I am not Richelle Mead and therefore do not own Vampire Academy.
Rose POV
"Aaaagh!" I scream myself out of my dream with Adrian when a searing pain emmits from my thigh. What the hell? I open my eyes to see the smoking Strigoi smiling evilly at me. I look down to my leg and see that he has his lit cigarette pressed against the inside of my left thigh, burning it. He hasn't removed it even though I'm awake, and can smell the odor of burning flesh. "I'm awake! I'm awake! You can stop now." I yell in his face. Finally, he takes it away from my leg and brings it up to his mouth and inhales deep. If he blows the smoke in my face again I'll...*cough, cough*. Son of a bitch! Even though the cigarette is no longer touching me, the damage has been done and my skin is still burning. I try to rub the spot with my other leg, but I can't reach it. I can feel tears prickling in my eyes, ready to spill but I won't let them. No way am I giving this asshole the satisfaction of seeing that.
He walks over to his previous spot on the other wall and stares at me for a while with a smirk on his face. I hate when these guys think they're in control, even if the circumstances do give them the upper hand. Yes, I'm chained to a wall, I can barely move and my body aches. Yes, I'm tired and want nothing more than to get to sleep, though he won't let me. And yes, I'm bored out of my mind, but he forgot one crucial element that still gives me some leverage. He didn't gag me. We engage in our silent stare war, neither wanting to give in. I take in his appearance as I stand and watch him. He looks like he was human before being turned, too bulky for a Moroi, yet not enough for a Dhampir. He looks to be about my age, about six foot, sandy blonde hair cut short and toned upper body. He's wearing old jeans, boots and a tshirt, reminding me of a good ole boy. All he needs is a cowboy hat and a farmer's tan. Hell, he might of had one before he went pale and red eyed. He has a decent enough face that I'm sure all the country girls swooned over. He has nice eyes, well except for the red part. I could tell that they were blue once upon a time. His eyebrows are what really define his eyes. I bet he could do that cool one eyebrow thing Dimitri does.
I wonder if he used to be a nice guy. You know the type, holding the door open for women and walking little old ladies across the street. I bet he said things like "Yes, Ma'am", "No sir" and "Gosh mister, I was just helping your sheep over the fence." I don't even realize I'm laughing at my own stupid joke until he speaks up.
"You think something's funny?" I can hear a slight southern accent when he speaks, which makes me laugh harder. I'm just so tired, I'm finding everything funny. He apparently doesn't see the humor and looks like he's getting annoyed.
"I was just imaging what you were like before. What's your name anyway?" My eyelids are getting so heavy, I'm hoping having a conversation will help keep me awake. He doesn't respond to my question, just takes out another cigarette and smokes. Well, if he doesn't want to talk to me, I'll talk to myself. "I bet your name is Bille Jo Bob. I'll call you Bob for short." He still doesn't speak but gives a little snort when I name him. "Bob. Bobby. Boborino, Bob-a-lob-a-ding-dong. The Bobinator." I keep talking and giggling at myself.
"You need to stop talking now." he hisses. I guess he doesn't like the names I picked out for him.
"Oh Bobby socks, don't be like that. Hey, I'm thirsty." I slur. "Can you get me a wass of glater, ur, I mean wass of.... no, it's wass,... urgh, can I get something to drink?" Even my tongue is too tired to work right. I look at him with my puppy dog eyes that works on everyone, except Bob apparently.
"No, now shut the hell up." he demands. What a grump. Sleep is trying its hardest to pull me under, as I rest my head on my arm that's chained up above my head. I do my best to keep my eyes open, watching Bob watching me. I wonder how long he'll let me sleep before he wakes me up in some unpleasant way. I can see my eyelids slowly shut, like theater curtains after a performance. I will them open, only to see them fall again. I finally give up and let them stay down.
I feel like I'm floating on a warm dark cloud, weightless and safe. That is until something ice cold and wet splashes my face. I gasp as I open my eyes to see Bob with an empty glass in his hand. The water is dripping off my hair, down my shirt and streaming down my exposed legs to pool at my feet. I'm awake now. I can't help shivering as the air blows against the cold water on my skin. I lick my lips, trying to get as much water as I can, I'm so thirsty. "That was the 'wass of glater' you asked for. You want some hot coffee next?"
"No, I'm good." I say as I try to shake the wet hair sticking to my forehead. I wonder how long I was out. I don't know if it was the nap or the water, but I feel more awake now.
I think I've decided that Stephan isn't torturing me by keeping me awake. No. He's trying to bore me to death. I hate this! It's been hours just standing here counting all the bricks in the walls around me. "Hey Bobster, did you know there are 853 bricks in those three walls. Obvisously I can't count this wall, being chained to it and all. I don't suppose you could unchain me so I could finish the room? It's going to drive me crazy. You know what I mean?" I know I'm babbling, but I'm delirious. He seems to be ignoring me as he sits there doing some crossword puzzle. "Bob." Nothing. "Bobeeee." I whine. He glances quickly in my direction, but doesn't say anything. I don't like being ignored. Wait, he's not paying attention. I close my eyes and let myself fall asleep, hoping he'll keep doing what he's doing.
This time he decides to wake me up by adding some artwork to my stomach, with his long, sharp fingernail. I actually don't wake right away. By the time I realize what's happining and open my eyes and look down, he's halfway done. My shirt is unbuttoned and hanging open, giving him access to my bare abdomen. I can feel the blood trickling down my legs. It hurts, a lot, but I bite my lip to keep from making a sound. I can't see what the picture is because my chest is in the way. I want to ask, but if I open my mouth, a scream might escape. I try to move away, but that just makes him growl and dig his nails into my hip to keep me still. After about ten minutes of inscruciating pain, he seems to be done as he backs up and admires his work. I take a look, but there is so much blood, I can't see what the design is. "Hey Picasso, what the hell is it suppose to be?" I pant while trying to keep my breathing under control as the pain continues.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Let me clean that up for you." He leans down and begins to lick up the blood, making the picture more clear. I hear him moan as he tastes my blood, making me shiver. I just hope he doesn't decide to take a bite. The fear that I've been able to keep at bay all day starts to emerge as Bob rises up and stands just inches from my face, my blood still on his lips. He licks his lips slowly with a hungry look in his eye. My heart starts racing as his gaze drifts from my eyes to the pulsing artery in my neck. He inches closer, never taking his eyes off his target, as if in a trance. I try to distract him by calling his name and moving away as much as I can, but he doesn't budge. I've resigned myself to the inevitable bite, when my cell door bursts open and Stephan walks in. Bob's head snaps up and he backs away from me. Part of me is thrilled Stephan came when he did and the other part is dreading what he came here for.
"Am I interupting something?" Stephan asks. I look over to Bob to see what his answer will be.
"No, not at all." he smirks at me. I glare at him before turning my attention back to Stephan. He walks up closer and looks me up and down. I then remember that my shirt is open, revealing my bra and panties along with my new body art. I look down and see that Bob has carved what looks like a long stem rose beneath my belly button. It actually looks cool.
"Thomas, this is one of your best works." he compliments Bob, who I guess is really named Thomas. I like Bob better. Stephan turns back to me with a smile. "Thomas here was a rather talented upcoming artist a hundred years ago. You should be proud to wear his work."
"Well, you know what they say, an artist's work is more valuable after his death. So after I kill him, I'm going to be one hot commodity. Of course, I would've preferred he used a different canvass." The cuts on my stomach are still stinging and bleeding. Stephan walks over and traces the outline of my new rose with his finger. I wince at the pain it causes, which seems to please him as his smile grows at my discomfort. He brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks my blood off his finger. My stomach turns at the pleasure this brings him. He places his hands on my waist and runs his hands up and down my sides as he looks over my body. I don't like the look in his eyes as he does this. I've never been a particularly shy person, but I want nothing more than to hide right now.
"You're very beautiful, Rose. And I'm thirsty." Not good. I have to swallow down the bile rising in my throat as I think about what he wants to do to me. He looks back over his shoulder to two goons he brought with him I didn't even see come in. They proceed to unlock the shackles on my wrists and ankles. I instantly start to shake my arms and legs out. They were so stiff from being locked in one place for so long. I see the cell door is sitting open and I ponder quickly if I should make a run for it. Before I can talk myself out of it, I take off as fast as my rubbery legs will take me. Unfortunately I don't get very far when I feel strong cold arms grab me by the waist and pull me back into the room. I struggle as hard as I can to get loose. I kick and stomp and hit and throw my head back, hitting my captor in the nose. Whoever is holding me lets his grip loosen up enough for me to slide out and start running again. I can hear Stephan shouting something, but I'm not listening.
I have no idea where I'm going. All I know is that my body is tired, but the adrenaline is pushing me pretty good. Heavy footsteps are following me and the panick rising inside me is helping me run faster. I run down the maze of hallways, not knowing if I'm getting anywhere. For all I know, I'm running in circles. My heart is beating out of my chest and my breathing is labored. I find some stairs that only go up. I'm not sure what floor I'm on, just that I haven't seen a window down here at all, so I assume I'm underground. I take the steps two at a time until I get to the next floor. I open the first door I see and run down the hall.
Suddenly, I hear a loud crash, and I see and feel glass shatter everywhere. I fall to the ground and try to cover myself with my arms as best I can. When glass stops raining down on me, I look to see that all the windows have exploded. There is glass everywhere, and me in the middle with no shoes on. Well, shit! At least with the dirty windows gone, the sunshine is spilling in. I don't have to worry about Stephan or his followers getting to me at the moment. I wonder what in the world caused this mess. I stand up in the center of millions of shards of glass, not knowing exactly how to get across to the next door without cutting my feet to shreds. The best solution I can come up with is to use my shirt like a broom and sweep the glass away as I walk. It takes me a while to get to the end of the hall to the other big iron door. My feet are all cut up and bleeding pretty good dispite trying to brush the glass away. I peek out the little window and see another door about ten feet away. I rest my head against the cool metal, trying to clear my head. My whole body aches right now and I really just want to find a bed and go to sleep.
I pull the door open and run to the other and open it too. The room is dark and cold. I carefully walk forward, hands in front to warn me if I'm about to hit something. The nausea that has been a constant since my recapture yesterday suddenly got worse. Okay, this is not where I want to be. I quickly turn to go back to the glass room because at least is was filled with sunshine, when someone grabs my by the throat, choking me.
"You thought you could get away that easily, did you?" Stephan hisses in my ear. "Just because the cavalry is here, doesn't mean they're going to save you." Huh? What cavalry? Then it hits me. Adrian. He figured out the message and came to save me. Tears spill down my cheeks thinking about how close he is. I want to look into his loving eyes again and feel his arms around me. Stephan tightens his grip, bringing me out of my thoughts and back to him. "Hmm, history repeating itself. I wonder how I should kill the both of you this time. I don't want to get predictable. Where's the fun in that?" Oh shit!
Sorry to just end it there, but it's late. I'll have the rest of the rescue mission up as soon as I can. Thanks for reading and don't forget to review and tell me how I'm doing.