Elizabeth Crembell

"So, I'm guessing you'd like this back?" James held up my leather jacket as I sat across the table from him. I had been escorted by metal soldiers and brought to an interrogation room. My wrists were cuffed to the chair by metal. I had decided a while ago that struggling wouldn't do anything but chafe the skin on my wrists and cause irritation. It was pointless. 

The interrogation room had a light mist in the air. The floor was made of wood and had been neatly polished. However, the lights were low, making me unable to see everything around me. The scent of pine and sweat lingered in the air as I breathed.

I avoided his question and responded with something more personal: "So this is your definition of privacy?" He leaned his elbows on the table and studied me. 

"So you don't want it back?" He raised a brow as he questioned me. I rolled my eyes. 

"Of course I want it back." He eyed my jacket curiously. The jacket's feminine figure must have caught his attention as his fingers traced the expensive leather. He set it on the floor and leaned back in his chair. His brown eyes looked warm but bored, expressionless almost. His biceps flexed against his tight, long sleeve, black silk sports shirt. I crossed my legs in discomfort as he studied me. 

As I adjusted myself some of my hair fell over my shoulder and covered part of my face. 

"Full name?" My brows furrowed, my eyes flickered to his lips as he talked. 

"Pardon?" Was he asking me what my full name was? He sighed. 

"What's your full name?" I scoffed and looked away, shaking my head lightly. He had no right to know my full name. It was bad enough that he already knew my real name. Any of the things I tell him right now could be used against me in the future, used against me by The Dark Lord. But part of me wanted him to know and part of me didn't. Part of me trusted him and part of me didn't. 

"Elizabeth Marie." I glanced at him through the corner of my eye. He leaned forward in his chair and put a sexy face on, almost looking like a lioness squaring up its face. 

"Elizabeth Marie...?" I looked back at him and gave him an emotionless expression. 

"Crembell."

He leaned back again and nodded. 

"Nickname?" 

"Ellie." He brought his hand up to his mouth in a thoughtful manner shaking his head in disagreement. 

"It's too childish." I glared at him. 

"My mother gave it to me." He shrugged. 

"Well, Elizabeth Marie, I would like to call you Beth." I chuckled in awe. 

"You can call me whatever you want, you won't be seeing me much longer." His head tweaked to the side. 

"Your confidence is adorable." My eyes stayed connected with his. He had caught me off guard. I looked away as blood rushed to my cheeks and stung my cheekbones. 

"What's your favorite color?" His voice was smooth, not rough like before when we had first encountered each other. 

"Cyan." Cyan was the color of the Winter Clan due to its love for blues and greens. It often accented my eyes due to the fact that they didn't have much color to them. They were dark but had slits of other colors in them. Some colors accented my eyes and some didn't. 

"What's your favorite hobby?" At that moment, when he had asked me what my favorite hobby was, my head snapped to him. I could feel a twinkle in my eyes. 

"Dancing." Dancing was my passion. Dancing was something that allowed me to be myself. I could express myself and get a workout at the same time. I wasn't a prissy ballerina, though, I was a hip-hop chick. He raised his brows and raised the right corner of his mouth up into a smirk. 

"Really?" His tone didn't hold any sarcasm or disrespect. It held curiosity. 

"Yes." He smiled and looked away. I narrowed my eyes at him. 

"I'm not dancing for you if that's what you're thinking." He chuckled. 

"It's not." I huffed. This was boring. 

"So what's you're full name, James...?" He chuckled and shifted in his chair as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

"James Blake," I raised a brow. 

"James Blake...?" I mimicked. He chuckled. 

"Parker." James Blake Parker. It wasn't a bad name. 

"Any nickname?" He scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat. 

"Ace." Ace. Such a sexy name. Ace sounded like one of those names where the guy would lift weights and play sports all the time. Or maybe they would be a leader or a jerk. 

"Ace? How'd you get that one?" He smiled. 

"My mother gave it to me when she noticed my acceleration in Xing Yi Quan and Tai Chi Quan." My brows furrowed. "The nickname stands for someone who excels in a certain activity, meaning unity." It was a beautiful name. And with his skills and abilities, and looks, may I add, I felt like it was perfect for him. 

"What are those things?" I was actually curious about what he was talking about. What were those things? Martial Arts? 

"Xing Yi Quan and Tai Chi Quan are forms of Chinese Kung Fu styles. Xing Yi focuses more on aggressive and unpredictable movements that include explosive power and fighting skills. Tai Chi focuses on slow and skilled movements in order to develop internal power."

"So you're a martial artist?" I asked with a sly smile. He laughed. A real laugh. 

"I guess if that's easier to remember, then sure, I'm a martial artist." My personality had never really focused on power. I had focused on expression and fundamentals. I loved to prove people wrong and show people what I was capable of. The only reason I had focused on martial arts and fighting techniques was that of my mother. 

What about his family?

"Does anyone else in your family participate in martial arts?" James looked up at the ceiling in thought. He shook his head after a couple seconds of thinking. 

"No, none that I can think of. Not the Kung Fu stuff, I mean." I nodded. "What about you?"

"I'm an only child." James tilted his head. 

"What about your parents?" My breath hitched at the last word he said. Parents? I was never privileged enough to know what it was like to have more than one parent. I fought the tears that threatened to clog my eyes. I looked down at the table and allowed my eyes to lightly glaze over. 

"My father is dead." Silence filled the air, most likely from James' shock and my loneliness. 

"I'm sorry," He said finally, clearing his throat afterward. I shrugged and continued to stare at the table. 

"There's nothing to be sorry for, it was a simple mistake." 

"What do you mean it was a 'simple mistake'? Was your father shot?" I let out a shaky sigh as I remembered my mother telling me stories about how much he used to laugh when he was with my mother. She made it sound like he loved her a lot whenever she talked about him. I don't think I could explain how much she misses him. 

"Shot, yes. In the Divided War." The Divided War was the first war taken place between the two Kingdoms. The war lasted for nearly four years before my mother and The Dark Lord called it off because of so many deaths and little gain of power. Neither of them was going to win the war so they stopped. I looked up at James, meeting his brown eyes. 

He looked remorseful. Sad. 

"I'm sorry, Beth." My brain rippled from the nickname, but I didn't mind. It was only a matter of time before Canary or my mother would come and bring me back home. I didn't say anything, there was nothing to be said. I didn't know what to say anymore anyway. 

My mother had done everything she could when I was a child to keep me uneducated with the Divided War. I was young and naive, I didn't understand what it meant anyway. But once I turned sixteen, she gave me a whole lesson on it because she thought I was mature enough to handle it. 

I had cried in my room for three days in mourn of my father. James stood up and pushed his chair back. My eyes roamed down his body as he stood up. He was wearing casual black sweatpants and black tennis shoes. My muscles tightened when he strode towards me. I flinched when he reached for my right wrist. He froze and looked me in the eye. 

"Don't worry," He smiled gently. "I won't hurt you." My brain screamed danger but my body screamed comfort as my muscles relaxed at his given words. A relaxed shudder escaped my lips when his fingers barely grazed over my skin as he worked the metal cuff. 

As he managed to un-cuff my right wrist, he went to my left one and freed me. As he worked my bounding my eyes couldn't help but travel over his face when he wasn't focused on me. He had thick lashes, and his cheekbones looked sharp under the dim light that was given. 

He stood up straight. My eyes followed him up as he looked down at me. He held out a hand. I eyed it curiously and then gazed back up at his face. Should I take his hand? Should I stay sitting? I tentatively reached out and took his hand. His palm was surprisingly soft against mine as I expected it to be rough and calloused. 

He pulled me up and lead me away from the table. The pine and sweat scent roamed behind him. It was him I was smelling, and damn did he smell good. He stopped a ways from the table and lightly pulled me in front of him. As I faced him I stared at his chest. He took my hands in his and rubbed his thumbs over the tops of my hands. 

"Dance with me." I looked up in disbelief. I could barely make out his face, but I had seen him enough to imagine him in my mind. 

"What?" He lifted my hands and brought them to his mouth. His mouth lightly touched my knuckles, making my cheeks blush so bad it hurt. 

"I love it when you blush." He whispered through my knuckles. 

"How do you know I'm blushing?" I asked in a tight breath. I could feel him smile. 

"I didn't, you just told me." And because of that, I blushed even more as the tingling pain spread to my ears. "Dance with me." He lightly dropped my hands and slid his arms around my waist. This shirt dress was not very long, not to mention the material wasn't that thick either. 

I thought of quick excuses. 

"I'm not dressed for this." My statement didn't phase him. 

"You'll be fine."

"What about the music?" James chuckled lightly. 

"You don't need music in order to slow dance. But if you really want some I can will some to play." 

"Why do you want to dance with me?" His thumbs brushed over my hip bones, sending little tickle nerves up my spine. I acted like nothing affected me. 

"From what you've told me about your childhood and your father," He paused, most likely to choose his words wisely. "I feel bad for you. And keeping you here doesn't make anything better. I'd at least like to try and make you a little happy or relaxed." All the things my mother has told me about the Shadow Clan people don't match up to this man touching me right now. 

Never in my life have I been treated like this by anyone, not even anyone at home. It was almost. . . reassuring. Light slow dance music played and rang through the air. James had more than likely used his mind control in order to start the music. 

Earlier today James told me to let go and have some fun. I haven't had fun in a while, maybe this was my chance. 

James took my right hand in his left and held it up to his side. I slid my left hand up his chest and to the back of his neck. He pulled me closer so that our faces were only centimeters apart. My body moved in sync with his as both of us stayed silent. 

This was my first slow dance. I had never been able to slow dance with my father growing up at the Father-Daughter Ball held every Valentine's day, I didn't have any brothers or uncles either. My mother is an only child, as am I. But my mother's father died of cancer when I was fifteen years old. 

I felt the need to rest my head on James' chest. The music was making me feel warm and tired inside. 

"Tell me about your favorite dream," He whispered in my ear. My breath hitched from his sudden gesture. I had already been open to him, why not just keep going, right? 

"My favorite dream. . ." I repeated with thought. I had had so many dreams that I couldn't remember. I didn't have a favorite dream, but I had a recurring one that would always come back. "I don't have a favorite dream, but I have a dream that I've had multiple times." I looked up at him, catching the glimmer of his dark eyes. 

"I would always be sitting in front of my vanity in my bedroom brushing my hair after a ball, listening to my jewelry box music, given to me from my mother on my sixth birthday." James placed my right hand around his neck and put his free hand on my other hip. "A man would appear a ways behind me and I would see his reflection. A different man would appear every single time, we would always end up hugging for some reason." I rested my head on James' chest and closed my eyes. 

"Does he harm you?" He asked burying his nose in my hair. 

I lightly shook my head, "No." 

Why was I opening up to him? Out of everyone in the world, why him? I pushed him away forcefully and quickly transitioned into my frozen form. My hair turning white and my eyes turning blue, my skin becoming pale and frosty patterns carving into my skin. 

"Stop willing me to tell you these things," I demanded. He was controlling me, wasn't he? I didn't feel any pain but he was good at being sneaky. He was good at persuasion. His soft gaze turned cold as I distanced myself from him. My body was so confused. 

"I'm not." He stated coldly. Those words hit me like a punch, I stopped breathing. My gaze went from James to the chair, and back to James. It was obvious that he wanted to tame me again and put me back in that chair. I could feel the anger radiating off of his body. 

I had to freeze that chair and break it.