Now that the panic attack faded, he could take in his surroundings a little more clearly. Just because he had given up on fighting for his freedom didn’t mean that he ignored any other possibility.
For example, now that he wasn’t forced to keep his eyes forward by a pair of mooks with cattle prods, he noted the various stone paths that branched off from the one they were on. He felt his ears twitch at the sound of an engine, his head turning to look at the various cars that drove in the distance towards the manor. They were mostly European luxury vehicles with the odd police cruiser or two. However, he wasn’t thinking about how much money those slick cars cost, nor how many police officers were pawns in Ira’s hand.
No, what he was thinking about was where those cars were coming from. There was at least one road that went to the Dante’s complex. However, from what he can tell, there were no bridges that connected this island to Monterose.
The cars could’ve been brought in via ferry. That certainly was an option, and he knew Ira had the money for private yachts and cargo ships to bring in supplies. Yet the amount of times he heard the foghorns did not match the number of cars speeding to and from the manor.
So there has to be another way into Dante Island.
Another way off of this prison.
He could feel it returning to him. The only treasure that came from the pandora’s box filled with monstrosities and darkness.
He blinked, looking back up at the sky, frowning slightly. The clouds were ganging up on the sun, blocking its rays from touching their skin. He winced seeing the shadows creeping over them, the sky becoming overcast, “Well, so much for a delightful walk.”
“What are you talking about?” Ira turned back to him, her sultry voice delicate, not wanting to break the comfortable quiet of their journey, “It’s beautiful. The wind feels good.” She jumped off the path, kicking off her heels. Her toes dug into the grass and she sighed, her voice like silk in the wind, playing with the floating leaves from a nearby tree. “It’s been a long time since we enjoyed ourselves like this!” She held out her hand again, hopeful that this time, he would take it.
However, his guard remained firm, and he turned away from her outstretched palm, looking over the sea just a few yards away. “I don’t understand why you brought me out here. Reminding me of how far away home is? That’s cruel.”
Her fingers curled into her palm, and she pressed her knuckles against the center of her forehead. “I said I wanted to be nice to you.”
“I could try to run, you know? With my ‘super speed’, I could get away.”
“You and I both know that I’ll catch you.” There was a primal edge to her deepening voice as she glared at him from under her fist. “This is your home.”
He laughed, motioning to the water, free of the barges and ferries he wanted to see. “This is not a home! This entire place is just my fucking dungeon!”
Her nostrils flared, the peace that she had been enjoying burning away into flimsy pieces of ash. “I have given you so much! I brought you here to remind you what else you could have.”
The clouds darkened, covering the sky with deep grays, the breeze cutting sharply against their skin. Tristan's eyes narrowed, his brow clenching together while he still held a bitter smile on his face. “There is NOTHING I could have here. You OWN me. You are my fucking jailer! Everything here is TAINTED by you!”
She pressed her forehead even harder against the center of her forehead, her teeth grinding as her shoulders tensed. Her fist opened, dragging her palm down over her nose, then pausing over her lips. Her shoulders shook as her nails dug into the side of her jaw. Black smoke slowly seeped from the minor cuts, climbing languidly upwards towards the darkening sky. A slow chuckle seeped out from between her fingers, and she lowered her hand down. “Tell me, Sweetie. What did you have before?”
Tristan's hands lowered. “I had a home-”
“A shitty row home just at the edges of the warehouse district.”
He shook his his head, “I had freedom-”
“You were a vigilante. Meant to be in jail or thrown into the ocean. You had no future.”
He grimaced, his eyes twitching as he felt a drop of water hit his cheek. “I had my family-”
“The limbless flesh light and the stuttering ginger runaway. Those shits could do nothing for you.”
His fist clenched together, the grey clouds weeping, “Evie took care of me-”
“THAT’S NOT HER-“ Ira caught herself, hissing with teeth bared. “Did she? You don’t even know her REAL name.” She smiled, her pearly whites shining against her ruby lips. “Did ‘Evie’ give you a ‘mediocre blow job.’” Her lips slowly pursed, her cheeks sucking in before she laughed. “Did she get your dick wet? Did she really take care of your needs? Did she give you what you wanted?”
“I had a life!”
“YOU HAD NOTHING!”
At her proclamation, the sky sobbed. The small drizzle heralded downpour over them, his vision marred by streaks of rain colliding against the grass. His sandals sank into the soaking grass, digging into the mud that rose to the surface. It wasn’t her pressure that made him sagged towards the swampy ground.
It was the rain, pounding the truth of her words into his flesh, plopping against the scars that showed from under his soaked shirt.
Ira laughed, though the edge of it was soft, as if she did not just crush whatever pride he had left. It danced against the thick droplets as she spun, her head leaning up and back. “I love rainy days. I told you this. The water feels so good against my skin.” She nuzzled against her left shoulder, the deep peach dress clinging to her flesh. Her lips remained in a smile and she glanced at him, eyes lidded, “You had nothing. I’m giving you…everything.”
He lifted his head slowly, long bangs casting shadows over his eyes; they were dark pools that reflected the clouds, a storm swirling in those navy depths.
She was offering everything.
He was going to take it.
He stepped forward, abandoning the shoes being swallowed by the mud. The rain slowed into still, clear pearls, frozen in time. Ira straightened her neck, surprise in her eyes as he vanished from view for a millisecond.
Before appearing just in front of her.
Her eyes narrowed, and she backed up, measuring the milliseconds between them. With each step she took back, he took another step forward, blurring out of view, before reappearing just in front of her. This slow dance continued until her back was against a tree and his hand suddenly slammed against the bark beside her head.
There was no fear in her eyes; her gaze softened. She looked up at him, her lips parting, a small stream of water splashing against her pink tongue.
She looked just like she did before…
Her lips as parted as her red robe opened for his wanton embrace, lust and passion in her eyes as she sang to him. As she needed him.
His fingers dug into the bark as he hissed, his voice low and heavy. “What the fuck did you think I wanted?”
Check out Gothic tale of Intrigue, Classiscsm, and a bit of Magic. Where the nobles of Vista wear masks and pay the highest price to hide their dirty little secrets, utilizing the green thumb of The Honorable to keep their skeletons underground.
Link in the Descripton!