Chapter 35: Chapter Thirty-Five

"What do you mean, he doesn't deserve me?" I asked, trying to keep my heart rate from spiking. I didn't want to give him any reason to think what he said excited me, when in actuality it terrified me. I was surprised when I wasn't getting aroused from the fear like I normally would. Maybe I was only aroused when I knew Damien was there to protect me? But now that Sinclair had taken me from him, the fear was everything but sexually stimulating.

"I mean what I've said. From the time we spent together, I know you are a human unlike any other. You care for others, and not for your own personal gain. Lucifer, on the other hand, made his fortune on the graves of millions." he responded, taking one of my legs in his hands.

I tried to pull my leg back from him, but he would not release it as he slowly began massaging my calves, trying to bring feeling back into them.

"No offense, Sinclair, but how are you any better than Damien?"

He looked at me, his eyes showing his anger as he put down my leg, and began massaging the other one. I waited for his response, but received none as he shook his head.

After a few minutes of silence, he stood, then took my hand. "How do your legs feel?" He asked as he helped me stand up, and held me as I took a few steps around.

"Better. Thank you." I said absentmindedly, then sat back down on the makeshift bed. I was racking my brain trying to figure out what I had done to give Sinclair the impression that a relationship was possible between the two of us. But all I did was bring him blood and converse with him. Is that really enough to have done all of this damage? Maybe because I spoke with him about the relationship issues I was having with Damien? No, that cant be it. That is obviously a friend zone thing to talk about. But wait, he's over 360 years old. Maybe those conversations meant something different in the 1600s?

"I can see the gears going into overdrive behind those eyes of yours. What are you pondering so profoundly that has you so worked up?" Sinclair asked me, his voice snapping me out of my head. It wasn't until then that I noticed he had sat right next to me, his face only inches from mine. His eyes searching mine like he could read my thoughts.

"The truth?" I asked, scooting over to put distance between us.

"Preferably." He responded with a chuckle as he leaned back, keeping his eyes locked on me.

"I was trying to figure out what I said or did, to encourage this... fondness you've expressed towards me." When I said this, Sinclair didn't respond at first, he just watched me as if trying to figure out if I was telling a joke or not. When he realized I was being serious, his eyes narrowed.

"You suppose it is something you have said, that caused this feeling?" He asked, standing up with a snarl, looking down at me like I'd insulted him. I watched as he laughed, his husky voice filled with mock amusement as he began pacing, shaking his head in disbelief. "You humans are so single-minded and arrogant." he said, taking the rope and wrapping it around my wrists before he tossed me into one of the stalls. I whimpered in pain as he tied the rope to the bars in the stall, making it impossible for me to do anything but stand.

I tried to free my hands, but it seemed like the more I struggled, the tighter the rope became. It wasn't long until my wrists were raw, and started bleeding from the friction.

Sinclair stopped pacing when he smelled my blood and walked up to me, untying the rope with one hand, while the other snaked around my waist. In one swift movement, he threw me down on the pile of hay, and forced himself between my legs. "Do you think Lucifer will still want you, after another man has had you?" He growled in my ear as he pushed my dress up, exposing me to his hungry eyes. "He is a very territorial man, Bast." He said with a smile, his eyes no longer bright gold, but now darkened into an amber shade. His anger and the smell of my blood was bringing out the animal in him, forcing him to lose control of himself.

It wasn't until now that I understood even recreants have different modes, just like a regular vampire. Non recreants have regular, innate, and then recreant. But recreants can either be in control, or completely out of control. This is one of those times when Sinclair had no control over himself.

"No!" I screamed, fighting against him. As I fought, all I managed to do was excite him more. He watched me in utter delight, making me realize my struggle was giving him some sort of sick thrill. This made me remember something Damien said about recreants; The only thing a recreant loves more than the kill, is the hunt. The more the prey fights, the more pleasure they receive. I did the one thing my brain was telling me not to do; I stopped fighting him.

Sinclair was surprised when I stopped struggling and looked down at me, inquisitively. A few seconds later he laughed aloud, recognizing why I'd stopped fighting. His eyes slowly returned to their normal gold, showing he'd regained control. "He taught you about recreants." He said somberly with a nod, "Almost like he knew you would find me in the basement, and orchestrate my escape, whether you meant to or not." He said, slowly licking the blood off of my wrists and healing the wounds. "I apologize, from the depths of my heart, Bast."

I started to respond, but couldn't as I didn't know what to say. Could Damien really have guessed that I would find Sinclair, and unknowingly help him escape? And if he did, why would he allow that to happen?

"Wait, how did you get out of your cage?" I asked him, realizing that he'd just opened the door and walked out. If the cage was unlocked, why didn't he leave before?

"I used a candle to heat the razor handle, let it harden in the lock." He said, shrugging as if it was obvious. "I wouldn't have gotten off the property if I didn't have you."

"Is that why you told me to make up with Damien? So there was no doubt he would let you leave?" I asked him, already knowing the answer. If one thing was obvious, that was it.

"Why do you feel the need to ask a question you know the answer to?" he asked me softly, his eyes filled with sadness. There was no question about it now, the sadness is unmistakable in his eyes as he held my wrists, looking at the burn from the ropes. He could heal the wound, but the marks would heal in their own time.

"Sinclair?" I mumbled, slowly leaning into him, trying to make him look at me. I couldn't stand to see him so upset, and wanted to make him feel better. I waited until he finally locked eyes with me, before I brought my lips to his.