~Alaya
The feeling of being knocked out by sleep is all too prevalent as I wake. In my my aching head. In my drowsy, lagging eyelids. Did I get hit by a truck?
Memories from last night juggle between reality and dreamland. As I force my body into sitting position, the silky sheets slipping down to my hips, I attempt to decipher the unfamiliar language that is what happened last night. Whenever I attempt to brush away at the cloud that shrouds it, I’m only consumed in it once again.
My available memories lead me to a point of being latched in the glacial eyes of Shanae. She had drugged me. The orange juice that has left a bitter taste on the back of my tongue is evidence to that.
Now it’s an unfathomable time of the day, and I’ve missed who knows what.
Sliding my legs out of bed, I press my fingers against the side of my head to mitigate the pain. It does nothing. I hardly remember this feeling last time I was drugged in this house. This pain is unique. The sharp, incessant knocking on my temples is entwined with regret. I shouldn’t have been so stupid to consume anything of hers.
The dress I wore from last night is rumpled around my thighs. There is little time to consider my current state when I have no idea what is going on.
Outside my door, there is an absence of the man I saw last night. Good. I don’t need him.
I find Shanae in a way that seems all too coincidental. She happened to be standing around in the middle of the hallway, making my the fine hairs on the back of my neck rise up. She was waiting for me, I assume. Waiting like a predator to attack.
“Good morning,” she says brightly. She looks a lot more casual today in tight, thick pants in an awful shade of off white, and a velvety smooth jacket. She looks as if she’s about to go out riding or something, not here to terrorise me.
I don’t reply with as much vigor. “Let me out.”
She clearly drugged me last night, and after that, I’m ready to starve myself rather than fall for any of her tricks. From what I remember from last night, I’m here because of Sinful; that being the last memory I had before a layer of haze settles itself over my mind. It’s the kind of frustrating that has me wanting to tear out my hair. Or her hair, even.
“I’m still waiting for Sinful to make his appearance,” she replies, that wicked smile meant to do nothing but taunt me. “And until then, you are allowed to do whatever you please inside this estate.”
“Like kill you?”
Something simmers in those glacial eyes, however, she doesn’t reply. Instead, she turns on her heels and walks back down the corridor. I consider following her. No, she has more power here than I do.
I need to communicate with Asher. Who knows what him and Sinful are plotting right now. In fact, they might not even care much for my disappearance. One less thing for Asher to worry about, I suppose.
Turning around, I nearly run straight into a chest.
Sinful, this time with resplendent hazel eyes. That might be what has me most stunned. The colours remind me of emerald green grass creeping over rich soil. Yet another reminder of his abilities to crush people’s souls. Yet here he is, standing in front of me in a gesture that I have no choice but to consider heroic.
“Isn’t she so tedious,” Sinful mutters flatly, referring to Shanae who has disappeared down the hallway.
“What are you doing here?” I question.
Perhaps I’m just surprised. That, or I’m worried about Shanae using me to lure Sinful here. Well it worked, I suppose, as he stands here, looking vulnerable to anything she throws at him. I know not to assume that about him, though.
“I’m here to take you home,” he replies. “Am I not welcome?”
“Shanae is using me to get to get you here… you need to get out of here, before you trigger some kind of trap,” I insist, glancing my shoulder as if he had already. Something doesn’t feel right about his presence. He seems too casual and unfazed by all the words I am saying.
“Perhaps she should do a more research into my abilities,” he mutters. “I’ve already disabled each spell she has put on this place with minimal effort.”
My mouth almost falls open in surprise, however, I manage to pull myself together. Asher’s entire plan has been to get back in here, which will benefit all the immortals who agreed to assist him in exchange for the take down of Sinful. At the sound of him unravelling everything as if it means nothing to him has a new set of weight settling on my shoulders.
Their plan better be good.
“So that’s it?” I ask in disbelief. “It’s that easy for you?”
He shrugs. Seeing him look almost bored by this situation is the most terrifying part. A part of me is scared to go back with him, now that I’m beginning to understand the extent of his power. Does Asher know this? Of course he does, it just made more sense to him to not tell me, clearly.
“There is one thing I would like to do before we leave,” he adds, his eyebrow quirking up slightly. There’s something impossible to decipher simmering in his eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if this isn’t about to end here.
Is he about to end this all here? If he kills Shanae, the unknowingly, he would complete our entire plan, and I would be able to go home…
“I heard there’s a man named Cyprian here,” he says. I have a feeling he knows exactly where this Cyprian in this place. So far, I haven’t seen the blue eyed man who kidnapped me in the first place. I would be happy to accompany him to wherever that man is, and watch Sinful take out the vendetta he has against him, for whatever reason.
“Something to discuss with him?” I ask, inclining my head knowingly.
A flicker of light passes through his eyes, as he holds out his hand. “You’ll see. And once you do, we are out of here.”
Slipping my hand into his, I only have to blink and we are suddenly in a different room. The change knocks the breath straight out of my lungs, but almost instantly, I recover. Right in front of me, is Cyprian, tied to a chair with tape covering his mouth. He’s untouched, although dripping with sweat from trying to escape.
Sinful did this. In a span of time I can’t fathom.
The strides Sinful takes toward Cyprian are slow and calculated; a predator approaching his prey. It’s a daunting sight, which Cyprian clearly agrees with, as his terrified gaze drags along with him.
“You’ve made a mistake, as you’re surely aware of,” Sinful muses, moving around to the back of Cyprian. The man shudders as Sinful places his hands on his shoulders, squeezing in a way that must be painful. Then Sinful holds his hand out, and a small knife with a think blade appears in his palm.
Something about the look of that seems more frightening than a normal blade.
“You took Alaya,” he says, his gaze raising to meet mine. Hopefully he can’t tell how badly I’m scared of him. “Out of my home. Don’t you understand trespassing?”
Of course he can’t reply.
“You see, I don’t take well to people coming into my home, claiming to know me and kidnapping my guests,” Sinful says, drawing the tip of his index finger over the blade. It’s so thin, at a certain light, it almost disappears.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say softly, knowing what he is planning.
He ignored me though, it going straight over his head. He doesn’t have to listen to me right now, when his wish is to end Cyprian’s life. For what exactly, I don’t want to see too far into.
“It seems Alaya here has a little more sympathy for you than I do,” Sinful says, strolling around to stand by Cyprian’s side, who now looks directly at me. “It’s too bad that sympathy for me, has a slightly different meaning.”
Sinful brings the blade up in front of Cyprian’s face. “As an immortal, I can tell you there are many way I could end your life, but in a mortal way seems a lot more fitting, don’t you agree, Alaya?”
When Sinful glances at me, I shake my head. Again, he ignores me.
“You see, I’m going to first take your eyes out, for even looking at Alaya,” Sinful says delicately, bringing the knife up to his cheek. He tries to flinch away, but the binds keep him caught tight.
“Then, I’ll cut off your tongue, for speaking to her,” he continues, pressing the blade against his cheekbone.
With the sharpness of the blade, blood is instantly spilled, trailing down past the tape and down his neck in a crimson mess.
“Then I’ll take your hands, for touching her.”
At this point, I have to look away, all my protests going unnoticed to Sinful. I’m finally witnessing the part of him that everyone warned me about. The side I hoped I would miss during this mission.
“And then, it will be your balls, for even thinking about her,” he continues. At this, I hear Cyprian fully begin to take Sinful seriously, his complaints muffled under the tape.
“Once at that is done, and you’ve fully realised to never cross me, as I’m sure we will see each other in the after life, then I’m going to slit your throat for saying my name,” he finally finishes.
I keep my hands pressed over my eyes. What have I done?