Chapter 23 #3
Sebastian rolled over, his breath whispering against her face. "I—"
"But then, I think that's exactly how you want me to feel. After all, I'm very used to not being wanted."
Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath.
Cleo rolled away, curling her hands into the blankets, her abdomen locking tight with a great deal of suppressed emotion.
None of this was going the way she'd thought it would.
Her eyes pricked with tears. "Do you know, I was so happy this morning?
I thought my life was going to change. I don't expect you to love me.
I don't expect you to even wish to be around me all the time, but please, do not be cruel.
I know I am just an insignificant blind girl who you never wished to marry, but I didn't particularly want to marry you either.
You were nice to me the other day, but I just wanted to escape.
The worst thing you could ever do to me would be to lock me away here and not give a damn.
So I won't hope for love, I won't, but if you could just care, just a little, that would be enough for me. "
Pressing her blindfolded face into the pillow, she breathed in the hot air of her own breath in an attempt to suppress the boiling emotion within her.
What a fool she'd been, thinking this but a game, and now she was trapped by her own cleverness, for her mattress truly was a sopping mess, and her husband didn't want her in his bed.
Something brushed against her hair. She usually braided it, but she'd left it out, hoping he might think it pretty. Cleo stilled, her breath catching, as she lay there in agony, letting him stroke her soft curls.
The whole feeling of the encounter changed. Her tears dried up, her heart becoming a hollow thump in her ears, but he said nothing. Or perhaps what he meant to say was lost in this somewhat gentle touch, which seemed to only emphasize the distance between them.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I've lived so long in cruelty that I forget the damage careless words can wreak.
" He breathed out a helpless, saddened laugh.
"Or perhaps I never expected such a barb to so easily wound you.
Perhaps I'm too used to dealing with those who do not own a heart, and then here you are, wearing yours on your sleeve.
" His fingertips rippled down the lawn nightgown that covered her spine.
Then they disappeared, yet she felt as if regret flavored the air between them.
"I cannot touch you, Cleo, for a thousand reasons. Least of all is your father and my mother. The irony of this situation is that in trying to protect you from them, I have brought you into the realm of a far more dangerous predator."
Trying to protect you... Her heart began to race. She was so confused. One moment she didn't seem to know him at all, and the next he became her Sebastian again. "Who?"
"Myself." Another faint touch brushed her hair, as if he couldn't seem to help himself. "I'm dangerous, Cleo."
"I don't believe that."
"Yes, but you've only seen one side to me."
The nightmare flashed into her mind, London's Doom roiling in the distance. Cleo stopped the words she'd been about to say. She couldn't pretend that Sebastian wasn't dangerous, but it was difficult to reconcile such destruction with this man, who stroked her hair as if it were spun gold.
"I don't like to be touched," he said, and this time his voice was a hollow echo, as if he lived some memory that stained him.
"It... almost hurts. It makes me feel physically ill, and I become nothing more than rage.
The only reason I'm telling you this is so that you don't touch me during the night.
I wouldn't know you, Cleo, and I do not care to hurt you.
I see her face in my mind, and I lose myself.
I don't know where I am or what I'm doing.
I cannot stop thinking of others. Of what they've done to me. "
"Who? Your mother?"
"No." He laughed bitterly. "A woman I knew, not so long ago. Her name doesn't matter, though she's the only one whose face I recall."
Had he loved this woman? Instantly, her mind shied away from such a thought. This wasn't love that he spoke of. In his voice, only hatred lingered. She didn't understand any of it, or perhaps she didn't want to understand.
Cleo's mind raced. "Your mother makes you... entertain them, doesn't she?"
"I fuck them for her," he said in a hard voice.
"At first, they liked hurting me. It's easy to do when she gives them the ring for the night, and I used to just submit to it, after I ran out of the strength to fight them.
You would think a man could stop himself from.
.. from reacting, but there are ways..."
"Then what happened?" she asked in a tortured whisper. "Why do you remember one face among many?"
He shifted on the sheets. "Cleo—"
"I have seen a great many things," she warned. "Horrible things you couldn't even imagine. I can bear this."
"Perhaps I could imagine," he said roughly. Then he added in a broken voice, "What if I were one of those horrible things?"
"I wouldn't believe it," Cleo said, sliding her hand across the sheets before remembering what he'd said about being touched. She curled her fingers into a helpless fist that trembled.
"Then you do not know me at all. The reason I remember that bitch's face is because she was the first one I turned upon. I made her hurt until she begged at my feet. I used everything they'd ever done to me against her until she was sobbing. And I didn't care. I wanted to destroy her."
It was ugly. Cleo dug her nails into her palms, feeling a little uncertain. "You are a victim of your own circumstances. This wasn't your fault—"
"You still don't understand, do you? She liked it.
There she was, lying at my feet, begging me for more, and I wanted to hurt her so badly, that I did it to her again.
It was the first time I've ever held any power.
I liked it, Cleo. I liked hurting her, and I have done it again and again, to all of them. "
There was nothing to say to that. She couldn't even breathe. Inside, she was choking.
"You are in bed with a monster," he whispered.
"There is no hope for me. I cannot bear for you to touch me.
I shouldn't have lain down with you." He shoved the covers back.
"It was a stupid hope, but if you touched me, and I forgot where I was.
.. All I can think about is what would happen to you.
What if I hurt you? Could you ever smile at me again after such a betrayal?
Could you ever again think of me as the man who met you in your gardens?
Or would you only see the truth?" Sebastian slipped out of the bed.
"Stay there. You're safe from me. I won't touch you. "
"Bastian," Cleo whispered, sitting up and clutching the covers to her chest.
And he waited. He stood there in the dark intimacy of the room, with his secrets spilling all around him, and waited for her to make him a promise that she couldn't utter.
"You cannot stay in here again," he said, after too long a silence. "I'm sorry, you didn't realize what you had married. You won't have to see me again. I'll sleep on the trundle."
And then he was gone, and for the second time since she had met him, she was speechless.