Page 34 of Cardinal House
I blink, my eyes feeling droopy, everything feeling light and heavy all at once, “More?” I whisper.
He dips his face closer, our noses brushing, a strand of straight, black hair dropping from behind his hair, tickling across my cheek.
“I wanted you to be mine.”
Chapter 15
Luna
Inner arms sore, my muscles ache all over, my head pounds, and my eyes burn, but I pry them open despite the sting because of the man in the chair beside me.
Wolf Blackwell.
His chin-length hair is down, the coal coloured strands tucked behind his pierced ears. His head is turned against the side of the high back chair, his temple resting against the worn leather. Something about the chair makes me uncomfortable, the longer I look at it the worse my head pounds, but the man sleeping in it is far too pretty in slumber not to stare at.
Rose-pink lips sit in a plump pout making him look boyish, his jaw is sharp, harsh angles with a square chin, high cheekbones and neat, black stubble styled tidily on his cheeks. His eyes are closed, heavy fans of dark lashes that curl high atop his cheekbones, but beneath those lids sit these warm, fiery, honey, whiskey coloured orbs that I want to stare into for days.
It’s dark in here, but being so close to him, the shadows only seem to carve and enhance his features like he’s a piece of art in a museum and I’m just a lucky girl with a nice view.
I think this is the first time I’ve really woken up since the other day, when we talked.
‘I wanted you to be mine.’
Something flutters around in my belly at the thought, a warmth spreading through my chest, but then I glance at the chair again and it’s like ice water dousing me.
As much as I don’t want to, I’m going to have to wake Wolf up. My bladder is full, my legs have pins and needles, and my lower back is twinging from lying in bed so long. I feel thirsty and uncomfortable, and I want to bathe. I want to wear fresh clothes, and for my skin to smell like soap, and the pressure in my pelvis is starting to hurt.
Wolf’s hand is in one of mine, grip tight even in sleep, my fingers are bandaged, taped up and swaddled in gauze. The last couple of days have been a blur. The only parts I can remember when I woke are Wolf’s warmth, his fresh breath fanning my face, his gentle touch with rough hands. A divine contrast, this man is built like a beast, huge muscles, broad shoulders, tall and towering, but he’s soft and caring, with me.
“Wolf,” I say quietly, my voice cracking, but he doesn’t stir.
Shadows fill the space around us, this strange cube like room. There's no light in here, no window for the outside world, but one wall is glass, and I move my eyes there now, peering through the darkness.
My skin ripples with goosebumps, my eyes wide, trying to see in the pitch dark. The space feels open with the glass partition, a large empty room on the other side.
It feels as though demons and ghouls are creeping through the obsidian, my eyes seeing blurs of shadows moving amongst the darkness, but I know there’s nobody there.
My breathing is ragged, my lungs burning as I strain my eyes, trying to see. I turn my attention back to Wolf, his soft snores like a hibernating bear, a smooth, deep rumble that shakes me to my core with comfort. There’s a creak then, and my heart lurches into my throat, perspiration sticking my hair to the back of my neck, my forehead beading with sweat.
I fly up in the bed, every muscle protesting, but my eyes flick to that horrible leather armchair again and I feel unsafe, something inside of me repels against the idea that that chair is just a chair. It feels impossibly more, even though I don’t understand why.
Suddenly, all I can see is bone and blood and deep red seeping across dark wooden floors. I see flickering candlelight at the edges of my vision and my own reflection staring back at me, a split lip. Then there are blue eyes, familiar, but they are not my own, and my insides curl and rebel and force acid up the back of my throat.
I’m flopping to the floor, on the other side of Wolf, my knees and hands crashing into the hard ground. Keeping my eyes down, I crawl forwards, not looking up as a cool breeze feathers over my heated skin. I don’t want to see, so I don’t look. If I don’t look, I can’t see, and I can’t be scared.
The top of my head bumps into the corner junction of a wall, pain splitting down the side of my face as black spots blur across my vision. I reach out for the wall, curling myself up into its corner and try to stop seeing those eyes.
There’s a glint in my vision, large, strong hands that are like Wolf’s but not. Gold, something big and gaudy and too flashy on a fist made of violence. I’m shoving down the shorts I wear, knowing I mustn’t have them on, supposed to be bare. I kick them away quickly, trying not to be caught. There’s a terrible rasping sound growing, louder and louder, closer and closer, and the images in my head are coming to life around me like an old film cast over the walls.
The floor is falling away around me, my head curled into my drawn up knees, hands fisting tightly over my ears. Wet warmth meets my bare feet, soaking my bare skin, and my tummy twists with shame, but I can’t look up and I can’t open my eyes, and even still, the images come. The blue eyes, like mine, but not my own, the large hands and the flash of gold. The blood, the bone, the sound.
It echoes in my ears, thumping, groaning, silence. Eerie and calm, soundless, blocking out the noises of the world above. Pain explodes in my head and my eardrums feel like they’re about to burst. And then the water comes over me in a wave, silent and wet, then there’s a voice, a scent. Harsh hands on bruised flesh, heat flush with my back. A rocking motion that has pain shooting through my coccyx, up the spasming bones in my spine. Sticky, thick, slick slipping down my legs, a scent, strong and smoky and sweet, it makes me gag, my stomach revolting when it’s all I can smell.
A whimper passes my lips, and I know I shouldn’t make noise; I am to be silent, sweet girl. Silence. I clamp my hands over my ears harder, my painful knuckles going numb as I smash them against my ears.
Big hands come to my shoulders and I flinch so hard I crack my forehead against my knees and stars shoot through my head again like the milky way is spitting them out and unable to stop.
“Luna.”