Page 301 of Castings & Curses

“I brought you food. You need to eat. It’ll help you heal faster.”

I remember breakfast that morning—was it this morning? The way I could dance again after eating. I think she means that literally.

“How long have I been...” My voice sounds raspy, like I haven’t talked in a while.

“The attack was two days ago. You needed rest.”

She brings in a tray and places it on the nightstand. I turn my head to gaze in enchantment at its content. A platter of pancakes smothered in maple syrup and drowning in blueberries, a glass filled to the brim with orange juice, and another plate with rashers and scrambled eggs. A breakfast fit for a champion. Who does she think I am? Just because I’m curvy doesn’t mean I eat like an ogre... Though I must admit I’m ravenous...

“The kitchen went a bit over the top, I think,” the blonde beauty says. “Eat what you can.”

I catch her before she leaves. “What’s your name?” It is, after all, the most basic thing to know if I’m going to be spending time with her, right?

She barely turns her head towards me. “Bella,” she whispers before leaving the room without a single glance back.

Well, that she is... At least I can stop calling her Blondie or Goldilocks now, or the bitch with gorgeous eyes. Still, what a weird woman. One minute she’s detestable, and the next, she’s almost caring and sweet. And then she’s aggravating again. I hoist myself up on the pillows and test the pain. I wince, but I force through to get to the pancakes.The kitchen went a bit over the top. No shit, but they look so scrumptious. I grab one, sticky syrup gliding down my fingers, but there’s no using the cutlery at this point. My position prevents it.

My tastebuds jump with joy and swoon with delight. I’ve never eaten such an amazing treat in my entire life. I sit up slowly and grab my fork to try the eggs and rashers, and no lie, they’re just delicious and made the way I love them best. I engulf the whole plate and eat the berries by the handful before finishing the pancakes and throwing the freshly pressed orange juice down my throat.

As always, remorse consumes me after I clean through the tray’s content. I hate stuffing myself up like this. Then again, I haven’t eaten in two days, have I? As that realization dawns on me and appeases my stupid society-bridled brain, I also appreciate that my wounds don’t hurt me as much as they did when I sat up. Food that heals, huh? Take that, guilt and shame!

The cat nudges my elbow, so I caress him. His purring soothes my thoughts and invites me to lie down and rest some more. But as I lay on the fluffy pillows and continue to scratch Tomkitty’s ears, I can’t resist thinking back on the events of two days ago. My memories are all blurry and imprecise, and the flashes are no help. Though one thing haunts the recesses of my mind, and as I focus on it, clarity hits me like lightning. The beast’s blue eyes. Somehow, I seem to recall the beast changed into...

Could it be? No way. I reject the mere idea insinuating itself into my thoughts. I’ve seen some shit lately, but that would take the cake. I roll over and try to catch some Zs, but the would-be truth pounds on my noggin and just won’t quit. I exhale through clenched teeth and sit up on the edge of the bed. Huh, that was easy. My ribs don’t hurt so much anymore; neither does my tummy. I stand slowly to test my leg. It holds my weight with little pain. I smirk. Wish I could remain here forever and indulge in all that fantastic food with no reservation.

The cat takes me standing as his cue to scratch the door.

“You’ve got better things to do than stay here with poor ole me, is that it?”

He’s out the second I rack it open.

“Yeah right, leave me here alone with nothing to do, you heartless feline, you!” I shout at his bouncing butt skittering away from me with the nonchalance of a sunbathing cheetah. “Oh, fuck it.”

I follow him once more, completely aware that I’m barefoot and wearing only a t-shirt and my undies. Who cares? What are the chances that the blonde bi—Bella—catches me like that? And what if she does? She’s probably the one who stripped me of my clothes in the first place anyway, so...

A flutter of desire runs down my spine, and my skin explodes with goosebumps. What was that? I’ve only imagined her stripping me down... and the touch of her fingers... the faint scratch of her perfectly manicured nails... Another wave comes up this time, and I shiver. Okay, I’ll admit it, she’s fucking hot. And I wouldn’t mind if our forced proximity led to some sensual encounter. Anything really... I’d love to forget that the last action I’ve seen in months was an orgy of demons. And a beast ripping off some jerks’ guts...

I stop in my tracks and heave, catching my breath to avoid throwing up on the raggedy carpet. Can I go back to the fantasy instead of remembering reality, please? That was nasty. Still, those dudes were on a mission to hunt me down and kill me with a side of rape, apparently. What kind of psycho cult leader have I pissed off to deserve that? And what’s Gwideon Malevant up to in his expensive hell cave?

With my mind busy recalling the obscene rictus of the devilish billionaire as he ordered his troops to capture me, my legs lead me straight back to the library I discovered that other fateful day. The door is ajar. I risk an eye through the opening and glimpse the desolation I’ve already witnessed before. Dust and sheets cover everything. One thing stands out this time, though. A gorgeous, tall, slender, blonde woman lounging on a frayed chaise longue. Her mesmerizing eyes are closed, her hand lies on her forehead. She’s either asleep or plunged deep into her own thoughts.

I hesitate, painfully aware of my near-nudity, and cautious about risking a fight like last time. Then again, I have nothing to do, and all the good books are here, so to the wind my caution goes! I knock and slither through the gap, careful to remain as discreet as possible. Bella doesn’t bat an eye. She must be asleep. As silent as a panther, I approach the nearest bookshelf and rummage through the leather-bound tomes. Some remarkable classics of literature share the limelight with philosophical treaties and scientific essays. I pick up a simple blue volume of what turns out to be a collection of fairytales and make my way back towards the door.

Bella’s voice startles me. “Andrew Lang’s Blue Fairy Book. Great choice.”

I freeze in shock and slowly turn around. She’s not even moved, let alone opened her eyes. How does she know?

“Yeah, I love fairy tales,” is all I can think of saying.

Yeah, I love fairy tales. How lame am I?

She sits up and stands in one fluid movement before covering the distance to the door with no more words, her hands in the pockets of brown linen shorts that show off her perfectly shaped legs, her visage shrouded in mystery behind the curtain of wavy, golden hair. She is exasperating, being so gorgeous yet so utterly anti-social. Or is she just utterly anti-me? I want to pull at her locks and make her stop and look at me. How juvenile... She awakens way too many weird feelings in me. Instead, I watch her pass me by once more.

Not without a fight.

“Thanks!” I blurt before she leaves.

What an outstanding confrontation... Ugh.

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