Page 100 of Conquered
My heart is pounding, my breath short as I read my next lines.
“‘Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.’”
“‘O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.’”
Adarkness enters his gaze then, and I'm hit again with the hurt that I've caused him.
“‘Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake,’”
Iread, barely above a whisper, looking back up at him as he starts to lean in, still clutching my hand in his tight grip.
“Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged,”
He whispers back as his lips close on mine, and he kisses me.
It's a kiss that defies the ages, full of pain and longing and despair. But also hope, and something so sweet and pure, I dare not even think of its name.
I vaguely hear the class whistling and catcalling as Mrs Jones clears her throat loudly.
Ash breaks away, his breathing as heavy as my own, both our chests rising and falling in tandem. He stares into my eyes once more, his grey ones swirling like a storm.
Then, abruptly he lets go of my hand, stands up, his chair scraping across the floor, and strides out of the room.
“Mr Vanderbilt!” I hear Mrs Jones shout, but I'm just frozen with my hand to my burning lips.
It's the end of the day, and I head to the library, putting off going back to the dorm, especially after what happened with Ash this morning. I want to make amends, to make things right between us. But I don’t know how, so I take the coward’s route and postpone the inevitable.
I study for hours, the library empty and the windows dark when I look up bleary-eyed, realising how late it is. I pack mythings in my bag and go to head out when I see someone step from the shadows.
For a moment, my heart leaps thinking it's one of the guys, and then I realise it's not. It's that creep, Robert. Goosebumps erupt all over me like a warning, my instincts telling me to get out of there pronto.
“Hi, uh, Robert,” I say, starting to slowly back away, instinctively looking for an escape. The hair on my nape and arms lifts, my stomach rock hard. I have a terrible feeling about this. How long has he been waiting there? How did I not notice?
“Hi, Lilly,” he says back mildly, taking a step towards me, and it’s then that I realise with a sinking feeling he's blocking my easiest way out. “I'm glad I found you,” he adds, still advancing with a predatory grin. I could go round the table, and hopefully, make it before he cuts me off.
“Oh yeah?” I ask as I keep backing away, my heart beginning to pound. I'm clutching my bag in front of me like a shield. I may have to use it as a club if he keeps coming towards me.
“Yeah,” he answers, still smiling. It's a smile full of entitlement and malicious intent. “I thought seeing as how you, Loki, and Jax don’t appear to be an item anymore, we could go for that walk.”
My heart is beating wildly in my chest, like a bird trapped in a room and frantically trying to find a way out, even if it ends up bleeding, beating against a window. My brain is screaming at me to run and run fast.
“Ah, it's kinda late, so maybe another time,” I respond, proud of how firm my voice is even though I’m a quivering mess inside. I finally reach the end of the table and slowly ease around it, all the while keeping eye contact. My shoulders are tight, my body tense as I prepare to flee.
“I was thinking now,” he tells me, dropping the smile, his face reddening and his eyes hard as flint. My heart jumps painfully.“And didn't your whore mother ever teach you it's rude to walk away when someone is talking to you?” he asks viciously as he lunges for me.
I spin on my heel and run in the direction of the door, but I'm too fucking slow. I feel him grab the back of my hair, pulling me back towards him, a scream of pain leaving my lips as he rips some strands clean out of my scalp. I stumble and fall, landing on my spine hard, and knocking my head on the edge of a chair, making stars dance in my vision and my stomach roil.
When my eyesight clears, he's already kneeling on top of me, ripping open my shirtwaister dress, the buttons flying and scattering across the floor as he exposes my navy lacy bra. My hands come up, clawing and trying to bat his own away from me, but he must have hit me hard because I feel so weak and he easily grabs both of my wrists, pinning them above my head in a bruising grip, grinding my bones together.
I make to scream, desperately hoping that someone will hear, when a clammy hand comes over my mouth hard, so that only a muffled sound can be heard.
No. No, no, no. Please, God, no.
“Shut the fuck up, you bitch, and spread your fucking legs!” he snarls, his lips curling and spittle flying.
