"Monsieur," Her voice surprised him, awakening him with a jolt, her hand under her face against the pillow. He blinked his eyes once, twice. He jumped out of the bed, turning his back to her, pulling up his trousers, "No, come back,"
She reached for his arm, and he yielded, sliding down unto the seat of the bed, his white mask so deceivingly frightening in the darkness, "What time is it?"
"It's around eight, we slept through the whole afternoon," He muttered, still buckling up his pants. Now what would happen the whole night was the issue. Contemplating this, Amira sat up pulling the blankets up around her shoulders, her hair cascading down in a mess. He struggled not to touch that hair.
Her head turned to his face, only looking at her. He spoke first, a blurted out apology.
"Please do not," Her only question was how long she would remain in this state of oblivion, before he decided to be ridden of her.
"This isn't fair," He grumbled, a child unsatisfied with his toy horse, "I don't even understand, how any God likes to play with me in this way, Amira, I'm enchanted by you,"
And the leap of air entered her breath, like the effects of mint in her throat.
"Someone amazes me so much about you, your face, your body, and God, I know I'm just a goddamn boy drawn to the first woman who doesn't push me away, but how twisted, isn't it?" His voice increased in rapidity, "I never thought I could do that to you, you've done nothing to deserve this—this torture and yet you play along, you play along to my dreadful demands but I do not want to keep you this way, to be degraded and raped, over and over, without a voice. It angers me so much and yet I cannot stop from being next to you, I'm drawn to you, I want to know you as you are, damn this world, I'm talking too much, oh Amira, Amira, " He blubbered out, his hands muffling his voice as it slid over his face.
"Monsieur-"
"Call me by my name, damn it!" He roared.
"I understand, Erik," Her own confidence filled the silence in the room, "I understand everything,"
"You cannot possibly see it from my eyes, "His comment made him wince in fear she took it wrongly, "I do not even know what I mean."
She searched and then took his hand and the feeling of her hand on his, flesh upon flesh.
"It shocks me so much, I barely know who you are but I cannot deny you anything, I am so happy when you are," The words did not sound like it came from her. Happy was not the word though, it was much more than that, something dizzying.
"Amira," His other hand raised one of hers, raised it to his lips to which he pressed it unto. In the dark room, she eyed him, his wiry build, the arch of his collar bone and the belly button that was rising up and down as he breathed.
"Will you ever show me your face?" She blurted out the question. Boy, he never thought he could get shocked so easily in one day.
"I have," His indistinctive tone assured her he was as nervous as she was, every word they asked each other was another checker piece forward only it wasn't as fun as it would be otherwise if they were only a gentleman and a lady at those European balls.
"Again, I want to know who you really are,"
"You know my name," He tried to reason.
"As you know mine, but," Frustrated, she bit her lip.
"Trust me," He might have just mouthed it out, being barely audible. Trusting him was easy; his voice pleaded it, his soft grasp on her yearned for it. She could not forget one of the things the khanum had said to her only hours before, "Be careful who you trust, he could be a monster, a reincarnation of Ahriman himself."
Meekly, she nodded, and he emitted a large sigh. Sitting up from the bed, he slid back on his collared shirt, walking past the sprawled out bits of clothing on the floor. He came back eventually, a glass of water and some bread in his hands.
"Thank you," She uttered out.
Sitting up she crossed her legs. That felt wrong. She closed her legs and sat up while wrapping the blanket tighter around her body.
"Now what?" He murmured eyes only on her. She could only shrug.
They lay in bed across each other, her arms crossed over her own body, his back turned to her. It was impossible to sleep. She placed one foot out of the blankets, then the other, both placed on the cold floor. Holding on to the poles of the canopy bed, she found her way to his side and she sank to the ground, just high enough to be face to face with his pained sleeping face. Her hands reached for the mask, ran through his hair to find any strings, and pulled it slowly from his face. Every fidget he made created a sudden jolt of butterflies in her stomach but it was only when she had pulled it halfway off his face the light next to him flew open and he stared at her, a mixture of anger and betrayal on his face.
"Why?" He grasped one hand around her neck, tightening and loosening the fingers around her neck.
"I'm sorry, monsieur!" She bawled, her tears falling quickly on the back of his hands. He nearly fell out of the bed, one hand over his face and his released hand reaching for his white mask as she sat, weeping.
"I'm so sorry," She repeated with a wail.
Fumbling, he placed the mask back on his face and stomped away to the caverns of his domain.
A/N: Hey there...Hope you had a good day there, better than mine at least, and um...enjoy!
"Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets." Arthur Miller