21

A bright light woke her up. It was a stark contrast to the darkness here, literally and figuratively. But it was one of the mornings, or one of the best mornings Regan had had. It felt like she had slept in silk, where she practically had. The bed was soft and fluffy, and the blankets were warm. 

The illusion of a good, ethereal morning, made her not want to wake up. But that lasted short and with it, everything came back to her. How could she think like that? She was kidnapped, in danger and... she was enjoying the bed. She hated herself for that.

Regan sat up, rubbing her eyes, the weight of her captivity sinking in like a ton of bricks once more. The scent of incense was not alone anymore, now mixed with a heavy, seductive smell that she immediately recognized.

She slipped off the bed, her eyes searching the room, which now was slightly more illuminated. And she found them, the crimson roses. They were in an ancient, gothic vase, placed on the railing of the window. It was like a silent proof that he was there, never stopping. Being watched asleep wasn't new for her. But it didn't make it any less disturbing.

"I shouldn't have slept," Regan muttered to herself in frustration. She grabbed the vase, cautious not to break it, and hid it in the bathroom. When she turned to the room again, her eyes caught another tray of food on the bedside table. There were no more 'spaghettis'. It was a new dish, something that smelled like chicken soup, something that felt like home, and a glass of water.

"It's a trap," she whispered, her stomach grumbling despite her suspicion. She brought it closer to her nose, inhaling the heavenly aroma of the soup. Then the glass of water. She was as incredibly parched.

But she knew better than to trust her senses. That warm chicken soup might be as poisoned as her situation was.

So, she turned away. But she turned back again, only wanting to ease her thirst. It smelled like water, and she thought to give it a try despite her fear. With her courage she took just a sip from the glass. It tasted sweet, not sweet like sugar, but just water. She was so thirsty that she drank it all.

But just as her throat began to soothe, she felt something course through her veins, a similar feeling of haunting. She heard movement, her heart pounding in her ears.

The doors lock made the sound of intrusion, and they opened, revealing him. The demon. He was clad in imperial black, a choice of clothing that made him look even more obscure. Dark hair were swept back, but a few strands still rebelled. The shirt underneath was unbuttoned, showing a glimpse of pale chest carved with muscles. His boots were polished and shiny, stepping on the floor with a deliberateness that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Why haven't you eaten already?" he asked coldly, snapping her out of the daze. Regan realized she had been staring, her cheeks flushing slightly as she adverted her eyes. She didn't want to look at his hawk-like gaze. It was like he could see layers of her soul she didn't even know existed.

"I'm not hungry," she gritted out, trying to not show whatever she was feeling now. He leaned against the doorway, and she couldn't restrain from looking at his claw-like hands, sharp long nails, and the precious, rich rings that adorned his fingers.

"Eat," he said simply, though there was an undercurrent of anger in his voice, "or, I'll make you."

Regan swallowed hard, and she knew she had to treat carefully. But the anger, the frustration, it was too much. "How so?" she challenged sharply, her jaw clenched.

A cold smirk tugged at his lips, "You'll see. I'll come back later." And with those chilling words, he left, the door slamming shut behind him with a trail of mist. Regan released a breath she didn't know was holding.

Her hunger was forgotten as she thought of his threat, mind already racing with the worst kind of scenarios. She eyed the soup, her stomach begging for food. But she was too stubborn. She'd rather starve than give him the satisfaction that she was afraid of him doing anything to her because she didn't eat.

She lay again on the bed, which now had become her only station of staying in that fancy hellhole. She thought of what lay outside, how'd that sky look in open. It was a bright redder now, but she had no track of time to determine if it was morning.

Time, or the illusion of it, it passed like that, with her constantly on the edge. She had decided to take a look at the books on the shelf, just to see. Most of them were in an foreign script, but there were some in English, which seemed a mismatched choice for books in another planet. She flipped the pages, not patient to start a read that would waste her time and bore her head. But just as she flipped randomly, her eyes managed to catch certain words: 'love', 'kiss' 'his'. A frown crossed her face as she realized there were romance novels in the mix. Why were they here? Did he think a captive would read such garbage while in a prison? Or worse, did he think she would?

The silence was disturbed by a knock on the door, and Regan quickly placed the books back in the shelf. What if it was him behind? She moved closer to the door, her pulse thudding. It was the servant girl. Thank God, Regan thought.

Each time the servant entered her room, her expression was more frantic that the last, "My lady," she said, almost pleading, "Please. Eat."

"I'm not eating that demon's food," Regan retorted, her eyes igniting with defiance. She had had enough of being told to eat. Why couldn't they just leave her alone.

"But lord Sirius, he'll be a-angry," the girl stuttered, her eyes darting behind her, as if expecting the demon to storm in.

Regan couldn't help but feel a mix of pity and anger for the girl. She was just following orders here, it wasn't her fault. "What's your name?" Regan asked with a softer voice.

"I-I'm Althea," the girl answered, clearly not at ease, "And I'll be punished if you don't eat."

"Look, I'm being hold against my will here," Regan said, trying to control her frustration, "You'd do the same if you were me. I just...." she trailed off, watching as Althea's expression turned even more pleading, "Fine, I'll eat this time," Regan added with a huff. The lie was nothing she wanted to tell, but she had to play along. For now.

Althea didn't look convinced, but left, disappearing behind the door. Regan sighed in frustration, and walked away from the tray, trying to keep her mind off food. The servant girl kept just getting on her nerves.

***

His eyes were narrowed as he stared at her through a small magical mirror, watching her red locks flow every once she ran her hand through her hair. The bangs framed her face perfectly, contrasting with her pale skin. She sat near the window, playing with the curtain's hem. The food was untouched. What a strange little being she was.

He couldn't keep the displeasure from showing, slamming the mirror down the table. "Why isn't she eating?" he barked at Althea, who was standing in front of him, shaking like a leaf.

"I-I don't know, my lord," Althea stammered, "I even begged her to eat. But she refuses. She's too stubborn."

"She's not here to starve," he said, voice cold and hard, "Bring her something else. And make sure she eats that time," he looked at her with warning, and the girl nodded vigorously before bowing and leaving.

When Althea entered her room again, Regan still hadn't eaten anything. She couldn't bring herself too, not when there were better things to worry about, "My lady, I've brought you something different," she said tentatively.

"I'm not here to try your flavors," Regan said, her voice strained with exhaustion, not a physical but mental one, "I'm a prisoner."

"I've made it with my own hands," Althea said, taking a step closer, showing the tray which now held a tray of a plate filled with what seemed to be pancakes, "There's nothing bad in it, I swear. Please, eat."

Regan's frustration only raised. Why should she even eat here? And why so persistent? But she couldn't ignore the emptiness of her stomach anymore though.

"How do I trust you?" she asked, her voice low.

"I....I don't know. But you have to eat something. You've been here for long. If he'd wanted to cause you harm, he'd not waited so long," the servant replied, her eyes downcast.

Been here for long. She didn't even know how to interpret that. But maybe she could try a bite. Not in front of Althea, not because of him, but because she wanted to.

"Fine," she snapped, "but I'm not doing this because I'm scared of him."

Althea's face lit up slightly, "I hope you like it," she said, placing the tray on the table and turning away, closing the door with a click.