Awakening Rielle (2 page)

"So it's true then?" she gasped, her thoughts escaping through her lips without her mind's consent. His touch retreated but she was still frozen in her place, rooted to the wooden floor beneath her well-traveled shoes. She could feel his attention - eyes and thoughts both - on her, considering her, and her cheeks and chin burned where his hand had grabbed.

The man clasped his arms at his backside and walked several paces toward a large set of windows on the opposite end of the room. He didn't speak a word. Rielle watched as he observed beyond the view of the window, his head tilted back to look up, rather than forward to look down.

When he finally spoke, his voice was no louder than a whisper, but clearer than a cloudless sky. "The course of action a human will take in the pursuit of a perceived truth - no more than a system of belief, really - never fails to surprise me." He turned and looked at her pointedly, shrewdly even. "You've come here to offer your purity-"

"Not offer," she interrupted, pointing a finger indiscriminately at him. "Sell or exchange. Not give away."

"-not knowing for certain what you could get for it," he continued, ignoring her interruption entirely. "And you operate under the assumption that The Immortal would want it to begin with."

Her cheeks flamed with crimson heat. She'd fled her camp in the middle of the night armed with everything she owned and never once considered that The Immortal wouldn't
want
her chastity. Would a starving man refuse food if it weren’t to his liking? Then again if her surroundings were any indication, The Immortal was anything but starving.

If he was trying to make her feel ashamed it wouldn't work. She wasn't immune to embarrassment; after all she was only human. But she wouldn't apologize or feel wrong for doing what it took to survive, and as far as she was concerned, selling something as inconsequential to her as her virginity was a small price to pay for endurance.

Whoever this man was he seemed to be the gatekeeper for The Immortal. She decided to change tack.

"I imagine women would be less inclined to offer themselves so freely to The Immortal if he was in a less fortunate position."

His eyes gleamed triumphantly, an elongated smile spreading across his lips so slowly that she felt rather hypnotized by it. "
Rielle
." He spoke her name as if he tasted it in his mouth, each letter caressed by the thick warmth of his voice that made the word seem positively seductive.

"How did you-" Her heartbeat tripled in her chest. She hadn't given him her name.

The man closed the distance between them, stopping just to her left, his smile subdued but still present.

"You will be escorted to a room of my choosing until such time that your virtue can be substantiated."

Rielle's face screwed as her mind worked to comprehend his words. "How long will that take?"

He looked sideways at her, his eyes climbing up her body again, settling on her lips. "However long is necessary." When their eyes locked she saw his were more than just gleaming - they were practically molten.

"I told you already," she said, swallowing back a rising tide of uncertainty. "I'm pure."

He extended his hand out to her, the strap of her backpack hanging precariously in his grip. "You should use the time to carefully consider what it is you are asking to trade that purity for."

Panic trickled down her spine. Panic and, she realized, excitement. She took her bag and secured it around her shoulders, feeling a short burst of relief at having her belongings again.

"Don't worry," he said quietly. "It will not be as long in here as it will out there."

The old man appeared again and escorted Rielle from the library to the grand staircase where they climbed up
,
then down a long twisting hallway, and finally to another impossibly big door. He left her in silence, never once making a sound other than the odd grunt or breath. Even his footsteps retreated in near silence. Alone, and not knowing what else to do, Rielle opened the door and took a cautious look inside.

Logs of wood were set ablaze in a fireplace, emitting an occasional crackling as the firelight bathed cream-colored walls in cozy warmth. Diaphanous streams of white fabric cascaded down from an ornate iron medallion mounted to the ceiling, falling to the corners of a large bed.

She could only just remember the last time she had seen an actual bed, let alone slept in one. She approached it as though it were a sleeping animal, her footsteps padding quietly against the wooden floor. Her fingers splayed out as they brushed against the feathery top, fluffy cotton against rough skin that had nearly forgotten what softness felt like.

The rest of the room was sparsely furnished, nothing more than a wardrobe, an old mirror and an overstuffed chair, and sconces lit with candles spaced equidistant around the room to compliment the firelight.

A sigh escaped through her lips. Her shoulders sagged in momentary relief. The climb up the stone steps of the mountain was worth it for just five minutes of contented leisure. She shrugged off the backpack and set it down on the edge of the bed before climbing on, nearly losing her balance in the deluxe plush.

A long time before her home was a torn sleeping bag in a camp, she slept in a bedroom that had once belonged to a child. The house itself was abandoned and taken over by the homeless and refugees. The bed was small, the springs inside expired so that they bounced but sank, providing almost no support. Sharing the bed with seven other people meant she only had a reasonably comfortable night of sleep four days a month. That perfect variation was the only way she was able to keep track of time.

The moment her body relaxed into the pillowy surface of the bed she realized how much her bones ached and muscles cramped. Could she become accustomed to this? To having a room with four walls to sleep in, a bed, and a fire to keep her warm? A space she didn't have to fight for to have or to keep. If the stories were true she would gladly sell her virginity, no matter what The Immortal looked like.

Was the man from the library telling The Immortal about her right now? And exactly how was her purity to be determined? How would anyone be able to tell, apart from her word? Perhaps the test was to gauge the truthfulness in her word, to detect any degree of lie? They would find none.

Rielle's body ached less as she sank deeper, and before her thoughts could stray too far from the questions her mind asked, she was sound asleep, the world outside forgotten.

Rielle cradled her body into a tight ball to spread warmth to her cold limbs. The air that touched her exposed skin was chilled and prickly, reminding her of the nights when she had little more than a sparse blanket to cover her body with. There was nothing she hated more than the cold, for it reminded her that Death could be cruel and wholly uncaring. She could survive hunger far longer than she could cold, if she had a choice in the matter. The chill took a bite at her from the inside out and she shivered, closing in on her body as though she were the faintest of kindling in a dying fire in desperate need of stroking. It was moments like these she wished for another to join with if for no other reason than for the shared warmth two bodies could make.

She eased a long and measured breath from the sliver of an opening between her lips, imagining the breadth of a man's shoulders blocking her from the frosted air. Her imagination could closely feign the sensation of another, a single ribbon of warmth smoothing slowly across her arm, leaving behind a trail of heat so realistic she thought she might be able to touch it. She reached out with her hand and felt the heat of skin -
someone else's skin
.

Startled, Rielle bounded up and away from the source of warmth, crawling across the expanse of the bed until her back came against the soft padded surface of the tufted headboard. A woman of indeterminate age was sitting on the bed where Rielle once slept. Her eyes glowed like firelight refracting through the facets of an emerald.

"You slipped into such a deep sleep you did not take notice of the fire dying. I was merely trying to warm you, my dear." The woman's voice was like a panacea, warming Rielle from the inside out until her muscles relaxed into compliance. "There you go," she whispered. "Are you feeling better now?"

Rielle stole a glance at her backpack - untouched and in the exact spot she had placed it on the bed - before answering. "Thank you. I'm sorry, I-"

"No need, dear. I imagine one must be quick-witted out there in Raving Thistle." She brushed her fingers against the air when she said
'out there'
, as though it were of no consequence to her whatsoever. "Fortunately no harm has come to you in the three days you've slept."

Rielle's heart sank into her stomach, which she noticed in that moment was verging on riotous. "
Three days?!
" She was lucky if she ever slept a solid six hours. How could she have slipped into such a state? "How?" Had someone drugged her? The man from the library perhaps? As her mind sprinted through the possibilities she watched the woman's green eyes glaze, rolling up and into the sockets of her eyes until there was nothing but white gazing back at her. The woman blinked and the green returned, sharply focused and downcast in apparent sympathy.

"Distrusting one, aren't you? I assure you, dear, that no one has taken undue advantage of you or in any way behaved inappropriately with your person. I have no doubt your departure into sleep was fueled entirely by exhaustion and the need for bodily repair."

Rielle wanted to believe her. In fact it seemed easier to trust that she was telling the truth, but Rielle never volunteered trust for too long.

"It is a beautiful thing to witness the mind as the wheels turn and turn," the woman spoke softly, her hands coming to the sides of her head and gesticulating the very movement she spoke of. Rielle swallowed back her fear, knowing better than to let it register on her face. Though from the way the woman talked she would be able to see it regardless.

"Who are you?"

The woman regarded her silently for a moment, then stood and took a few steps, the thick garment she wore draping like a tent several feet behind her footsteps. She passed the fireplace and a flame roared to life, called into existence with the mere flick of her hand. Light followed warmth, spreading through the room, uncovering it from the cloak of darkness and revealing the frame of a man who had been standing in the corner opposite the bed. Rielle's skin prickled despite the growing intensity of the heat, pronounced even further by the sight of
his
heated brown eyes. How long had he been standing there?

"She is ready." The woman cast one final glance at Rielle, her green eyes alight like a glowing ember, before disappearing into a corner of the room untouched by the light.

The sound of rushing blood coursing through her body muffled Rielle's ears, her heart threatening to pump vigorously from within the protected cage of her ribs. The man from the library stepped silently out from his shadowy corner until his knees brushed against the bed. Fiery eyes locked her in his gaze. She was helpless to look anywhere else, only able to feel the pumping of blood pressure as it echoed throughout her body, insides pushing outside.

"Are you afraid?" Her ears were met with the deep, comforting familiarity of his voice.

"No," she answered quickly, truthfully. It wasn't fear she was feeling, but anticipation. "Is this the part where you substantiate my virtue?"

"No." He shook his head slowly, and then crossed the length of the bed until he was standing beside her, his hand outstretched to her. She took it and slid off the bed, coming to a soft landing on her feet. "This is the part where you decide whether or not you understand what it is you are offering. Your answer will determine what happens to you next."

She didn't require anything more than the soothing warmth of fire at her skin from his touch to know she was making the right decision. Even so, she still knew better than to offer anything without knowing what she would get in return.

"What will The Immortal give me in exchange for my virginity?"

"What do you
want
in exchange for your virginity?" he countered, his eyes remaining locked on hers.

"I want to live," she answered easily. "Not forever, but well. I have no desire to ever be cold or hungry again. I want stability. Resources. If The Immortal can give me that much he can do whatever he wants with my virginity. It means nothing to me in the grand scheme of things."

He searched her eyes and said nothing, gave no response to her terms. Her hand was beginning to sweat in his, the slick moisture uncomfortable and oddly drying. She'd barely realized he was still holding her hand. His eyelids had grown heavy, the brown of his eyes lightening to amber before turning back to brown quicker than the instant of a blink. He seemed to be coming out of a mental daze.

He released her hand and reached into his back pocket, producing a blindfold. "Put this on." He held it out to her expectantly.

"Why?" She was quickly losing the ability to mask the anticipatory fear in her voice.

"You think The Immortal is just going to take your virginity because you offer it? You're going to put it on, take your clothes off, and when your worth is determined you will have an offer."

Rielle bit her tongue as she grabbed for the blindfold and held it in her hand. He looked at her pointedly, expectantly. "Who are you exactly?" she asked, feeling suddenly emboldened.

The corners of the man's lips lifted into a deviant smile. "You can either undress now or later, but whatever you decide you
will
put on that blindfold."

Rielle searched his eyes, looking for something,
anything
that he might reveal about himself. The deep brown hinted that he was more than just a good-looking face, that he wasn't just some inconsequential lackey for The Immortal.

After a quick exhale of breath Rielle slipped the blindfold on over her eyes and secured the ribbons of it behind her head. Her world turned black, devoid of light save for the faintest strip of golden light around the edges that she assumed was from the fireplace. She didn't care too much for darkness, but knowing it would all be over soon was enough to keep her mind preoccupied from her fears.