Gregory continued. He fiddled with the cuff of his dress shirt but his face had been wiped clean of expression. His black eyes stared into mine but they were unseeing.
“A Pureblood can turn a human. They become an Elite Daemon. An Elite Daemon can change a human. They become a low Daemon.”
“And then?” I cleared my throat.
“And then... Nothing.”
I blinked slowly as I took in the information. “And what are you?” a tendril of fear had wrapped around my heart as I waited for his answer.
Gregory was silent. He rapped his knuckles against the oak of the dining table. Drawing out my suspense. I could hear the pounding thud of my heartbeat, low and warm inside of my ear drums and I wondered if he could hear the same. If he had sensitive hearing like vampires did in books and films.
“I am the lowest of the low.” Gregory spat. He focused on a spot on the table as he kept speaking. “I cannot make another. I cannot bring who I want over to this life. Everyone I have loved had withered and died whilst I remain. Full of Hell Magic but not enough.” He paused, and unfurled his clenched fist. His next words were whispered. “Not enough.”
“Is that why you took me? To try and make me like you?” I forced all emotion out of my voice.
“No.” Gregory got up so suddenly that I couldn’t hold back my flinch of fear. He ignored it as he stormed to my side and gripped the top of my arm. His magic swept over me like a shot of tequila and Viagra straight to my loins. He dragged me to my feet and I opened my mouth to argue as I eyed my almost full plate. Instead, I decided against it.
His lips were hard against mine. His hand tangled into my greasy and unwashed hair. His magic roared inside my mind like a blood rush. I grabbed the lapels of his shirt and held him to me. Our kiss became insatiable.
I pushed the disgust for him down and I put my plan into action.
I tried to ignore the eyes that I felt watching us. My pale haired hallucination was back. His grey eyes burnt into the side of my face so I turned around, and used Gregory's head to block the ghost from my vision.
Chapter 8.
Life got better when I gave in to my kidnapper.
I got at least two meals a day and scheduled bathroom breaks. I got clothes to wear, no longer forced to wear a dressing gown with nothing underneath.
I sat on the edge of my bed but my mind was elsewhere. Watching the pink sakura petals flutter to the ground during the cherry blossom festival in the imperial gardens. I had spent a placement in Tokyo at a little-known women's university as part of my language course.
Someone cleared their throat, and my rigid spine relaxed when I recognised the mischievous voice of the white haired warrior that stood in the corner of my room.
“Kōkyo Higashi Gyoen?” Biscuit remarked coolly. The Imperial Palace East Garden. He had recited the name of the spot that I imagined myself in. His accent was perfect. The equivalent of BBC English but in Japanese dialect.
“Have you ever been?” I asked. I did not question if he could read my mind or not because I was certain that he was a figment of my imagination. A desperate attempt for my thoughts to try and escape the flourishing Stockholm syndrome inside of my psyche.
“Once or twice.” Biscuit used a finger to test the side table or dust. He investigated his hand and then brushed it against his tunic.
“It’s one of my favourite places.” I murmured without emotion. “It’s a shame that I’ll probably die before I get to see it again.”
Biscuit tutted. “None of that, Nora.” He waggled his finger as he chided me. “You chose option A.”
“I chose to live.”
“And yet you've not tried once to see if your door is locked.” Biscuit clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
My lips pursed as hot shame pummelled the inside of my ribcage. “I’m not weak.” My voice cracked and I did not know if I was speaking to the ghost anymore.
“I wouldn’t be here if you were.” The man laughed to himself.
“What do you want?”
“I can give you your freedom.” Biscuit said with a flourish. “Say the word and I’ll 'blow the bloody doors off'.”
“Italian job.” I couldn’t help the smile that twitched at the edge of my lips. My platinum haired jester made it easy to forget about the aches and pains. The stabbing that I felt what I sat down. The fingerprint sized bruises that peppered my skin.
Gregory's magic made me want him but it did not linger once he had finished. It numbed the pain of the act, like an intense burst of arousal but it did nothing to sooth the results.
It was easier to remember that I was not a willing participant when I had the wounds to prove it.
“What do you want in return?” I asked.
Biscuit licked his bottom lip and his eyes flicked to the door. “We don’t have to talk about that.”
“I'm not trading one cage for another.” I buried my head in my hands. “If you're fucking real.” The end of the sentence was more for my own benefit than his.
“I’ll leave you to wallow.” Biscuit smirked, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his shoulder. “Call me if you need me.”
Gregory did not drink, so the fact that there was a glass of red wine in front of me as I ate was disconcerting. I did not like the taste of wine. The steak was almost blue. Raw. Lightly cooked on the outside but bleeding.
I empathised with the steak. II had no idea what that said about me.
I had only been lightly grilled so far. But that only meant that things could get worse.
My kidnapper watched me. His dark eyes intensely followed my hand as I lifted the fork to my mouth and chewed. It was as if he was counting my mouthfuls and the times that I chewed before swallowing my food.
“I am proud of you.” He said but his attention did not deviate from my hand as I fed myself.
“And I am grateful to be allowed cutlery.” I replied just as formally and without a hint of sarcasm.
“Lenora,” he chuckled and shook his head to himself. I wanted to crook my brow and ask why he acted as if I had said something endearing and cute, but I did not.
His glazed expression told me that I would not get an answer.
“You’re happy with me. Aren't you, Lenora?” His smile was warm. So different from his typically detached expression.
My eyes widened minutely. I did not want to lie, so I said nothing.
“You love me. I can tell.” Gregory's tone was smug.
Bile rose up my throat and I said nothing. The stench of his magic burnt my nostrils like a fire in a candy factory.
I held back a whimper as I felt wetness saturate my underwear. I hung my head in shame. My food laid out on the table, but I could not bear to take another bite.
I wanted to go home.
A teardrop raced down my chin and dropped onto the leg of my jeans, leaving a dark spot. I held back a sniff. I did not want Gregory to see. He was self absorbed enough that he would continue his musings about my ‘love’ whilst I sobbed at the other end of the table.
Sometimes I wondered what kind of man would kidnap someone. Gregory was cold but fucking crazy when you scratched at the cracks in his mask.
“What do you want with me?” I whispered. “You’re an incubus. You can make anyone want you. Why me?”
“Because you got into my taxi.” He replied simply. “And you have the bluest eyes I have ever seen.”
“Why?” I pleaded, but did not look up from the tear stains on my jeans.
“I need you to love me.” Gregory whispered and his eyes flared pale ice blue. “I'll never let you leave me.”
My skin itched. I felt like I couldn’t get comfortable inside of my own body. I calculated the last time I had my period. I couldn’t remember.
My days had begun to blur into one and I couldn’t count how many days it had been since I got in the back of an unmarked taxi with a monster.
“I can snap my fingers and make this all go away.” Biscuit said as he l
ounged in the corner.
I blinked back tears and snarled at him like an animal. My lips were curled over my teeth and I felt like I was a few more words away from finally snapping.
I wanted to hurt something. I wanted to scream. I wanted to go home.
“You’re not even real.” I hissed as I buried my head in my hands and used the heel of my palm to dig into my eye sockets. Tiny Starbursts illuminated behind my eyelids and I relished the darkness. It meant that I could escape into my own mind.
Even if it made me powerless.
My spectre's voice brought me back to earth.
“I can kill him for you. If you’d like?”
My hand rested on my stomach, as if my first instinct was to hold the tremulous waves inside of my gut. My head swam.
“You’re not even real.” I repeated, my lips were numb and it was difficult to form words.
In response to my declaration, Biscuit reached forward with an impish grin and pushed my hairbrush from the vanity and onto the floor.
He winked and disappeared in a flurry of black and orange fire.
Chapter 9.
Gregory had left a dress on the end of my bed whilst I was sleeping. I was typically a light sleeper, which made it difficult to house share with five other girls. It was such an inconvenience and shock to me when I arrived at University, that I had to purchase earplugs.
It was disconcerting that the incubus could creep into my room in the dead of night and I was none the wiser.
My body reacted to him against my mind's wishes. He could easily take me in my sleep and I wouldn’t have a clue until I woke up with his cock inside of me.
I pushed the thoughts into a little box and bolted it shut with the promise that I would scream my lungs out when I finally had my freedom.
Sleep was the one sanctuary that I still had whilst I was trapped in Gregory's version of happy families and he had taken it from me without a care.
The short see-through Lace dress that hung over the grey comforter was another violation. Albeit an emotional and mental one, but no less painful than the physical ones that my kidnapper had thrust inside of me with his perverted ideas of love.
I saw no choice other than to wear the dress.
The fingerprint bruises on my thighs had finally begun to heal and I could sit down without flinching.
I was certain that Gregory had torn something inside of my body. My lower belly throbbed and the only time I did not ache with teeth-gritting internal pain was when he was inside of me. Spilling his magic over my skin like pheromones.
I did not wear a bra under the dress, because that was not the purpose of the transparent item of clothing. He wanted to see me.
I had already been stripped bare of everything. I had no dignity left to grasp. He had explored and tasted every inch of my body.
My fingernails were cracked from my attempts to claw away from him, the first time he had taken me, on the concrete floor of the basement.
It still hurt to grasp anything, but it was the kind of pain that I needed. My fingers reminded me that even when I orgasmed against my will. Even if I was wet and begging, he would never control me. I was doing what I needed to survive.
It was easier when his magic was the reason that my body reacted. I did not want the man.
I had no fondness for the sex daemon with his callous and cruel smirk. His dead eyes.
I shivered, and my nipples were erect from the biting cold. In bare feet, I padded to the door and waited for Gregory to come and collect me.
Anxiety before the evenings festivities had started was almost as bad as experiencing what was going to happen.
I had no way to tell the time, so I had no idea how long I waited before Gregory came to get me for my evening meal. I did not smile as his gaze raked over every curve of my body.
In my past life, I had generally hid behind baggy t-shirts and jeans. My breasts were large, but in an inconvenient way. My body was slight, although my stomach was flabby. My boobs made my entire frame seem out of proportion. It was easy to hide my body and allow people to think that I was fat rather than take the perverted comments and second glances.
There was no way to hide in my transparent dress. I folded my arms over my chest but Gregory cleared his throat and I pulled my shoulders back and held my head up high.
Until I walked into the living room, and saw three men waiting for me.
My feet stumbled as my body froze. Each of the stranger’s eyes flared to bright crystal blue. They colour shimmered and writhed like a serpent below the surface of their irises. I swallowed the lump in my throat. My voice died.
My heart felt like a lump of gnarled and dead wood. I could not force myself to step into the room. I hovered on the threshold until Gregory placed his hand on the small of my back and coaxed me forward like a doll.
My knees buckled and I had no idea how I managed to remain upright.
“This is Lenora.” Gregory said proudly, his hand remained on my spine in a possessive gesture.
The red headed stranger with a scar on his face spoke first. “I’m surprised that she's still alive.” His tone was bored.
I eyed the red head and studied him from head to toe to keep from shaking in fear. His eyes were the colour of emeralds when they returned back to a more human-like colour.
Everything about him screamed wilderness and anger, the opposite of Gregory's composed impassiveness.
My eyes rested to my kidnapper’s but we both made no move to enter the room any further.
The red head laughed brusquely, it sounded like gravel, wrapped in honey, warped through a blender. Something unnerving and attractive at the same time.
“He keeps killing my girls so I no longer allow him to have them.” The stranger's smile was crooked but his eyes burnt with rage as they hovered on Gregory. He was not pleased about the deaths at my kidnapper's hands.
I said nothing. My mouth had gone dry and I did not think I would ever be able to produce saliva again.
Another stranger, this one with close cropped blonde hair and eyes the colour of honey leant forward and allowed his gaze to roam over my body. He did not say a word, he just nodded to the redhead as if confirming something. The blonde then relaxed back into the upholstery of the sofa.
“Samuel.” Gregory's shoulders were taut as he addressed the redhead and I could see every muscle and vein. Even though his voice held no emotion, I could see the anger that radiated from his body and I did not like it one bit. “I invited you to my home to make amends, not to insult me.”
Samuel did not take his eyes off of me. Back in my old life, I would have been flattered, but now I knew fear. I knew that monsters existed and I had felt the darkness. I had breathed it in and would do anything to survive it.
Samuel was different to my kidnapper but he was still a monster. I could feel it.
The air was stark and dry as if the men in the room had sucked every piece of warmth and life from it like a wrung out sponge.
I shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable.
The third man, looked almost exactly like Samuel but he did not have a facial scar. In fact, they could have been twins. The redheaded Doppleganger stared at the ceiling and sung under his breath, it was as if he was on a planet all his own.
“Where did you find her?” Samuel asked. “She isn’t one of ours.”
“Around.” Gregory shrugged and led me to the armchair. He gestured for me to sit with a grunt and my eyes flicked around the room with uncertainty.
Samuel cocked his head to the side. “I need to know if someone is trafficking in the Rose family's territory.” He said lightly, but his gentle words held a threat. Gregory’s face displayed no emotion but my heart missed a beat in panic.
Samuel's nostrils flared as if he could smell my fear. “Unless you took her?”
My kidnapper did not react. I saw a ray of light. Could I trust the stranger, even if he was a monster?
Would he allow me to go home?
Samuel slapped his knee and his gaze snapped back to mine. He sat up and approached me with a swagger. Cocky. Assured.
I shrunk back on myself. Samuel was the type of person that I would have avoided if I met him at a nightclub. My eyes flickered to his twin, who appeared to be rolling a fifty pence piece in between his fingers.
As if my discomfort was a palpable thing, Gregory placed his hand on my shoulder and moved my back, if protecting me.
“Samuel Rose,” Gregory nodded as if it had finally occurred to him to introduce me. “Vincent Rose. Bentley Nolan. This is Lenora.”
I shifted from one foot to the other and looked down to my toes as they sunk into the plush carpeting.
“Lenora,” Samuel scratched his chin and nodded as if he was confirming something to himself.
Vincent barked a laugh and Bentley nodded.
Gregory sighed and consciously pushed me behind him. “As you can see, Elite, I have been on my best behaviour.” His hand was on my spine and his fingers traced a pattern which I could feel through my dress.
Magic wrapped around my lips, begging them to stay closed. Somehow I found the strength to push through. My mental battle was missed by everyone I’m the room as a bead of sweat rolled off of my forehead.
“He took me.” My voice was a breath. Tears prickled behind my eyes. “I didn’t chose to come here.”
I felt his hand around my throat before I could take another breath. My eyes widened and spots of colour raced across my vision. A heavy wheeze filled the air. The sound of lungs struggling to breathe and failing.
It did not register at first that it was my body that made the sounds.
“Option B, Lenora.” Gregory snarled.
Samuel watched our exchange with mild amusement, his eyes flared pale blue. “You can let her go now.”
Bleu Page 5