Page 12 of Dark Flame
Getting to my feet, I wipe the dirt off my pyjama pants and walk to the bars. Thankfully, I still have my flip-flops on from my two seconds of logic before escaping my house. Taking the extra moment to slip them on meant running faster than in bare feet.
I wrap my hands around the frosty bars and shove my face through the metal as far as they’ll allow me to, studying my surroundings while breathing in the stale air. Stale, but it’s free too, so I’ll take it. Better than the cell’s air.
It’s the same damn air, but rationalizing the different compartments of this horrible place will help me feel less scared about the four walls around me. Sticking my face between the bars makes me feel less trapped. Like the walls aren’tsoclose.
For once, I’d rather have the shadows around.
Wherever I am, it’s a jail of some sort. A matching cell is across from me, with two more on either side, both sides of the short hallway. At the end is a door, and I long for it to open, for that vampire to return only so we can get this over with.
I should be more frightened, I realize, but somewhere over the years of my parents’ protection, I suppose I rationalized this possibility. That at some point, a vampire wouldn’t be satisfied with merely a sip.
I twist around, taking in the cell with better detail, my back against the metal. It’s cold, and my oversized shirt rides up, the chill pressing to my skin, but I accept it. Accept the fact I’m not so numb yet that I’ve tuned every sensation out. I slide towards the ground, bringing my knees up to my chest, and rest my head on them, unsure what’s to come.
I’d gotten good over the past couple months at pretending. Pretending I’m not dying inside while compartmentalizing my problems. Losing Mom and Dad, and the guilt and grief that have been plaguing me since that fateful day, has been momentarily shoved into a pretty little box and put into a much safer place than I currently am. Once I’m free—and I vow Iwillget free, even if I’m unsure how at this point—then I’ll return to hating myself within the confines of my home with my friendly shadows hanging around. I wonder when they’re coming back for me. Or has the Goddess given me a reprieve from that torture method considering my new problem?
Even so, once I get out of here, home is no longer safe without the barrier. If I escape, then I’ll be attacked by the next surge of bloodsuckers waiting. With a considerable look around, I realize this cage is the safest place for me. At least until I get my magick back. Or find a coven willing to take me in.
Not the one I was born into—they kicked me and my parents out when I was a kid, so I doubt they’d take me back—but another one.
Ironic that being imprisoned by a murderous vampire is the safer option. At least he keeps out the multiple others and, from what I’ve seen, he’ll protect me from them.
Like a dog protecting his bone from other canines.At this point, I’ll take whatever protection I can get.
From down the hallway, a loud crack sounds out. By the time I manage to get to my feet again, using the cell bars as leverage, a quick sliding of metal against metal clangs and a blur of black ends up towering over me, backing me into the cell bars.
Him.
He sneers, looking down at me over his nose. Strands block parts of his eyes, but not enough I’m unable to see the black pupils of the soulless creature.
“Sinclair.” It’s that voice again; the same one I’ve been hearing for months. It reaffirms the revelation I’m still pretending doesn’t exist.
“Asshole, bloodsucking kidnapper,” I greet in return, failing to come up with possible explanations why his voice has been in my head.
“Enjoying your new accommodations?”
“Fuck off.” My heart quickens with his nearness, which he probably hears. He’s too close, but not in an alarming manner like the size of the cell. There’s a strange feeling coursing through me as I tip my head and meet his dead gaze straight on. “Better yet, burn.”
He smirks, looking entirely boyish, and a mere fraction of what his actual age likely is. I hate, hate,hateto admit this, but my captor is actually hot. I noticed it when finding him on my bed, and I notice it now.
In a psychopathic way, of course.
“Good thing you don’t have your magick. For me, anyway.” His lips purse, momentarily hiding the sharp tips of his fangs. “How did that come to pass?”
I remain silent, my jaw locking and holding in the answer.
Clearly, he doesn’t care all that much about my secrets because he continues to say, “You are somewhat of a disappointment. My history with the Sinclairs dates back a long time, and none have been quite as…lacking…as you are.”
“Then send me home. Wait for the next one of us to come around.”
He chuckles, the deep reverberation bouncing throughout the room, a threat on its own. “That won’t be happening.”
There’s only one way to end this. I might be magickless, but I’m not powerless, and my power is the very reason vampires seek me out: my blood.
I tip my head back into the bars and squeeze my eyes shut as I do the very act I’ve always dreaded ever happening and bare my neck to the bloodsucking demon who doesn’t deserve my permission.
“If you’re going to do it, stop playing around and just fucking do it.”
“Do what?”
