Chapter Twenty
I stood rooted in place, mouth agape, for a few moments. Bellamy patiently waited with one hand on the handle of the door, watching my reaction. I thought about what he said and wondered if he might be lying. Would he really teach me to fight? Lian was right, I was a hazard enough with just my powers, let alone with the ability to physically attack.
If he was not lying, then it would be idiotic of me not to take him up on his offer. I needed this advantage if I were ever going to make it home. Mia and Xavier would be furious with me for learning, but after everything that had transpired over the last week and a half, I imagined they would find it in themselves to see that the guaranteed benefits far outweighed the possible consequences.
I nodded my head and walked towards the doors where Bellamy waited. I did not miss the small upwards tilt of his lips before he pulled the door open. It was still dark outside, the stars and moon lighting up the green lawn and the sea beyond. The dewy grass smelled heavenly, allowing me to take my first full breath since I had felt Sterling’s hot blood spray across my face.
Bellamy continued forward, but I stopped, tilting my face towards the sky and closing my eyes. I missed the gardens of the palace, the way the scent of the flowers comforted and grounded me.
My still damp locks made the already chilly air feel even colder. I missed the way Mia braided my hair as well. How she would surprise me by weaving flowers through the brown strands, growing them from thin air. My hands moved to my hair, pulling it all into a single plait, eyes still closed and face still up. If I was not taking in such deep breaths, I might not have noticed the change to the air, the smell of smoky cinnamon wafting towards me.
My eyes flew open, locking on Bellamy’s with little effort, as if my body was hyper aware of his. He slowly unlatched his cloak, the muscles in his arms and shoulders straining against his tunic as he slid it off in the most outlandishly obvious show of his assets.
I was ashamed to admit heat pooled low in my stomach. When he smirked as if he knew the way he affected me, that shame turned into anger.
Bellamy brought the cloak around my shoulders, his fingers never making contact with my skin.
“Your eyes are so beautiful—gray, like a storm cloud,” he whispered, his breath visible in the frigid night. Our bodies were nearly touching. He stared at my irises as if he were seeing them for the first time.
I never enjoyed talk of my eyes, because the memory of someone else’s love for them hurt a piece of my soul that I had long since buried. Even worse, any compliment geared towards my eyes was a reminder of another prince.
“Sterling used to say it was his favorite feature of mine. He enjoyed pointing out the color, as if he could think of nothing better to note,” I said, my voice flat.
I did not know how to feel about the late prince. Bellamy killing my fiancé and then taking me provided little time to process. Was I mad at Bellamy? Thankful? Scared?
The demon prince’s jaw clenched, his neck tightening at the comparison I made. Abruptly, he turned and walked further into the grassy area. I followed, not knowing what else to do. The tension in the air was thick when he whirled around to face me. We squared off, my mind on high alert for what he might do. But Bellamy did what I had quickly come to associate with him, he relaxed his body and smiled slyly. He was many things, but dejected was not one of them. I admired the way he could shine, how he quickly bounced back from unease or displeasure.
What a contrast, to be a Fire who easily angers but also a calm and composed Water. The witless side of me wondered how soon I would see the bravery of an Earth and the wildness of an Air within him. My rational side reminded me that all I would ever get from Bellamy were lies and betrayal, regardless of his mood.
I knew I never would move past the way he had deceived and manipulated me. How long was I carefully watched and assessed by him? Just as he was doing now. Eyeing me like I was an anomaly that he needed to study so he could find advantage within it. To him I was little more than a means to an end.
Each thought swirling through my head sparked my anger like a flint, lighting a fire in me. I desperately wanted to knock him to the ground.
“That is it Princess, let your wrath loose,” he said teasingly. I balled my fists in an attempt to resist his taunts. He took a step forward, but I refused to back down from him. His smirk irritated me, but I was here to learn, not be made a fool of. “Come at me Asher,” he encouraged.
I shook my head, prepared to protest. In the blink of an eye, he closed the space between us, and without much thought, I jabbed my fist out. I struck him in the nose, his head jerking back from the force.
Screeching at the pain shooting through my hand, I tried to hold back the tears, but still they relentlessly ran down my cheeks.
“I think you broke my hand you dimwit,” I hissed, panting heavily through the pain. Blood was pouring from his nose, but still he laughed.
“You broke your own hand. I cannot believe you just hit me.” The surprise in his voice brought a scowl to my face. As if he thought I would just sit back and let him attack me. Perhaps I should have hit him harder.
“Maybe if you would have—oh I do not know—told me we were starting rather than running at me like the lunatic you are, then I would not have hit you!” At this point I was shouting, but I could not help it as the pain and shock mixed with the rage within me. Would it be ludicrous to hit him again?
“I think you like that I am a lunatic, Asher,” he said, somehow flirting with me through the pain he had to be feeling. His teeth were crimson from the blood that seeped into his mouth, matching the red of my split knuckles. “And anyways, I was hoping to gauge how much you know and what instincts you possess. Apparently, I underestimated you.”
Another casual shrug of his shoulders sent my rage climbing once more. I would get nothing done training with him.
“I want to train with someone else,” I blurted through clenched teeth. If the searing pain was not enough of a sign that this pairing ultimately would not work out, then the way we seemed to gravitate towards each other was. We stood there, nearly chest to chest again somehow, both staring at the other as if we could will submission.
Bellamy turned to spit out some of the blood in his mouth onto the dewy grass, then glared down at me.
“And who exactly would you like to learn from?” The bite of his tone did not go unnoticed, but I could not afford to spare his feelings when this information was fundamental to not only my escape, but my survival.
“What about the pumpkin demon? He seemed fit enough,” I offered, waving my good hand towards the double doors behind us. When I did, I took in the sheer size of the estate that Bellamy called his home. It was a mirror of the interior, a towering dark presence. In the distance I could see the village and the market beyond, which were all so white they practically glowed in the fading moonlight. An interesting contrast.
A short stone path ended at the double doors that led inside, which were shaped like an arch. Four large cylinder towers reached towards the sky, four stories in height, connected by flat structures in between and on either end that sat three stories high. Most of the windows were shaped similar to the double doors in the front, arches of glass rather than wood. However, the fourth story of the far tower facing the sea had what appeared to be floor-to-ceiling windows, replacing the walls. This tower was thinner than the rest, the odd one out of an otherwise symmetrical design.
It was undeniably beautiful, Bellamy’s home. That much I could admit.
“You want Henry,” Bellamy growled, cutting off my mentation.
It sounded like more of an accusation than a question, but my hand hurt, and I simply wanted to see a Healer and move forward with training, so I swallowed the bitter anger. I turned back towards the demon prince, first taking in a breath of fresh air before the scent of him distracted me. Then I smiled up at him and spoke with as much sugar in my tone as I could conjure.
“I would love to train with him, as well as see a Healer.” When he did not so much as flinch, I gritted out, “Please?” Why was it so difficult to be kind to this male? Was it normal to simultaneously want to smack and kiss someone?
I tried to think of some way to salvage the conversation that I had already so foolishly bludgeoned. Glancing up at his bloody nose, which would heal incorrectly if not realigned by a Healer immediately, I saw that the red liquid had already stopped flowing. “You should probably see a Healer too,” I pointed out.
He chuckled then. A full, deep rasp that nearly brought a smile to my face. When he closed the small space between us, I felt the rumble of his chest and the warmth of his skin through his clothes. I pictured what it would be like to spend our days like this, laughing and training and touching. Then I quickly shut down the thought, because what would never be was not worth fantasizing over.
“Careful Asher, it almost sounds like you care.”
“I do not, demon. Now please, can we get to a Healer before the pain makes me throw up all over your extravagant cloak?” Each word took more energy than I seemed to have. His dimpled smile did not falter as he strode back towards his home, brushing my shoulder as he passed. Pivoting, I followed him.
Just beyond the castle, I saw the sun rising over the sea, slowly casting the sky a vibrant orange. Around the large manor were bright red flowers that seemed to glow in the light of daybreak. “What are those flowers called?” I asked. Bellamy looked to his left and smiled, eyes quickly darting my way then back to the delicate flora.
“Those are called Salvia Splendens. Of all the places I have been, I have yet to see them anywhere but here.” Bellamy leaned down and plucked a long red stem, turning around to fully face me.
Slowly, he reached up and tucked it behind my ear, running his finger gently across the flat top. His caress felt almost…loving. But I knew that with Bellamy, nothing was real. Everything was calculated and planned. So I shook off his fingers, tossed the flower to the ground, and walked up the black stone steps to the red double doors.
Before I could reach the handle, Bellamy was there. He grabbed my chin, lifting my face towards his.
“Beautiful creature, how I wish you knew the power you held.” His whisper sent a wave of excitement through me, but his fingers reminded me of another night full of sorrow, forced affection, and so much pain—of Sterling.
I flinched at the memory, and just like that I was inwardly begging to be released. I held back the tone in my mental voice that made it an order, but barely.
Decades, that was how long it had taken me to control the way my power demanded obedience. Sometimes when I was flustered or overwhelmed, I slipped. This might have been one of those times, because Bellamy let go of my chin, ushering me back into the castle of night and blood with a wave of his hand. I could see the hurt and anger on his face, but he said nothing until we walked through the doors.
“I am afraid I need to take a page from your book, Asher,” Bellamy said. My eyebrows knitted together at his declaration. Gazing over my shoulder I saw he was wearing the same devilish smirk he seemed to prefer. “So here are the conditions I have if you want to train with my subjects, roam free in my lands—”
“What I want is to go home,” I corrected. My left hand laid limp in my right, healing in a way that made it appear crooked and deformed. Even through the pain, I still felt that spark of anger in me that the male seemed to enjoy lighting.
“Regardless, you will not attack any of my fae or demons with your powers. You will take no minds under your will to harm them in any way unless your life is threatened,” Bellamy ordered. Though he did not have the power I did, he knew I had no choice but to listen. To follow his commands.
Guilt washed over me, because I did this to others. I took away their free will and forced their hand. It was cruel. It was evil.
It was me.
So I nodded, knowing I deserved the leash.
“I need to hear you say it, Asher,” Bellamy ordered. The wording and the tone brought my mind back to the changing room in Pino’s booth, and I felt the blush on my cheeks before I could get myself in check.
“Fine, I will follow your rules and will not use my power to harm any of your fae or demons unless my life is threatened,” I huffed, adding, “I will play the good captive as long as I am allowed to train daily.”
Taking no time to consider my condition, Bellamy agreed. “Absolutely. Despite what you think, you are not a prisoner here.”
I thought back to what Lian said about being saved from a prison disguised as a sanctuary. No matter how this male attempted to spin my situation, I was a hostage—a pawn. One thing I would not be, was weak.