I know it's wrong. I know none of this makes any sense. But something about this man… something draws me in. Something makes me want to trust him, even though I shouldn't.
"I didn't know you could dance, Sebastian," I whisper after a minute in between breaths, my eyes fixated on his, drowning in the sea of his blue eyes.
He smiles, one of those sad, fleeting smiles of his. "You don't know a lot of things about me, angel."
And then he pulls me up so that I'm standing right next to him. Our mouths are inches away, hovering there. The music has stopped. The rain has stopped. Everything has stopped but this moment. It's just us in the darkness of the room, and I can barely see anything but I have enough senses to tell that all I need is right here in front of me, right here for my taking.
"Kiss me," I whisper despite my protesting instincts, and when he does, everything is fire. His lips are hot and passionate, urgent even, like kissing me is the air he needs to survive. I kiss him back, harder and harder, and he matches me, and I don't even know what I'm doing but I can't bring myself to stop, either. My arms go around his body and his slip down my back, moving lower and lower, faster and faster. Kissing Sebastian feels wrong in every possibly way, and yet, so, so right. I press myself closer to him, moaning as he trails his kiss down my neck and toward my breast. He teases me at first, moving his mouth around the arch of my breast, and I feel the tingling race through my body as he, finally, kisses me there. My head goes back, and his mouth moves lower and lower, ever so slowly, down my stomach. I feel the pressure building up inside of me, feel my stomach gets hotter and hotter the closer he gets to me. I need him, I need him so bad, and I moan at the thought of him going there, at the desire that pulses throughout my body. But when he reaches the space between my inner thighs, Sebastian stops. His lips don't move. I moan again, wanting him to finish it, closing my eyes and falling back and back. "Do it," I whisper desperately. "Touch me there."
But he doesn't. He pulls back and stands up, blue eyes hard and passionate. "I can't," he growls. His breath is hot and thick, and I can see he wants to touch me there--touch me everywhere--but is holding himself back.
"Yes," I gasp, the need racing through me. "Yes, you can."
"No." He looks so conflicted as he shakes his head. "No. I don't deserve you, angel. I can't make you mine, because I don't deserve you. I've done bad things, really bad things, and I love you too much to let you fall for me."
My heart aches at his words. After everything, Sebastian is… scared of me? Scared of loving me? Scared of being with me? My hands shake. No. No. I need him. I need to have him. And in that moment, as much as I wish it weren't, I know it's the absolute truth.
"But I want you," I say, pressing myself up against him.
He looks up at me, shaking his head. "You're beautiful, angel," he says at last. His voice has this sad little edge to it, as if he's reminiscing about an old friend. "Did you know that?"
"You've told me, Sebastian," I breathe. I can still hear myself panting, but all of that seems to fade away now, because every part of me is focusing on Sebastian and how fucking much I want him. "You've always told me."
"I just wanted you to know," he says quietly. "I don't want you to forget that. Not ever." His voice is so quiet and meaningful that I can't turn away from him, no matter how hard I try.
"I won't," I promise, looking into those scorching blue eyes of his. "I won't ever."
"Good," he says in his same, rough voice. He looks like he wants to leave now, to be anywhere but near me. He pauses for a minute, not moving, our bodies intertwined for what feels like eternity. Finally, he sighs. "You know how I told you I locked you up here to save you… from the men?"
"Yes," I say slowly. I'm still reeling from what just happened. My hands shake at the realization that I almost let the man who locked me up in here go inside of me, and I wanted it.
I fight back a tear, self-hatred rushing in. What is wrong with me? How am I so desperate that I'd want the man causing all of my pain this badly? Oh shit oh shit. I can't want him. I can't feel anything but hatred toward him.
I bite my lip. Hard.
Sebastian's gaze is as intense as ever, trained on mine. "Well, it's true, those men do want to hurt you." He drops his voice to a hush, but it sounds so sincere that it catches me off guard. "But I also locked you up here so you could be protected from me," he whispers. "So we could be separated, and I could save you. From myself."
I stop. Stop moving. Stop wanting him. This is not what I expected I hear. "Why do I need to be saved from you?" I whisper. My hand starts shaking. "Who are you, Sebastian?"
He pushes me away, ever so gently. "I'm no one. I'm the man you can never want." Sebastian turns away at that and heads to the door, shaking his head back and forth and back and forth. "You don't want me, angel," he repeats quietly. "Trust me on that."
Then he reaches the door, swings it open, and steps through, slamming it behind him. But I swear to god I hear him add something on his way out, so quietly I think I might be dreaming: "Nobody wants me."
Chapter Eight
The next few days go by slowly. Sebastian leaves to look for the men who are after us several times, which I'm beginning to realize may not be a lie after all, and I spend my time while he's away desperately searching for an escape. I haven't seen real sunlight in almost two weeks now, and I can feel myself slowly losing it. My head hurts all the time and my muscles feel so weak. It's like the darkness has sucked all of the life out of me.
One thing is for sure: I need out.
I. need. out.
Sometimes, when I get desperate, I just run at the door and try to hit it, pounding on it and screaming and screaming and pleading for someone to help me, someone to let me out, someone to free me, but no one comes. I desperately slam on the marble door with my fists, with my arm, with my foot, and still, there is no one to rescue me. I'm trapped here--trapped for good.
Other times, when I don't know what else to do, I just crumple up and cry. I let my legs go weak and close my eyes, and let the tears pour out of me. Crying is healthy, at least. Crying makes me feel like I'm still okay.
Other times, I can't even cry. I just sit there and stare at the empty wall and wait for the tears to fall, but they refuse to come. It's like they've been drained out of me. Like Sebastian took away not only my heart and my well-being, but my tears as well. He took everything from me, to protect me, to save me, or whatever it is he is doing to me, and I hate him for it. But I also want him so badly, so badly I can't even explain it.
Still, I haven't felt this desperate, this dark inside, since the days after my parents were killed. It feels like everything is crashing down again, like my whole life has been a downhill spiral and now that I've hit rock bottom, there's no climbing back up.
There is no escaping this safe house, I've realized, defeated. I'm trapped in here, possibly forever.
But on Wednesday night, marking two weeks since I first arrived here, that all changes. Or at least, it changes a little.
I'm sitting on my bed, thinking about what it would be like to dance in front of my parents again, to perform and let everything else melt away, when Sebastian comes over to me and says, "I want to show you something, my angel."
I sit up and turn around.