Chapter 11 #2
“How did you know where I was?” I ask, walking toward a stack of books next to the couch. Before I can read the titles, I hear Aba? sighing almost imperceptibly.
“Since your arrival, I have been acutely aware of your presence,” he says, not explaining much at all.
Now that the fire is fully lit, he approaches and lifts my face up toward his own. With his thumb, he caresses my jaw so lightly, I wonder if I’m imagining the touch.
“There you go being filthy again,” he says quietly, “There is no bath for you here, but you can clean over there.”
He points to a wash basin, and I follow his gesture with my eyes, not moving from the spot. Completely overwhelmed.
I try to wash up, but the uniform is making it difficult.
It’s still damp and clings to my skin like a leech.
Aba? appears silently beside me, holding out a robe.
As soon as I take it, he leaves again, lighting a strange contraption hanging from the ceiling.
It looks like a golden cathedral, and once lit, fragrant smoke drips from within.
Aba? watches the wisps of smoke curl around each other until he drapes himself comfortably on the couch in front of the fire.
I undress, wash my arms quickly, and slip on the robe. The fabric feels like silk between my fingers, and it’s just as deeply colourful as the walls in this room. It feels glorious, caressing my skin with each movement.
“I saw the bodies,” I blurt out.
He shrugs slightly without turning toward me. I slide next to him onto the couch, squeezing myself into the little space that isn’t blocked by his body.
“What is the significance of another corpse in a sea of corpses?” he says without looking at me.
I can see the fire lapping at his face, eyes glinting black even in the light. The flames must rejoice when he’s near, because this close, he is always glowing.
“Did you kill them?”
“You must be more specific,” he replies.
The words stun me, leaving me completely speechless. For a moment, I wonder what life decisions I made to be in a room with a murderer. I know I should be appalled, but, not entirely unsurprising, I’m not.
“Why did you kill them?” I ask eventually.
“I have to kill to ease the hatred in my heart,” he says quietly.
“What does that even mean?” I can’t help but scoff.
“What do you wish me to say? That I had righteous reasons? Is there ever a reason to justify murder?” He fists his hand around the fur, turning his knuckles a sickly shade.
“I don’t know, okay?” I reply quickly. I feel bad for making him uncomfortable, but I really do want answers.
“Let me ask you a more pertinent question. Why are you not frightened? How can you sit so calmly beside a murderer?”
“I told you already, I’m never scared,” I reiterate.
“Everyone is scared,” he says.
“Not me, okay? I feel nothing. I’ve never felt anything. That’s it. There’s no big secret, just nothing.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. I don’t know why I’m feeling so…so—I brush it off.
“I sensed the emptiness but did not comprehend it,” he says quietly.
I can feel the tension leaving his body again. I resist the urge to burrow into his side.
“What do you mean you sensed the emptiness?”
“I can feel things. I feel all; it never ceases,” he almost whispers the latter. That sounds like an actual nightmare—feeling everything all the time.
“How do you cope with it?”
“I am confined to this castle, with a pathetic excuse of a man, and….” His words trail off.
“Being amongst people is like drowning in a sea of screams without being permitted to take a single breath. I not only hear the fear and disgust I instil in everyone, I feel it more intensely than my own.” The popping of the fire underlines each word.
“But not with me?”
“No. From you…there is only silence,” he confesses.
“Is that why you hate me?” I ask.
He laughs at this, a response that confuses me more than anything that happened today.
“What’s so funny?”
“I do not hate you, Astaire,” he says gently. The way he says my name makes my stomach lurch.
“Why do you yell at me like that? Throw things at me?” I ask, remembering yesterday night.
“Perhaps I am a blot upon this earth, from which all men flee, and whom all men disown.” He sighs.
I can’t believe this guy. I’m trying to get answers, and here he is being cryptically poetic. When I roll my eyes at Aba?, he drags a hand over his face.
“It is….” He struggles for a moment.“…not easily explained,” he says earnestly this time.
With his foot, Aba? drags a small stool closer, placing his long legs languidly on top of it. He shakes out the fur and throws it over his now extended legs. A piece of it lands on my arm. I stare at the animal hairs glittering in the firelight.
“Is it because I’m broken, then?” I say.
“Why would I think that?”
“Because there’s something wrong with me,” I explain.
“And you do not believe there is anything wrong with me, then?” he asks.
“There’s nothing even remotely normal about you,” I reply.
“You are truly something else, Astaire.” The way he says this makes me shiver.
“Wait, does that mean you knew when I was there?”
“I cannot ascertain your precise meaning, but the answer will most likely be yes,” he says, painting the word into the air.
“Behind the door, when I was…” I stop myself, feeling strangely awkward.
“Yes, I knew.” He finally looks at me, one corner of his mouth lifted in half a smirk.
“Did you do it on purpose?”
“Nothing escapes you, does it?,” he says softly, slowly leaning toward me.
I watch Aba? intently, looking at the smooth waves of his hair, the wild look in his eyes, the taunting lines around his lips.
His hand lifts slowly, like he’s approaching a wild animal.
I close my eyes when he makes contact with my skin.
His chilled finger brushes across my jaw, and my heart stops for an instant before resuming its work just a touch quicker than before.
My cap falls from my head, and my hair tumbles onto my shoulders, still damp from the bath.
Aba? glides his fingers over my scalp, twirling them around loose strands.
I open my eyes again and see him staring at me in wonder. Eyes a deep black. Wide open. Hungry.
Aba? moves off the couch too quickly for my eyes to follow, then pulls me down to the rug in front of the fireplace.
I gasp at the feeling of being moved so swiftly.
He kisses my jaw, then my throat, opening my robe to lavish my chest as well.
He lingers on my nipples, giving them little nips, before lowering himself further.
I wrap my legs around him and squeeze as hard as I can.
“I want to taste you,” he moans as he reaches for my cock.
It already feels impossibly hard, but Aba?’ sudden touch makes it jerk like a heliotropic flower.
He grips it with his hand, licking the shaft from the bottom to the tip.
A gasp escapes me, and I have to try not to come right then and there.
Slowly, he slides his tongue around my head before taking all of me in his mouth.
I hiss and whimper as he sucks my cock. The pressure of his fingers and the movements of his lips are too perfectly timed for me to last for long.
He really must be some kind of psychic because this isn’t natural.
It feels too good, too much. I try to hold on, but there’s a rushing wave threatening to drown me, and I open my arms to welcome it.
Drowning feels like the only possibility now.
When I come in Aba?’ mouth, I hear him moan around my cock.
The cum is still leaking from the head when his face contorts and he jumps up and storms away.
Dazed, I struggle to make my body obey. Stand up, I command myself through the rush of blood in my ears. It feels like an eternity until I’m able to move again and check where he went. I ignore my cum dripping all over my thighs as I make my way to the furthest corner of the room.
With his back turned, Aba? is leaning against the wall.
His shoulders rise and fall in ragged exhales, like he’s trying to shake off the deepest despair.
I approach him slowly, gently putting my hand on his shoulder.
He jerks away and growls in frustration.
I step back, completely naked and confused in the chilly night air.
“What’s going on?” I ask quietly, as if I were talking to a startled animal.
“I…” he mumbles into the wall, “I cannot speak of it.”
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask.
He turns around suddenly, facing me, his eyes are glowing red. “Never.” He lifts his hands for a second then lets them fall again. Almost defeated.
He walks back to the fireplace. I watch him pace back and forth before sitting on the couch again. I don’t want him to leave, but I’m so frustrated, I don’t know what to do. Don’t know what to say. At least he didn’t storm away again or kick me out of his room.
I want to know what’s going on, but pulling the information out by force isn’t going to work.
I try to recall every fact I’ve gathered, hoping to make sense of everything I’ve seen since coming here.
I take a moment to come to reasonable and logical conclusions.
Eventually, I return to the couch, pulling the blanket over myself.
I look at Aba?, he’s sitting an arm’s width away. His mouth is hard while his hands are gripping the couch like it’s the only thing holding him here. He’s looking into the fire, but even from this angle, I can see his eyes glowing crimson.
“What are you?” I finally ask. A question I should’ve asked days ago.
He turns very slowly toward me, a look of infinite sadness in his eyes. He parts his lips, taking a deep inhale, then he quirks up one side of his mouth. I swallow when the firelight gleams on what he’s showing me.
Fangs.