Captive

5 // Settled Dust

I watched from my cliff hideout one last time as the grey waves licked the coast. I was never a mentally ill person, which comes as a surprise seeing as I'm an artist, but I would have been lying if I said that taking one last step off the safety of that cliff hadn't crossed my mind. The tortured soul of an artist is tricky, at best.

"The car is here," Alessia mumbled as she emerged through the trees.

"See you never, sweet outdoors," I said softly.

"He'll let you go outside, drama queen," she rolled her eyes. As the last of my bags were loaded into the back of the car by the driver, I turned one last time towards my best friend. "Please, ask him if I can come stay. I begged Ace, but he said it's not his place."

"Someone has to watch my studio for me until I return."

Silence fell between us because we both knew I wasn't going to return. Not anytime soon, anyway. She pulled me into one last embrace, and I ducked behind the tinted windows of the car.

Although I was hoping for the luck of avoiding Damien for the day, of course he was perched right on the front steps of the Royal Home to greet me that morning. For the sake of those admiring from the street, I let him pull me into a tight embrace.

"Hello, love."

"Hi," I murmured as I turned to the driver, who was opening the trunk.

"You pack light," he observed.

"I had to leave my studio behind, there wasn't much to bring," I kept my eyes trained on my feet.

"You're an artist?" He inquired, trying to inch on the conversation. All I did was nod and tuck my hair behind my ear. "We'll get a new studio set up for you within the weekend," he promised as he looped his arm around my waist once more. He guided me in through the grand doors, and I couldn't stand how stiff and cold the Royal Home seemed compared to my tiny cottage.

I got the grand tour, his office, the kitchen, the library, and we were heading toward my room. Something told me he only gave me my own room because of Ace, but I would remember to thank him for that. In the midst of our tour, I spotted Ace heading down the hall towards us.

"Ace!" I nearly squealed in delight as I rushed from Damien's side to hug him. That familiar growl was heard in the background, but I did all I could to ignore it.

"Have you been enjoying your tour?" He beamed back at me.

"Yeah, it just feels good to see you. Alessia was so sad that I had to leave her this morning."

"She's staying by herself?" His smile dropped.

"Uh, yeah..." I played with my hair nervously. Before he could say another word, Damien interjected.

"She can come, Ace."

With a grateful smile, Ace left to go call Alessia and tell her the good news.

"Why did you do it?"

"I know what it's like to want your mate beside you at all times, I don't know how he does it," he mumbled, taking my hand in his. I pulled my hand away, rubbing my arm uncomfortably. He simply let out a defeated sigh.

This boy was a mystery. One second he was pinning me against a wall calling me an object, and the next he was a schoolboy trying to hold my hand in public. Without another word, he opened the door that led to my room. I looked at the room across from me hesitantly.

"That room is mine, we have a connected bathroom."

"Comforting," I muttered to myself.

"I'll leave you to get settled in, but you can come over whenever you are ready."

I froze.

"Ready?" the color began to drain from my face.

"We need to have a little talk, Kitten." His voice grew husky and before I knew it, he was out of sight. Kitten? If anyone is the animal in this relationship, it's him. I turned from the door and my jaw nearly dropped at the sight before me. He must have asked me if I was an artist out of politeness, because the man knew. It was a studio and a bedroom, all combined in one. The walls were a soft grey, lined with work from master painters. Easels, drafting tables littered the right corner, and shelves of paint were hung on the wall. My bed was centered on the back wall, giving me a small library on the left side of the room. This room was monstrous, I doubted I would ever leave it.

The pit in my stomach grew as I came to realize that was perhaps what Damien wanted the whole time. Swallowing my pride, I decided to rip out his "talk" like a band-aid. Knocking softly on his bedroom door, he grumbled a 'come in'.

"What do we need to talk about, exactly?"

He was perched on the edge of his bed, his elbows rested on his knees as his fingers laced with one another.

"How this is going to work." His eyes flickered up to me as I came around, and I couldn't take but take a small breath in. His eyes were truly something else. I stayed silent as I dipped the bed slightly, sitting beside him. "I will be as patient as I can in marking you, Cy, but there are conditions to that. You cannot do so much as walk to the kitchen without me."

"Your Majest--"

"Damien," he growled. He turned to me and gripped my chin once more. "You're my equal."

I couldn't help but gasp at that. Even though the words sent butterflies through my stomach, I knew it wasn't true. I was still human. He could still tear me apart with his bare hands. I still had to be careful. I still had to tiptoe on broken glass around him. That's what Beta Lyon meant when he said I could balance Damien out.

"How did you know?" I mumbled, scraping at the nail polish on my hands.

"Know what?" He furrowed his brow.

"The studio, in my room," I looked up at him as I finally met his stone gaze. "How did you know I was an artist? You pretended you didn't know outside today."

"It was a surprise," he shrugged.

"Ace,"

"He's a faithful informant, what can I say," he smirked a little at his crafty move. The door opened swiftly and I saw Beta Lyon in the door frame. His eyes lit up at the sight of me, or rather the sight of me and his best friend together. On his bed. Alone.

"Am I interrupting something, kids?" He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

"What do you want, Ly," Damien growled.

"I should get back to unpacking, I'll leave you two," I mumbled, trying to find a way out of this. Before I could get far, Damien's arm snaked around my waist.

"What do you want, Ly," he reiterated.

"Um, it can wait," his eyes flickered to me worriedly and he ducked out without another word.

"Always wasting my time," Damien muttered, turning his attention back to me. "Why are you in such a rush to leave?"

I looked to the ground, not answering. He was back to his wall-pinning self, because before I knew it I felt cool drywall against my back with my arms pinned at my sides.

"I should get back to unpacking." I looked longingly back at the door. He gripped my jaw and made my eyes lock with his.

"Why are you always in such a rush to leave, mi amore?" An accent I didn't notice he ever had dripped from his lips. "No matter, you can tell me at dinner tonight."

"Dinner?" I squeaked.

"7 o'clock, dear. Wear something ravishing."