I'm back! Wrote another chapter today. Is it bad that I'm trying to get past these parts fast so I can get to writing the smut? I'm quite excited for the hotness. Let me know what you think! Leave me a comment! 3
I didn't know what was worse: being beaten by a group of strangers or sitting alone in an unfamiliar room trying to decide if the story some thug had told me was true. Jace obviously kept secrets from me; I had my own secrets that I never dared to tell even him. But Jace? The leader of a gang? It had to be a lie.
Why, then, was it the perfect explanation for Jace's behavior? Ditching out on me and family gatherings. Rarely going out in public with me. Never speaking about his job or social life. His 'friends' that always seemed to be lurking nearby.
I tried to picture my brother as a blonde version of Raphael, blood smeared on his tanned skin as he stood over a huddled figure, knife in hand. The image was wrong, blasphemous. I couldn't recall ever seeing Jace get violent. He never even raised his voice. How could my captors and I be talking about the same person?
The lock on the door clicked and it swung open. The dark-haired man —what was his name? Magnus?— entered, his yellow eyes fixed on me. Raphael glared at me through the doorway before swinging the door shut. I let out a soft breath. Magnus was potentially dangerous, but I felt safer with him than I did with Raphael.
Magnus paced the room for a long while. His staring made me uncomfortable. I squirmed under his scrutiny and wrapped my arms around my legs. It was all I could do not to bury my face and hide from him. He finally stopped and crouched in front of me, inspecting my face. His hand reached out and I automatically flinched away from him, expecting pain.
Magnus quirked an eyebrow, but he kept his hand still. "Relax," he said stiffly.
I quivered as he pressed his fingertips to my cheek and turned my head slightly. His eyes trailed the cut framing the side of my face.
"I don't think it needs stitches," he said. His fingers fell away and he sat back on his heels, watching me with cat-like curiosity. "What's your name?"
My teeth chattered as I stared at him.
Magnus frowned. "Should I call Raphael and ask him?"
"No, no, no," I said hastily. "It's Alexander."
"Alexander," he repeated, testing out my name.
Something stirred in the pit of my belly. The way he said my name...the way the x rolled off his tongue...It was almost...alluring.
Suddenly I wanted to throw up.
"Let me explain my concerns, Alexander," Magnus began. "First, if I let you walk out of here, what's to stop you from bringing your brother and his little gang of fucks back to slaughter us? Second, let's say you never learn our location. You go home, but then you blab to Jace about being abducted by some guys named Magnus and Raphael. Even though I let you go, chances are Jace won't be too forgiving about me snatching up his brother.
"So where does that leave us?" Magnus held up two fingers. "The way I see it, we've got two options: One, I kill you here and now. We deal with Jace if he ever finds out it was us. Two, I let you go after you swear to me that you will never tell your brother what happened. But, of course, what's to stop you from lying to me?"
"I won't lie," I whispered.
The corner of Magnus's mouth curved upward. "I hope not. If I let you go, Alexander, we'll be watching you. The minute you open your mouth about this, you're gone. Not a word to anyone. Not the police, not your friends, not your family."
I wanted to assure him there was nothing to worry about. Cops made me nervous, I had no friends, and I tried to avoid my family at all costs. Except for Jace. But the last thing I wanted to do was bring this up to my brother, not when it meant endangering both our lives.
I gave a shaky nod. "I won't tell anyone."
"I'd hate to kill you."
"I won't tell anyone. I swear."
Magnus lowered his voice. "I don't know why I trust you, Alexander Lightwood. But I do."
There it was again. A stirring in the deepest regions of my body. The intensity of his stare boiled the frozen shards prickling in my veins. There was a hunger in his eyes, but I couldn't be sure if it was blood-lust. I swallowed. My heart was beating wildly. Did that have to do with my prospective murderer staring me in the face? Or was it...something else?
Magnus straightened abruptly and walked over to the door. He left the room and said something too quietly for me to hear. When he returned, he was holding my jacket and backpack in his hands. He dropped my backpack down beside me but held the jacket out to me. I timidly reached up and took it from him, gratefully sliding it on and zipping it up to my throat. I had just pushed myself to my feet and slipped on my backpack when Raphael and two others entered the room. I tensed as Magnus reached into his pocket.
"Take it easy," he said, withdrawing a long piece of cloth. "Just a precaution. Turn around."
I hesitated. Many prisoners were blindfolded before they were executed. What was stopping these men from pulling a gun on me?
Magnus pushed me roughly so I was facing the other direction. My breath came in shallow pants as he placed the material over my eyes and knotted it at the back of my head. The cloth was dark, and tied so tightly I couldn't see anything. Not the floor. Not a speck of light. Simply darkness.
"What's your address?"
It took me a moment to find the answer in my clouded mind. My voice quavered as I whispered the address. Every nerve in my body snapped to high alert when Magnus stepped closer behind me. I could feel his breath on my ear, could almost feel his lips.
"We'll be watching you."
Someone grabbed my elbow and I found myself stumbling around blindly. No one said a word, nor were there any noises to be heard. Eventually I was led up a staircase, where I tripped more than once. A door creaked as it opened and I could faintly hear the familiar sounds of distant traffic. A hand rested on my head and I was guided into what I guessed was the backseat of a car. I felt shoulders brushing on either side of me.
The drive was long, confusing, and intimidating. I had a feeling they were throwing in extra turns to confuse my sense of direction. Finally the car pulled to a stop and I heard a door open. The blindfold was ripped from my eyes and I blinked through the unyielding afternoon sunlight. My apartment waited for me just outside the open car door.
Before I could slide out, the guy sitting on my left grabbed my wrist, none too gently. I turned and realized with a jolt it was Raphael sitting next to me. He glared at me, his eyes fierce. He lifted his jacket just as he'd done before, but instead of finding a concealed knife, I was staring down at a half-hidden gun.
"We'll be watching you," he hissed.
I slid out of the car with as much composure as I could manage. I ignored the other man standing by the open car door and headed for the apartment's entrance. Before I got inside, I chanced a glance over my shoulder in time to see the car merge back into traffic. Even when it disappeared down the road I did not feel safe.
The short distance up to my apartment was a blur. All I could remember was getting inside, slamming the door behind me, and locking the deadbolt, doorknob, and chain. Even then there was no sense of security. I tore off my backpack and rummaged through it until I found my phone. How it did not break in the tight grip of my hand I did not know.
Hours passed before I managed to peel my eyes away from the door. I located a first aid kit and found some butterfly bandages inside, which I used on my cut. My other cheek and eye were still swollen, but not as badly as I'd thought. Nothing a little ice couldn't fix.
After I'd locked the bathroom door and placed my cell phone in a water-free zone within arm's reach, I stepped under the cascade of steaming water. My muscles tensed in protest under the water's pressure before slowly relaxing. I could not see the damage on my back, but there were only a couple bruises on my ribs, which I was thankful for. Nothing appeared to be broken and I was alive. Definite bonuses.
Showered and clad in a fresh t-shirt and sweats, I grabbed a bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer and pressed it against the swollen half of my face. When they had thawed, I placed them back in the freezer and made an attempt at doing my homework. But pretending nothing had happened in the past few hours was impossible. My shaking hand made my writing illegible, and I couldn't concentrate while glancing up at the door every two minutes.
As the night progressed, my anxiety intensified. Nothing could distract me from my fear. Not the TV. Not my homework. Not the Internet. It was into the early hours of the morning before I convinced myself to climb into bed. I locked my bedroom door for good measure and climbed under the covers, cell phone still in my hand. When I switched off the lamp, I had to bite back a cry of fear. The swell of darkness reminded me of the blindfold, and the shadows in the darkness brought back the feeling of being surrounded, of being smothered. I sat up and turned the lamp back on, breathing hard.
For the first time in many years, I slept with the light on.
The alarm blaring beside me nearly made me fall out of bed. I pushed down my rising panic and stared at the time. My class started in a couple hours. I debated skipping out, but I knew that missing classes would only raise questions. After all, I never missed class. Ignoring my all-over aching and exhaustion, I put on some clean clothes and got ready. Before I left, I grabbed the Swiss Army knife tucked in my nightstand and slid it into my pocket.
The walk to the bus stop made me appreciate being surrounded by people. I made sure I was always in the middle of a cluster of pedestrians. A few people cast disturbed looks in my direction when I kept looking around on the bus, but for once I didn't care what they thought about me. If looking like a schizophrenic was what it took to calm my nerves, I was happy to do so.
The university was better. I could count on the halls being crowded, and I doubted that any of Magnus's guys would follow me inside. Classes were easier than my free periods, but being at school made me feel more at ease than being at home. People were paying more attention to me today. The sight of my face must have alarmed them, but no one said a thing. It felt nice to have extra eyes on me...eyes that did not intend to do my any harm.
After my last class of the day, I made a bee-line straight for the bus stop. The bus, however, chose the perfect day to be running behind schedule. My stomach dropped when it was not parked outside the university, nor was it driving towards the stop. Some students were waiting for it, too, so I wandered over to join them.
As I was waiting silently, I got that feeling in my stomach. The back of my neck tingled. I turned but there was no one behind me. It felt as though someone was watching me. Despite the warmth of the day, I could feel sweat breaking out on my forehead. I looked to my right.
There he was. Not twenty feet away. Magnus was standing on the sidewalk staring straight at me. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his head was cocked slightly to the side. Even from a distance I could see the faint curve of a smile on his lips. He ever so slightly inclined his head, his eyes unblinking.
I jumped when the bus came to a stop in front of me. I pulled my eyes away from Magnus and clambered on, seating myself on the far side. My eyes were on the floor when the bus pulled away, but I felt Magnus's gaze on me as it drove by him.
I was a paranoid mess on the walk from the bus stop to the apartment. Every alley I walked by had me tightening my grip on my knife. But I made it back to my apartment unscathed and unchallenged. As I had the night before, I triple-locked the door and backed away from it.
I crumpled to the floor, sucking in ragged breaths. My cut stung as tears streaked down my face. I tucked my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them as I sobbed.
Of course I was scared for my life, and frightened by what had happened to me. But that wasn't what terrified me.
No.
What terrified me was seeing Magnus, himself, outside the university. It wasn't the lethalness I associated with him. What terrified me was that all I could notice was the broadness of his shoulders, his slender hips, his dark hair, and tantalizing eyes. What terrified me was that I wanted him.