Awakening Rielle Page 2

Panic trickled down her spine. Panic and, she realized, excitement. She took her bag and secured it around her shoulders, feeling a short burst of relief at having her belongings again.

  "Don't worry," he said quietly. "It will not be as long in here as it will out there."

  The old man appeared again and escorted Rielle from the library to the grand staircase where they climbed up, then down a long twisting hallway, and finally to another impossibly big door. He left her in silence, never once making a sound other than the odd grunt or breath. Even his footsteps retreated in near silence. Alone, and not knowing what else to do, Rielle opened the door and took a cautious look inside.

  Logs of wood were set ablaze in a fireplace, emitting an occasional crackling as the firelight bathed cream-colored walls in cozy warmth. Diaphanous streams of white fabric cascaded down from an ornate iron medallion mounted to the ceiling, falling to the corners of a large bed.

  She could only just remember the last time she had seen an actual bed, let alone slept in one. She approached it as though it were a sleeping animal, her footsteps padding quietly against the wooden floor. Her fingers splayed out as they brushed against the feathery top, fluffy cotton against rough skin that had nearly forgotten what softness felt like.

  The rest of the room was sparsely furnished, nothing more than a wardrobe, an old mirror and an overstuffed chair, and sconces lit with candles spaced equidistant around the room to compliment the firelight.

  A sigh escaped through her lips. Her shoulders sagged in momentary relief. The climb up the stone steps of the mountain was worth it for just five minutes of contented leisure. She shrugged off the backpack and set it down on the edge of the bed before climbing on, nearly losing her balance in the deluxe plush.

  A long time before her home was a torn sleeping bag in a camp, she slept in a bedroom that had once belonged to a child. The house itself was abandoned and taken over by the homeless and refugees. The bed was small, the springs inside expired so that they bounced but sank, providing almost no support. Sharing the bed with seven other people meant she only had a reasonably comfortable night of sleep four days a month. That perfect variation was the only way she was able to keep track of time.

  The moment her body relaxed into the pillowy surface of the bed she realized how much her bones ached and muscles cramped. Could she become accustomed to this? To having a room with four walls to sleep in, a bed, and a fire to keep her warm? A space she didn't have to fight for to have or to keep. If the stories were true she would gladly sell her virginity, no matter what The Immortal looked like.

  Was the man from the library telling The Immortal about her right now? And exactly how was her purity to be determined? How would anyone be able to tell, apart from her word? Perhaps the test was to gauge the truthfulness in her word, to detect any degree of lie? They would find none.

  Rielle's body ached less as she sank deeper, and before her thoughts could stray too far from the questions her mind asked, she was sound asleep, the world outside forgotten.

  Rielle cradled her body into a tight ball to spread warmth to her cold limbs. The air that touched her exposed skin was chilled and prickly, reminding her of the nights when she had little more than a sparse blanket to cover her body with. There was nothing she hated more than the cold, for it reminded her that Death could be cruel and wholly uncaring. She could survive hunger far longer than she could cold, if she had a choice in the matter. The chill took a bite at her from the inside out and she shivered, closing in on her body as though she were the faintest of kindling in a dying fire in desperate need of stroking. It was moments like these she wished for another to join with if for no other reason than for the shared warmth two bodies could make.

  She eased a long and measured breath from the sliver of an opening between her lips, imagining the breadth of a man's shoulders blocking her from the frosted air. Her imagination could closely feign the sensation of another, a single ribbon of warmth smoothing slowly across her arm, leaving behind a trail of heat so realistic she thought she might be able to touch it. She reached out with her hand and felt the heat of skin - someone else's skin.

  Startled, Rielle bounded up and away from the source of warmth, crawling across the expanse of the bed until her back came against the soft padded surface of the tufted headboard. A woman of indeterminate age was sitting on the bed where Rielle once slept. Her eyes glowed like firelight refracting through the facets of an emerald.

  "You slipped into such a deep sleep you did not take notice of the fire dying. I was merely trying to warm you, my dear." The woman's voice was like a panacea, warming Rielle from the inside out until her muscles relaxed into compliance. "There you go," she whispered. "Are you feeling better now?"

  Rielle stole a glance at her backpack - untouched and in the exact spot she had placed it on the bed - before answering. "Thank you. I'm sorry, I-"

  "No need, dear. I imagine one must be quick-witted out there in Raving Thistle." She brushed her fingers against the air when she said 'out there', as though it were of no consequence to her whatsoever. "Fortunately no harm has come to you in the three days you've slept."

  Rielle's heart sank into her stomach, which she noticed in that moment was verging on riotous. "Three days?!" She was lucky if she ever slept a solid six hours. How could she have slipped into such a state? "How?" Had someone drugged her? The man from the library perhaps? As her mind sprinted through the possibilities she watched the woman's green eyes glaze, rolling up and into the sockets of her eyes until there was nothing but white gazing back at her. The woman blinked and the green returned, sharply focused and downcast in apparent sympathy.

  "Distrusting one, aren't you? I assure you, dear, that no one has taken undue advantage of you or in any way behaved inappropriately with your person. I have no doubt your departure into sleep was fueled entirely by exhaustion and the need for bodily repair."

  Rielle wanted to believe her. In fact it seemed easier to trust that she was telling the truth, but Rielle never volunteered trust for too long.

  "It is a beautiful thing to witness the mind as the wheels turn and turn," the woman spoke softly, her hands coming to the sides of her head and gesticulating the very movement she spoke of. Rielle swallowed back her fear, knowing better than to let it register on her face. Though from the way the woman talked she would be able to see it regardless.

  "Who are you?"

  The woman regarded her silently for a moment, then stood and took a few steps, the thick garment she wore draping like a tent several feet behind her footsteps. She passed the fireplace and a flame roared to life, called into existence with the mere flick of her hand. Light followed warmth, spreading through the room, uncovering it from the cloak of darkness and revealing the frame of a man who had been standing in the corner opposite the bed. Rielle's skin prickled despite the growing intensity of the heat, pronounced even further by the sight of his heated brown eyes. How long had he been standing there?

  "She is ready." The woman cast one final glance at Rielle, her green eyes alight like a glowing ember, before disappearing into a corner of the room untouched by the light.

  The sound of rushing blood coursing through her body muffled Rielle's ears, her heart threatening to pump vigorously from within the protected cage of her ribs. The man from the library stepped silently out from his shadowy corner until his knees brushed against the bed. Fiery eyes locked her in his gaze. She was helpless to look anywhere else, only able to feel the pumping of blood pressure as it echoed throughout her body, insides pushing outside.

  "Are you afraid?" Her ears were met with the deep, comforting familiarity of his voice.

  "No," she answered quickly, truthfully. It wasn't fear she was feeling, but anticipation. "Is this the part where you substantiate my virtue?"

  "No." He shook his head slowly, and then crossed the length of the bed until he was standing beside her, his hand outstretched to her. She took it and slid off the bed, coming to a soft landing on her feet. "This is t
he part where you decide whether or not you understand what it is you are offering. Your answer will determine what happens to you next."

  She didn't require anything more than the soothing warmth of fire at her skin from his touch to know she was making the right decision. Even so, she still knew better than to offer anything without knowing what she would get in return.

  "What will The Immortal give me in exchange for my virginity?"

  "What do you want in exchange for your virginity?" he countered, his eyes remaining locked on hers.

  "I want to live," she answered easily. "Not forever, but well. I have no desire to ever be cold or hungry again. I want stability. Resources. If The Immortal can give me that much he can do whatever he wants with my virginity. It means nothing to me in the grand scheme of things."

  He searched her eyes and said nothing, gave no response to her terms. Her hand was beginning to sweat in his, the slick moisture uncomfortable and oddly drying. She'd barely realized he was still holding her hand. His eyelids had grown heavy, the brown of his eyes lightening to amber before turning back to brown quicker than the instant of a blink. He seemed to be coming out of a mental daze.

  He released her hand and reached into his back pocket, producing a blindfold. "Put this on." He held it out to her expectantly.

  "Why?" She was quickly losing the ability to mask the anticipatory fear in her voice.

  "You think The Immortal is just going to take your virginity because you offer it? You're going to put it on, take your clothes off, and when your worth is determined you will have an offer."

  Rielle bit her tongue as she grabbed for the blindfold and held it in her hand. He looked at her pointedly, expectantly. "Who are you exactly?" she asked, feeling suddenly emboldened.

  The corners of the man's lips lifted into a deviant smile. "You can either undress now or later, but whatever you decide you will put on that blindfold."

  Rielle searched his eyes, looking for something, anything that he might reveal about himself. The deep brown hinted that he was more than just a good-looking face, that he wasn't just some inconsequential lackey for The Immortal.

  After a quick exhale of breath Rielle slipped the blindfold on over her eyes and secured the ribbons of it behind her head. Her world turned black, devoid of light save for the faintest strip of golden light around the edges that she assumed was from the fireplace. She didn't care too much for darkness, but knowing it would all be over soon was enough to keep her mind preoccupied from her fears.

  She felt the warmth of his skin again as he took her hand, and a moment later he was pulling her feet into a quick stride. The changes in ambient temperature were the only indication that they were moving from her room into the hallway, followed a moment later by the descending of not one but two sets of long stairways. She couldn’t tell how long they'd walked before coming to a stop in a room that smelled of petrichor. She couldn’t tell if they were still inside or if he'd led her outside. She could neither hear nor feel any rain, and the space was only slightly less warm than her room with the blazing fireplace.

  "Wait here," he commanded brusquely before retreating, his footsteps fading into silence. The steady sound of her breathing was the only thing she could hear, even as her ears became highly attuned to her quiet surroundings.

  Why was she being forced to wear the blindfold? Did The Immortal want to keep his identity secret for his own sake, or was it just part and parcel of the theatrics of The Immortal: ageless man who lives in the castle in the sky? She shouldn't care. She didn't care. It wouldn't be much longer until she could leave his home and Raving Thistle forever, never again forced to sleep under the stars unless it was her choice rather than her lot in life.

  Three minutes of silence passed before even the air itself stood still, the quiet coming to such a deafening loudness it suffocated her ears. The crescendo of her beating heart mixed with the building pressure of silence came to a head with a subtle pop! before the room went back to normal, her chest heaving rapidly with the intake of oxygen.

  Rielle sensed she was no longer alone. There was a distinct displacement of atmosphere directly in front of her, as though the air were passing around a warm body of mass to her front, emanating heat in her direction. "Hello?" she whispered. The sound didn't make it far before reaching the unknown figure. She had no doubt it was him: The Immortal. Where the hell had he come from?

  Only the black fabric of the blindfold she wore across her face hid his true identity. If it slipped off just an inch she would have a glimpse of him, could unravel some of the mystery of the man who allegedly survived off the purity of virgins. Her purity soon enough.

  A solitary finger picked up a corner of the hem of her shirt and slid beneath the fabric, moving across her torso from hip to hip, the faintest touch of his skin brushing against her own. When his finger disappeared the wall of bodily warmth moved closer. She could reach out and touch him easily; it wouldn't even require moving too far.

  "Undress." The Immortal's voice was a whisper, too low to detect any definite tone.

  Rielle doubted there was any other sound in the world other than her own frantic heart, pumping away as though in a race to expiration. A dozen questions about why she had to undress at all were proliferating in her mind, trying to make sense of the purpose it served. She could only conclude it was somehow ritualistic. The quicker she got on with it, the sooner she would be back in the world and on a path to a better life.

  She lifted her shirt up and shimmied out of it, exposed dermis cooling to the atmosphere without the cover of fabric. Her bare breasts were pert with fullness, the ends taut and receptive. He made no move whatsoever, not even to touch her. The rhythmic sound of deep breathing was all that kept her mind focused on the moment. She continued to disrobe, unbuttoning her tattered pants and letting them fall to the ground in a pool of fabric at her feet.

  His palm grazed against her naked hip and she gasped, uncertainty yielding her lungs. The rhythmic breathing remained, however, and her covered eyes widened in astonishment as she realized it was he who was breathing so deeply, and not her.

  He grabbed for her hands and dragged them up above her head before securing them into something thick and metallic. It happened too quickly for Rielle to protest. Her body was open and vulnerable, her perceptions tainted by virtue of the eye mask. She was wont to fight for autonomy, but acquiesced to submission instead.

  Something grazed against her jawline, followed by the unmistakable sound of inhaling. What was it with people in The Immortal's home smelling her? There was something animalistic about it, something her body responded to in a way she was unfamiliar with. A tightening kneaded between her thighs, acute and incendiary, as though she needed only the faintest suggestion to combust.

  "Purity emanates from your body like ripples on the surface of water." His hand cupped beneath her left breast, plump skin spilling in between his fingers. "With only the slightest persuasion..." She gasped as his fingers tightened around the mound of flesh, sending a direct line of current down to the apex of her thighs. "You feel it, don't you?"

  There wasn't a word she could think of to describe what she was feeling. His hand relaxed and swept generously down to her backside where it was quickly joined by a second hand, the wall of warmth so close to tangibility it made her skin prickle. If only she could see him...

  The air around her ear crackled with electricity, and she soon realized he was less than a breath away from it, his lips grazing so slightly against the delicate flesh as to not be there at all.

  "Let us see what power you truly possess," he whispered.

  Her remaining senses heightened, she heard him bend to her neck and felt the warmth of his parted lips as they met the crook of her neck. Her eyes rolled back into her head as his teeth scraped against skin, biting down without puncturing. His hands grasped at her backside as they had at her breasts, pillowing flesh between his outspread fingers.

  The exploration of her body quickened, hands and li
ps moving independently until she was awash in sensation, head tilted back and breath escaping from her parted lips as she succumbed to awareness. Around her the air buzzed with the low rumbling of electric current, an occasional arc snapping and fizzling above and around her. He bit down into her flesh again, this time at the pinch of extra flesh just beneath her navel. The delicate muscles of her pelvis contracted and she cried out, the sound so unnatural to her ears. A second followed, and before she could cry out for a third time he gripped his hands at her head and pulled it forward until their mouths were joined, the third expulsion of sound lost between their lips.

  She had never truly been kissed before. Never once tasted another's tongue with her own. Her instinct as the kiss slowed and deepened was to wrap her arms around him, to encase his body with her own so they were no further apart than a breath. Instead he was close enough to feel but not to touch, her body ripened and eager to feel more of him.

  In her mind's eye she saw herself: naked and exposed, arms trussed up above her head, a faceless, shapeless man who was nothing more than whispers and legend kissing her with such aching familiarity that she didn't mind all the rest.

  Realization dawned like the first rays of sunlight cresting above the mountains of Raving Thistle: she might enjoy having her virginity taken, even by the stranger known only to her as The Immortal.

  As she had the thought his intimate touch receded, his mouth as suddenly gone from hers as it had appeared. The snapping of electricity dissipated to a low rumbling before receding as though through the cracks of the room, leaving them in nothing but silence. Her arms were immediately released from their confinement, dropping with heaviness to her sides as blood trickled its way back into the dormant limbs.

  Rielle felt bereft of the absence of sensation that had nearly consumed her not a moment prior. Fueled by a reckless sense of anger she reached for the ribbons tied at the back of her head and yanked the blindfold off, her eyes immediately adjusting to the dim candlelight that cast soft shadows into the sharp features of The Immortal's face.