Chapter 17 Chapter Seventeen
At the mention of dinner, my stomach growled something fierce, and I held my side, rubbing at it as if that alone would be enough to sedate the hunger I felt, but instead, it only growled louder.
“Why am I so hungry?” I muttered, brows knitted together as I turned to the grand-looking grandfather clock that sat tucked in one corner of the room. “6pm.”
It’s been barely three hours since I last had something to eat and thanks to the Demon, I had sufficient muffins and tea to feel up on. But I suppose after being in a state of coma for almost an entire week, muffins would barely be enough to feed me up.
My stomach growled again as if to confirm my own thoughts, and I sighed.
“I hope dinner does us justice.”
There wasn’t much I could do for myself anyway, because after peaking to Miridath, I suddenly felt like I understood my situation a bit better. Covenant City was well out of my jurisdiction right now. Even if I wanted to escape by myself, the elderly woman said I was in werewolf territory. And if I knew anything about werewolves, they were solitary creatures, which would explain why Miridath gave me an odd look when I asked her about Covenant City.
A not-so-familiar sense of hopelessness crept up on me again as I thought about it. My only hope now was those strange men…
“Ugh.” I combed my fingers through my hair, feeling a bit irritated by my inability to come up with a proper plan.
I dragged my feet back to the center of the room and just…stood there for a moment before letting out a breath I didn’t even realize I had been holding in.
Then my gaze drifted and for the first time since I woke up, I realized I’ve been so desperate for answers and a way out of here that I hadn’t really given myself a second to actually appreciate my situation.
For one, I could be lying dead in that forest, torn up and eaten by the wild beast that might roam around those areas, or even worse that man, Barron, could have found me and dealt me a fate far worse than death itself.
And instead of that wretched prison cell that could drain a man and turn him into a husk, here, I woke up in soft sheets, Soft furs layered the floor beneath my feet, warm and thick. My wounds have been taken care of to the point that I can barely feel subtle pangs every so often. There was warmth in here, I had clean clothes and food. Even if I still had no idea what kind of people occupied this place, I was safe. Or at least I hoped to god that I was and this wasn’t some sick form of imprisonment.
Still, even if this place wasn’t anything like a prison, it wasn’t exactly a sanctuary either.
It felt like I was standing in someone else’s space and that’s what really made me anxious being here.
My gaze wandered again until they eventually stopped in front of a tall mirror tucked against the far wall. Something called me towards it, and before I could stop myself I was standing in front of the thing, then frowned when the woman in it stared back at me with the same frown.
Pale skin that was almost as white as chalk. Sunken eyes and hallowed cheek bones. Raven's black hair longer than the last time it was cut. When was the last time I cut it? A week ago? Or maybe two?
I thought to myself as I took a strand between my fingers when a sudden shearing headache made me hiss as I tried to recall those meager details.
I looked more or less like a corpse! No wonder Aquila looked so surprised when I’d woken up, like he wasn’t expecting me to make it by another day or two. That thought made my stomach drop to my feet.
But the most alarming part of my appearance was the bandages wrapped around my arms, legs and head. Had my injuries been that sever? Another flash of headache. It was like my memories didn’t want me to remember them and whenever I tried, they pushed back.
“I look like a damn gift box.” I muttered, inspecting my arm, curiously picking at the bandages. Surely these wounds should have healed by now, right?
“Damn it.” I hissed when I couldn’t find an edge. I glanced back at the mirror again. The oversized shirt hung off my frame like it was wearing me and not the other way round.
And for some reason, a strange heat crept up my neck when I thought about who it actually belonged to.
Asher.
The thought was unbidden and I immediately tried to push it away. But it made sense, didn’t it? The man was…well built--broad shoulders, tall frame, a tuft of copper brown hair on his head…
Aquila was lean--strong, and sharp in a different way-- but Asher…
It made you wonder what kind of face could be hidden behind that mask when the owner had a body like that. Even covered in blood and dirt, the man had a strange pull that annoyed me without reason. Maybe it was because of the way he refused to acknowledge me like I wasn’t worth his time.
Just thinking about the way he just barely gave me his attention before scurrying off irritated me.
Yet, here I was, wearing his shirt that smelled so nice. Even after I’d sweat in it, his own scent was strong. Dominating like his presence.
“Stop it, Crystal,” I muttered to myself. “This is hardly the time or place for such thoughts.”
But my traitorous brain wasn’t letting this one slide, because now I was stuck thinking about that mysterious man.
My stomach growled again, so loud this time it echoed.
“Right. Dinner.”
Thirty minutes suddenly felt like an eternity and standing here staring at my reflection in borrowed clothes wasn’t going to make time pass any faster for me, or at the very least, I certainly wasn’t going down wearing this.