Chapter 79: Life and Death-1

She'd always thought of life and death as opponents. Foes that had been at war since the beginning of time. Fighting over souls for centuries. She believed they were separate. Polar opposites that could not exist together. That there was either life or there was death. She thinks that is why she was so angry with the immortals for killing the boy. They had robbed him of life. Enid is thinking of this as she paces the floorboards, moonlight liquid beneath her bare feet. Life. Death. The clanking of her chain annunciating each step she takes. Her thoughts are nearly too loud for her to hear the squeak of the door swinging open. For a short moment, she thinks it is them. It had only been four days since her conversation with Almalfi, but maybe he had been able to put things into motion quicker than he thought. Something unknots in her chest, relief soothing through her veins like cool water. The smile burns to ash on her face as she takes in Flynt's form. Hope sinks, curdling in her stomach. "I could hear your jingling from down the hall." His smirk is vicious. Enid steps back as he enters the room, feeling the mattress press against her legs. His icy eyes study her casually. "Are you upset?" There is raw curiosity in his gaze. She isn't sure whether to laugh or scream or cry. All she can do is stare at him, a look of disbelief alight on her face. Flynt rolls his eyes as the silence stretches on, an annoyed sigh leaving him. "Are you displeased with your accommodations? I have given you a nice room, food, a shower, fresh clothes. Really, one might expect some gratitude." Flynt drawls. A dare in his eyes. Her hackles raise at the challenge. Fiery anger prickling underneath her skin. "You kidnapped me, threatened my friends, and are trying to kill the men I love. So, yes, I think I'm rather displeased with my accommodations!" Her voice rising as she yells at him. Flynt smiles with twisted amusement as she glares at him. Taking another step forward, he fiddles with the cufflinks of his shirt. Enid moves back further on the small bed, crawling backward until her back met the wall. "Strange how you refer to them as the men you love. Present tense. Last I checked you were running away from them when I found you." He muses, leaning against the post of the bed. She hadn't noticed the truth of what she said until the syllables had already been formed. Love. Present tense. Her glower deepens as he chuckles. "You know, it's really such a shame that you cut your hair. I much preferred it long. It was more tamed then. Less wild." He continues, studying the way her curls brush against her neck. His eyes dip lower, languid as they run along her collarbones. Hunger in the curve of his lip. She folds under his gaze, trying to become so small that she might just disappear. There is no where left for her to go as he takes a final step toward her. His hand reaching out to tug on one of her curls. Enid tries to hide the way her body quivers with anxiety. Keeping her eyes firmly on the blanket beneath her. A finger drags along her cheek, over the bruise he had put there a few days before. His breath brushes against her arms as he leans down toward her, goosebumps erupting across the flesh. Terror stealing her breath. Fragments of a memory of tree bark and smoke and another pair of unwelcome hands. "Please stop." Her plea is frantic as one of his hands falls to her thigh. She is grateful that she had been given pants instead of shorts or a skirt. He laughs softly, tilting her head up. Her hands are on his chest. Pushing, pushing, pushing. But he is much stronger than she is. His lips ghost across her own and she wretches her head away. Bile rising in her throat. Hyperventilating as fingers begin to toy with the hem of her shirt. "Flynt." A voice comes from the doorway and she nearly cries in relief. The man tenses, his grip on her tightening before releasing. She has never been so happy to see Armad Almalfi before in her life. Flynt steps forward, blocking the burly man from her view. "You're needed downstairs. Something about a trespasser." His Slavic voice is like music to her ears. She barely notices as Flynt curses, storming from the room. Shaking hands pressing against her mouth as she tries to erase the feeling of his lips on hers. Almalfi stares at her from the doorway, sorrow and guilt in his eyes. "The plan is set for tomorrow. Just hang on a little longer, little girl." He shuts the door behind him and for once she is thankful for the sound of the lock. She does not sleep that night. The meager contents of her stomach emptied into the toilet as the memory of his head lowering toward her loops in her mind. It is all she can do to pull herself up from the tile floor. Standing for a few hours under the spray of the shower, she washes the memory of his hands away until her skin is red. Nothing makes her feel clean. In the morning, she eats the apple from the tray that was delivered. Anticipation makes her restless, desperately hoping that Almalfi carries out their plan correctly. She paces the room. Thinking of life. Of death. Anything but the feeling of his mouth. It is nearly evening when he enters her room again. He is different somehow, his expression a little looser. More manic. His gestures more dramatic. She realizes why when she smells the liquor on his breath. "You know, I can say a lot of bad things about the immortals. But they definitely knew what they were doing when they chose you." His words are slightly slurred as he ambles toward her. Warily, she steps toward the window. Sober Flynt was already difficult to handle. Him being drunk was an added dangerous variable. She prays that the immortals get there soon. Gulping another large mouthful from the crystal glass in his hand, he suddenly snaps his fingers. "I've never given you a tour of the mansion! My, what a rude host I am." He sets his glass down on the desk. A gasp leaves her as he pulls a key from his pocket. Her heart in her throat, she lifts her manacled ankle toward him. Hoping upon hope that he doesn't change his mind. His eyebrows furrow at her action before a loud laugh leaves him. "Oh, no, little mouse. I'm still keeping you on your leash." He shakes his head in amusement as he unlocks the end tied to the bed. The look on his face is like that of a spoiled child as he tugs her out of the room. Enid nearly trips as he traipses along in front of her, forcing her to scurry to keep the chain from yanking her leg. "This is the fourth drawing room… Here's another guest bedroom…" She can barely focus on the rooms they pass as she tries to keep up with him. Her eyes search desperately for help, but the corridor is vacant. The door at the end of the hallway is different from the others they have passed. Something sinister in the darkness of the wood. "And this… is my room." He halts before it and she stops just short of running into him. Enid tenses as he looks at her with hooded eyelids. "I, um- I think I want to go back to my room." She steps back as far as the shackle will let her. Flynt's lips press into a displeased line before he turns around. Her fate seems doomed as the door swings open. Just like the rooms she had caught small glimpses of, the room is extremely opulent. Modern, expensive furniture fills the spacious area.