32. Belle
Belle
If I must die, being suffocated by a mass of burly muscle isn’t the worst way to go.
And yet, I’m not ready to take my last breath, so I pull myself out from under Rourke’s heavy arm, regaining the full function of my limbs.
He grumbles, and I expect him to wake and pull me against him.
In fact, I’m disappointed when he only rolls to his back, remaining in his deep slumber.
I tuck my knees to my bare chest and marvel at his gem-dusted body, bare except the gold, rose-embossed ring on his right hand, and the white sheet covering his most impressive member.
Maybe I will die of suffocation, because the sight of him, docile and properly fucked, presses the breath from my lungs.
Dried blood smears down his neck, the small source already scabbing.
His scales sparkle in the weak rays, peeking through the open window across from us in his bed.
Morning is here, and I can’t waste any more time curled up with Rourke.
I lean over and kiss his rough cheek. “I’ll be back,” I whisper.
He grumbles and reaches for me, but I avoid his grasp, kissing him again on the center of his forehead. He stills, falling back asleep. I hope he remembers this when he really wakes. He’ll think I’m gone forever now that I’m without my Darling.
I touch my neck, still in disbelief that it worked.
I’m not truly free yet, though. There’s still so much to figure out.
But, I don’t think I can leave Rourke. Last night, he carried me from his tub to his bed, pleading, “Please, stay with me,” with each desperate thrust, fucking me as a form of begging.
He willingly let me free with his blood, remnants of it still dried on my skin, yet he seemed desperate to convince me not to leave him, using his cock—and his mouth, and his hands—and I must admit, it worked.
But it’s more than his body, or his capacity to please, it’s him, the fragile soul hidden beneath a form armed with fangs and scales.
I’m in too deep, potentially pregnant with his child—or Peter’s.
Peter.
What the hell am I going to do about him?
I told Rourke I love him, I do, a confusing, suffocating amount.
With Rourke, it’s simple. He loves me, craves me.
With Peter, it’s different; the intensity is the same, but I’m unsure how pleased Peter would be to find I’m free of my Darling.
Perhaps he only loves me as his plaything. I can’t be sure.
I’m leaving Hollowbrook. But Neverhaven? Well, it might just be my new home. The home I have to save, apparently. And maybe I can bring the two new pieces of my heart along with me.
No.
That’s crazy.
They would never agree to that. How can I be so selfish?
Sure, they both shared me, the act I’ll never get out of my brain—will never want to—but there’s no way they’ll agree to holding equal occupancies in my heart.
It’s but a small part of the thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle that is my escape.
Perhaps it’s better to leave them both. That way I won’t have to choose.
The unfolding details bounce around my head like kernels of corn as I grab a cotton throw blanket from the armchair near Rourke’s bed and slip it over my shoulders, attempting to cover more than my naked body.
I tiptoe to the tub at the center of the room, fishing through the now cold red water for my Darling.
The metallic black collar hinges open, the circle broken.
My eyes burn at the sight of my recent chains.
I want to chuck it out the window, never look at the ugly piece of cruelty again, but I still need it.
I can’t just run out of the manor in my birthday suit without a plan for where to go next, and I can’t risk anyone seeing my exposed neck—even Peter.
I stuff the Darling under my armpit and take one last look at my cuddly monster before exiting his room and racing down the halls, slinking in the shadows to not draw attention.
I’m lucky I’m indecent. No one will suspect the real reason I’m sneaking around the manor.
Weasel is curled on my bed, and his head pops up as I shut the doors behind me.
I lean against the wooden door as I catch my breath, letting the blanket fall to the floor.
I grab a robe thrown over the back of a chair and wrap it around myself.
“I need your help,” I tell my antlered friend as I sit on the bed and reveal my Darling.
“I need to figure out a way to keep this on my neck without getting myself stuck again.” I’m afraid to even shut it as a test, let alone put it back on.
Weasel blinks at me, unmoving. “Right. You’re an animal.” What the fuck is he supposed to do? Pull out his collection of arts and crafts? He doesn’t even have thumbs. Still, it feels better to talk to him than to the walls. I search my room, looking for something to help with my impossible task.
Weasel scampers away, probably to shit in corners or scavenge for bugs, or whatever it is he does most of the day when he’s nowhere to be found.
My stomach tightens as I hold up the Darling and inspect the metal.
Someone could barge into my room any second and find me red-handed.
I don’t know what I’m looking for, machinery, wires?
Back on Earth, I always had a knack for tinkering, but I suppose that was due to my powers, the powers that…
I now have! I pop to my feet, excitement taking over.
I’m not a weak, vulnerable woman anymore.
I have coveted blood running through my veins.
I just have to figure out how to use it.
Weasel jumps back on the bed, dropping a small beaded purse from his mouth. I grab it and look inside. It’s an array of jewelry, far less expensive-looking than what I usually wear. “What am I supposed to do with this?” I ask as I pull out a chained necklace.
Weasel nudges my Darling closer.
I glance between the two items, an idea forming.
“Yeah, this could work.” I never knew how to wield my powers before.
When I wanted to do something, I thought about it, and it happened.
It would be fucking dandy if I could remove the chain and clasp from this necklace and attach it to the Darling.
I stare at the jewelry in my hand. “Ouch!” I drop it on the bed.
“Oh, my God! It worked. I’m melting the metal. I’m like fucking superwoman!”
I crouch to the floor, eying the necklace resting on my comforter.
I could probably start a fire, but I’m too excited to care.
I trace an imaginary line on the chain and clasp, melting off the rest of the piece.
My powers were never this noticeable back on Earth.
At least I don’t think they were. I never knew that I had powers and wasn’t just lucky.
But this feels different. I feel stronger.
Perhaps it’s because I’m in Neverhaven—the place I was born. The place where my magic originated.
I pick up the Darling, aligning the small section of chain to one side of the opening and running my finger where I want them to connect.
My fingers vibrate. God, did I miss this feeling.
The metals melt into each other. “I’m a human soldering gun!
” I yell to Weasel, inspecting my work from the edge of the bed.
I do the same on the other side, shaking the ring to let it cool before rushing to the mirror to put it over my neck and attach the clasps.
It’s not perfect, a little wonky since it’s no longer an exact ring, but I hide the chain part behind my hair. I’ll have to be mindful of not letting the Darling slide forward to reveal my handiwork.
Finally, I’m capable, a feeling I’ve craved after all this time of being useless. But looking at my reflection, back in the same binds I just freed myself from, sours my stomach.
My bedroom doors fling open. Rosalia clears her throat, Julia and Clarette at her heels, her voice formal, “Ms. Barnes, Lord Pan requests your presence in the dining room.”
Perfect timing.
Well, shit. Maybe I do have a bit of luck after all.