11. ELEVEN
ELEVEN
HYPNOTISED
" G ood morning, or should I say good afternoon," came a familiar voice from just behind me. I quickly turned to see Cillian standing at the French doors with a charming, self-assured smile, but it was the kind of smile that seemed forced, like he was trying too hard to make everything seem normal.
"How did you get here from the main door so quickly?
" I asked, surprised by his silent approach. His dark green shirt shimmered subtly under the light, adding to his otherworldly aura, and his scent, a mix of sandalwood and bergamot, was intoxicating, making me want to lean in even though I knew I shouldn’t.
I hated that my body reacted before my brain had the time to protest.
"What's life without a little magic?" he replied, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. They had that honey with deep green speckles that seemed to shift, almost like he could change his expression in a heartbeat. He raises an eyebrow, his lingering eyes admiring me .
"You look beautiful, Tilly, like a dew-kissed rose from the garden."
Even though I was worried about my fate, I couldn't help blush at his compliment. Stepping beside me, he looked more than handsome.
"Is that a smile I see trying to escape from those lovely lips?" he asked, his voice low and soothing.
His proximity sent a shiver through my body, and I could no longer contain my smile. Cillian's face lit up. The sunlight kissed his face and burnished his hair with mahogany highlights, making him look almost angelic.
But I knew better than to trust angels. Especially ones who looked as handsome as he did.
I tried to keep my smile as neutral as possible, but his charm was relentless, drawing me in despite my better judgement. Charm was just another kind of trap. My dad taught me that early.
"I was thinking it was time you and I talked," he added, glancing out at the view from the balcony. "After what happened yesterday, I understand that you're confused, frightened, and more than a little angry."
"What do you expect? Of course I'm confused, and you're damned right I'm angry." I left out the part about being afraid. I didn't want him to think I was some weak damsel in distress that needed to be coddled. "You have no idea what it's like to be torn away from your home and everyone you love."
Cillian’s smile wavered, a brief flicker of vulnerability crossing his face before he quickly regained his composure.
I averted my face, afraid of what he might find in my eyes. I had to learn to keep my face stony if I was going to be seen as anything but a frightened little girl.
"I'd like to apologise for our behaviour yesterday,” he said, his voice gentle. “Seraphina was right to chastise us. We're not from your world and, sometimes, our conduct reflects that difference. "
"Sometimes?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. His apology felt like a half-hearted attempt to make amends.
"I'm more worried about my Mum. She must be frantic by now, and no doubt the police have gotten involved."
It was meant to sound like I was in control, that I was stating a fact about what would be happening back home, but just thinking about my mom brought tears to my eyes.
"There are ways we can let your family know you're safe," he said, his voice low and soothing. "And I'd very much like the opportunity to demonstrate how much of a gentleman I can be."
It was my chance to ask for my phone. I knew they wouldn’t give it back, but I had to try. If there was a glimmer of hope, I had to take it. “Can I have my phone back?” I asked, my voice steady. “I just want to call my mom and let her know I’m okay.”
Cillian’s smile faltered, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something dark behind his eyes—anger, maybe, or fear that I would escape his control.
His hesitation confirmed what I already knew.
I was not going to get my phone back. “I’m sorry, Tilly,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “That’s not something I can do.”
His refusal was expected, but it still hit me hard. It was like every gesture he made was designed to keep me at a distance, even while pretending to be friendly.
Anger flared up inside of me. A gentleman? What would he know about being a gentleman? I regarded him with scepticism. Seeing this side to Cillian, I began to suspect his similarity to his brothers. From my experience, any man who refers to himself as a gentleman is rarely a gentleman.
Donte never claimed to be a gentleman. He just was, and I loved that about him.
"A gentleman doesn't force himself on a woman," I replied, keeping my voice as cold as I could. "Nor would he frighten her or threaten to harm her. "
"And I'll see to it that it never happens," he said with a sincere expression. "I intend to prove to you that I'm more than a gentleman."
"It's already happened. It happened the moment you and your brothers saw fit to snatch me from my life and take me prisoner," I retorted.
"Tilly, it's..." he started.
"Just don't, ok," I snapped, masking my surprise when he stopped and just looked at me with a certain sadness in his eyes. Or expertly crafted sadness. It was hard to tell with Cillian.
I so badly wanted to believe that he was sincere, but how could I after everything that had happened? Just because Cillian was nicer to me than his brothers were, that didn’t make him any sort of a hero.
In the light of the afternoon, Cillian was different.
No, it wasn't him who was different. It was me.
I could see what he really was now. He was playing this game to force me to choose one of them, just like his brothers.
Maybe he thought I was gullible. Maybe I was.
I always wanted to believe that there was good in everyone, even when it was hard to spot.
I had hoped that would also apply to Cillian, but right now I wasn't so sure it could.
He regarded me as though he was reading my thoughts. Well, if he was, now he knew I was onto him and he might just drop the act.
"I know you must have questions. I'll answer anything you ask," he said, his voice gentle yet commanding.
I had so many questions that I hardly knew where to begin.
How would I even know he was telling the truth?
Was this all an attempt to fool me into playing along with whatever he and his brothers had planned for me?
It felt like a trap, and I didn’t want to fall into it.
I felt my stomach twist into a knot as I finally spoke, and for a moment, I struggled to articulate my words. "Is my life in danger? "
Cillian didn’t answer immediately as he stepped forward, closing the space between us with a graceful ease that made me nervous.
Though I barely knew him, I felt a connection that somehow assured me he would be honest. I had no way of knowing if that was real or just me allowing my own na?ve hopes to cloud my judgement.
I had to believe in something though or I would go mad.
"Not from me or my brothers, Tilly," he said softly. "I promise your life isn't in danger here. I'd guarantee it, even at the cost of my own."
His assurance brought some relief, but I couldn’t fully trust it. The way he moved was smooth, like he was in complete control of every muscle in his body. It felt predatory, and I wasn’t sure if his calm demeanour was genuine or just a facade. I nodded curtly to mask my scepticism.
"Seraphina told me what happened to her is happening to me," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady.
"How many others have been trapped here like me?"
His gaze briefly flickered, and for a moment, his confident exterior wavered.
"There have been... others," he replied, but there was a hesitation in his voice that made my skin crawl. I tried to suppress a shudder and turned away. Whatever reassurance I was starting to feel had evaporated. I felt his scrutiny, and he didn't need to see my face to read my emotions.
"It's not what you think, Tilly."
But I wasn’t buying it.
"Of course it's what I think," I replied, turning sharply back toward him. "What else should I be thinking about? Taking a walk in the garden and admiring the view? How many other lives have your actions disrupted?"
"I know how wrong this sounds," he said, raising his hands as if to calm me, "but this has been our way since our star-bound lives began." His voice dipped, the mask slipping. There was a heaviness, as if the words itself carried centuries of weight.
I felt the colour drain from my face. Star-bound.
Bound to what? To the curse? To the stars themselves?
That hit me like a brick. He had to be lying.
Or worse—he wasn’t. “Star-bound?” I echoed, my voice tight.
“What does that even mean? Are you… something close to an immortal?” Even saying that out loud sounded surreal.
Cillian's jaw tensed, the slightest crack appearing in his composure. “Not immortal,” he said quietly. “Just held in this life far longer than your kind. The curse stretches our years… it doesn’t spare us from endings.”
"That’s not what I said. What I meant is... no system is perfect. Tilly, look at your own world. Just as different nations on Earth have their customs and traditions, so do we. Look at the wars and strife in your world before judging us so harshly."
I stared at him, stunned. He was comparing this to politics, to history, and to human failure. He spoke like someone who had watched empires rise and fall, not just read about them.
"Wasn't this why your parents wanted to raise you in a quiet village rather than in London, which is your birthplace?"
How would he know where I’d been born? It didn't matter. I wasn't about to let him throw me off this path of questioning.
"That's true; humans are their own worst enemy. Don’t think I don’t understand that.
But if you’re star-bound, you must have benefited from your longer lives and experiences, which I thought made you superior to humanity, as Torin says.
If that's the case, how can you possibly justify your actions? "