Chapter Six

Slight mature content warning

*sorry for the lateness :(

So there I was, on a sunny Tuesday morning, crouched on the floor with my ear pressed to the new bathroom door in mine and Idris’s bedroom.

Desperately waiting for Idris to take a shit.

Yes. This was how far I’d fallen.

If only Idris were just a little bit dumber, then I wouldn’t have had to resort to this. But alas, his intelligence was, shockingly, slightly above average, and he’d foiled all my other escape attempts.

That was probably mean of me to think. But I was feeling rather uncharitable towards him at the moment, so I really didn’t care.

When night had fallen on the day I’d woken up, Idris returned to the room to sleep, and I had once again tried to convince him he was being fucking insane, but he’d brushed off my concerns and settled right in to sleep without issue, which was so fucking unfair. I hadn’t been able to sleep a wink, but on the bright side, I’d had time to come up with a few escape plans while I was staring blankly at the ceiling.

None of those plans, unfortunately, had worked.

First, I’d tried to seduce him into freeing me. Half of Idris’s brain was in his dick at all times, so I’d thought for sure he’d fold, but he told me no!

Me. He said no to me.

This happened on my second night of being trapped. As Idris was getting into his pajamas, I’d slithered my way behind him, crawling across the bed so I could steal the shirt he’d been about to put on out of his hands. He spun around, bewildered, only to have me launch myself into his arms, giving him no choice but to catch me with a grunt. When he did, I wrapped my legs around him firmly and brushed my lips over his teasingly.

“My shirt now,” I said, tossing it towards my personal dresser on the other side of the room. “What are you gonna do about it?”

He smiled, but there was a tinge of nervousness to it as he eyed my wounded side, obviously worried that I’d reopened it by pouncing on him. “What’s mine is yours, you know that. Are you alright?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, father. I promise I wouldn’t jump you if I thought it was going to cause me to burst open like a piñata. Give me a little more credit.”

He gave me a deadpan stare. “Rook, you once challenged Samir to a race while you had a broken ankle. I’ll give you credit when you’ve earned it.”

Okay, that was fair.

“Well, I’m fine.” I brushed my nose past his, looking at him through my lashes. “More than fine, actually. And considering how long I’ve been cooped up in this room, I have way too much energy. Mind helping me with that?”

I almost never had to be so blatant with my seduction. Usually, if I wanted sex, all I had to do was look at Idris a certain way and he’d be all over me. But I’d tried giving him that look earlier, and he turned his head so he wouldn’t see it.

Asshole!

So I had no choice but to ask for it, even though it galled me. Usually, Idris was the one pestering me into bed. Now he was making me work for it and I was not happy about it.

“You haven’t been cooped up in here for that long,” Idris said, instead of immediately pressing me to the bed, which had to be a crime in some universe, “I think we can let your energy build a little more.”

I gaped at him.

…The theory that this wasn’t Idris once again popped to the front of my mind, and so I leaned in and sank my teeth into his neck without warning, taking a long pull of his blood. Idris grunted in surprise, but didn’t drop me, letting me feed on him without complaint.

The purpose of biting him was two-fold: first, if this was a shapeshifter of some sort, surely they wouldn’t be able to fake the taste of Idris’s blood, and second, biting Idris had always had the unintended side effect of making him really horny. If he wouldn’t respond to me outright asking for sex, maybe I just had to get him in the mood first.

The taste was, disappointingly, exactly the same. Not that his blood tasted bad. It tasted really fucking good, actually, and I savored it whenever I had it, but I’d honestly rather have to kill some sort of insidious creature than figure out how to get a therapist in here to fix my husband.

And even more disappointing, once I had taken a few gulps and pulled back, I remained tragically fully clothed and unravished. Idris gently set me back on the bed.

Well, now I was confused. Was he suddenly not attracted to me anymore? That definitely wasn’t what happened with Calix, so what was going on?

I peeked at Idris’s crotch and – well. Full mast. So he was turned on.

But he wasn’t doing anything about it. I glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow, completely unable to conceal my confusion, and a light flush came over Idris’s cheeks.

“Rook, as tempting as you are, you’re still injured. The way we have sex isn’t usually…delicate. And also, I’m not stupid. I know you’re trying to soften me into letting you out.”

“Making you soft wasn’t the goal, actually,” I murmured, looking directly at his crotch. Idris’s flush deepened.

“You know what I mean. Either way, I’m not going to take you like this. Once you heal some more and realize that staying in here is the best thing for you, then we can do whatever you’d like.”

Yeah, like I was ever going to realize that this was the ‘best’ thing for me. I made one last ditch effort, and looked up at him with a pout.

“But I’m horny now. I don’t want to wait.” I reached forward and cupped his balls through his sweatpants, and he cursed, jolting out of my reach. I stared at the place where he’d been in confusion for a full minute before looking back at him in astonishment. He had his eyes closed, taking a few deep breaths and looking like he was in pain.

“…Really?” I asked incredulously, and he peeked an eye open.

“Really,” he confirmed, but his voice was hoarse.

Well, that…that was just…ugh!

Incensed, I flipped around on the bed and buried myself in the covers, pulling the blankets up around my ears and glaring at the opposite wall. Well, fine! Try to touch me anytime over the next thousand years and see what fucking happens!

A few minutes later, I heard Idris sigh, and then the bed dipped as he settled in next to me. I felt the heat of his body coming closer, and my spirits lifted just a touch. Had he changed his mind?

But no. All he did was press a light kiss to the back of my head and then settled back in to sleep. My throat felt tight, and I had difficulty falling asleep. When I finally did, I was plagued by strange dreams. Well, nightmares, really.

Having dreams at all was a relatively new experience for me. Amani had only forgiven me for what happened with Calix and restored my ability to dream a year ago. The dreams I’d had over that time period varied, but most of them were light and sweet. Sometimes they were absurd, like the dream I’d had where Gabriel had taken up embroidery and made me a special pillowcase with Idris’s face embroidered on it.

Yeah, I have no idea where that one came from.

My nightmares, on the other hand, were usually more of the same thing that I’d experienced for the past thousand years. Trauma this, trauma that, yadda yadda. It was getting kind of old at this point.

But the nightmare I had that night was more than absurd and more than a simple rehashing of past experiences.

It started off with the feeling of hot hands roving over my thighs, and for a moment, I was confused over whether I was dreaming or still awake. Had Idris finally decided to fuck me?

Pleased with the turn of events, whether real or not, I purred and flipped over onto my back, luxuriating in the worshipful touch. He’d slid down under the covers and was pressing kisses to my hip bone as he stroked the inside of my thighs, scraping his teeth over me intermittently to leave marks. I pulled up the blanket to look at him and make a teasing remark, but as the dim light of the room hit his face under the blanket, he flinched, and his head whipped up to look at me. I froze.

There was blood on his face. Thick tracks of dark red blood trailed from his eyes to his chin, red drops clinging to his white lashes like clumps of paint.

He was crying blood. Why was he crying blood?!