65by Lady Tempest
Part 5:
Lucian ran. His mind a fog and his legs carrying him to anywhere too quickly to see more than a stumbling blur. A foot grabbed by an outstretched root brought his flight to a jarring stop. The hard ground smashed into his body, a sharp ache spreading through his bones and a wet sting on his hands and elbows. He lay in the grass gulping for breath, resting his cheek in the tickling green. Panting.
Panting? Why was he so out of breath? Why? And so tired? Lucian closed his wild eyes, trying to bring his body under control.
And why had he done that? Why had Willow done that? Why had he... ? Lucian supposed it was a... kiss? He had seen several since venturing to the outside world. Outsiders seemed to enjoy the frivolous act. And more than a few had attempted to engage him in it also, particularly in the taverns of large cities. Like any unnecessary distraction, he declined, even pushed them aside if required.
But now he knew with fiery clarity the wisdom of his refusals. The burn surging through him uncontrolled and foreign, ignited his mind, his senses, his body, to painfully pleasant distraction. And distraction brought pain, failure, death. And distraction brought darkness, as a blunt pain at the back of his head shoved him into unconsciousness.
A faint buzzing fluttered about his ears, as sharp silver light stabbed his eyes. He reached to rub his throbbing head, but his arms refused to move. He struggled only to find his legs also disobedient. A gasp fell back into his throat as it beat against a taut barrier, and his jaw ached.
"Awake so soon? " A vicious voice floated from behind him, a vaguely familiar voice. " Such stamina. Oooooh, you will be enjoyable!"
A soft caress on his shoulder, slid slowly down his back, transforming into a sharp clawing and a warm stinging tickle.
"And so beautiful."
A stroke along his hair curled, jerking his head back. A hot snarl attacked his ear. "You will pay for today, and for keeping my dear Willow from me!"
A hand slid to Lucian's pants, fondling lean, rounded muscle through the cloth. "You will more than make up for it, I think." Lucian could feel the malicious, lustful smirk like a heavy cloak dragging him to the dirt. He shuddered and Vaneau laughed.
How...why was this happening? Lucian tried to focus his mind, to draw on the inner energy that could free him from this madness. But he only found a fuzzy, grayness, hollow and empty. Empty. Hot panic tingled up the back of his neck. Gone. All of it was gone! Somehow all of his power had been spent, completely spent.
A blinding red flash seized him back to the outer world. Another flash and his mind locked to searing awareness of the physical. A stinging line of agony ran across his back, followed again and again and again by ever increasing pain. Lucian shoved the pain aside, struggling to find that place within himself that contained his power. Even just a whisper, a glimmer, anything.
His mind sliced through the fog, finding a cold place. A place of solitude, free of distraction, free of emotion. So familiar and calm, and cool. Distant from his fevering body. The burn of pain and blood screamed for his attention, slamming against the secure barrier of icy mist. Red-hot slashes tried to break his control, but he ignored them, intent on the faint pulse of strength dangerously deep within.
Lucian's fingers clawed into the tree's rough bark, blood oozing from torn fingernails. Too blue eyes clenched tightly shut, as if a barrier between harsh reality and that cold, peaceful place in his mind. His breathing slowed to the barest breath. Quiet. Cool. Calm.
A growl rumbled at the edge of the calm, and his head smashed against the tree. Again he was thrust to physical awareness, blood trickling, sticky and warm and red, down his face and dripping from golden lashes.
"How dare you try to ignore me!" Vaneau spat, his hand buried painfully in Lucian's hair. Hot moist breath beat against Lucian's bare shoulder. " Look at me!"
Lucian fought to return to the calm of within, but a sharp blow to his side blocked the way.
"I said 'Look at me'!" A tug at his scalp, as fierce as the voice, shot open his blood-tinged, ice blue eyes. Another hand slid to his cheek, soaking fingertips in wet crimson. His eyes met the twisted face of his tormentor.
"Much better, pretty thing." Vaneau brought his hand to his mouth, tongue slipping from lips curved in a demented grin and slowly licked the blood from his fingertips like he was savoring a fine wine. " Ah, so sweet. "
The hand left Lucian's hair and traced a stinging path down his torn and throbbing back, stopping at the waist of his pants.
"The rest of you must be even sweeter." Both hands grabbed hold of his pants and tugged. The black cloth fell to his knees, pale, smooth, skin silvered in the moonlight.
The ice of his eyes shattered and he couldn't fight the fear trembling through his body, all visible to predator eyes. Lucian choked on his own breath as vile hands rubbed along his now bare hips, then shoved him forward. The pain of his groin crushed against the rough tree-bark was nothing compared to the agony of the light, feathery touches violating his smooth thighs and buttocks.
Pain he understood; it was part of being a warrior. But this was a different sort of pain, a pain of the spirit and a pain he couldn't comprehend beyond the strangling blackness winding itself around his soul. He knew he had to get away. Now! No matter what it took. Roving fingers plunged within the crease of lean, rounded muscle, probing along the warm line until reaching between his slim legs and fondling his limp genitals. Lucian jerked away, even though it meant shoving harder against the tree.
Vaneau laughed. " There's no getting away, pretty one. Though your struggles are delicious."
The laughter faded from Lucian's ears as he forced himself into the cold place within.
Focus.
Focus.
A faint energy glowed and he reached out to it, drawing more of himself to feed it's power.
Focus.
A tearing ache rippled through his body. It hurt, but at least this hurt was his own and brought hope of salvation. With each surge of the ache, the glow brightened, shifting from dim purple to lightning blue.
Focus. A little more.
The energy pulsed vibrantly then flowed like liquid ice through his body, swirling into a pool of blue fire at the base of his neck.
Strength leapt into his muscles and ignoring the abrasive twist at his wrists and ankles, the ropes that bound him snapped. He spun to face his tormentor, grabbing Vaneau by the throat with one hand while ripping away the gag over his mouth with the other. Horror and surprise flung themselves from the man's eyes as piercing, blood-rimmed, ice blue froze him speechless.
"Fool!" Lucian hissed, his voice crackling with ice. " You should have killed me when you had the chance. "
Lucian stumbled back to his room, trying to avoid being seen, by anyone. His pride was as wounded and battered as the rest of him. Thankfully for his over-wearied body, the night was too deep to find many wandering in it's violet, silver light and those that did were easy enough to evade, even in his condition.
Each step shuddered a raw, jagged ache through his entire being. Every inch of him screamed in torn torture, burnt and ragged inside, feverish and bloody outside. He fell, the jarring pain through his knees quickly ignored within the rage of greater pain. Gravelly breaths tripped from his throat and he forced himself back to his feet, continuing his torturously slow journey.
Finally his goal was in sight, and he fell against the large wooden door, managing a weak knock as he slipped to the floor, unconscious.
A wooden thud dragged Willow from his tear-soaked huddle beside the bed. Then a faint knock. He crawled up to the bed and listened. No one knocked, not even the servants, and, besides, he hadn't requested anything. His deep, red eyes instinctively slid to the nightstand and the large key laying on the dark wood.
Lucian had left it! His master had left without the key. Well, fled. The key seemed to be the last thing on his mind considering the terror in those beautiful blue eyes. Willow's throat tightened as the guilt filled him once more. His jaw clenched. No! That bastard deserved nothing. And if the key was here, then he was safe from him, from everyone. Water blue eyes flickered in his mind, full of confusion, pain, terror.
"No, no, no! Go away!" he whimpered as he buried his face in his hands. " I won't feel guilty! I won't! He's just going to hurt me, like all the others. " Or worse.
No other sound came from the door. Minutes passed. Nothing. Willow lifted his head, hope and dread warring in his albino-red eyes. Could Lucian have heard him? And left? Willow slid from the bed and crept to the door, leaning an ear against it and listened. Nothing. Maybe his master had left. Or Willow was hearing things. Or...or the sick bastard was tricking him into opening the door and would beat him senseless like he planned all along! He stepped away from the door, staring at it like it was some sort of blood-thirsty monster. He wouldn't fall for it! No!
That cold, angelic face invaded his mind. Soft, golden hair, falling gently against softly angled cheeks, smelling of cool waterfalls and spring, the whole of him smelling of that refreshing coolness. And those eyes. So cold, yet a hidden warmth bubbled deep within. And that body: so perfect and beautiful and graceful. To just taste that creamy skin, savoring every lick and kiss,... would be heaven...
...No, no, no! That sick freak was worse than them all! Even Lucian's body was manipulation towards the bastard's sadistic pleasures, to catch Willow off guard, make him want and need and then destroy him with it.
"I 'm not falling for it!" Willow screamed. "I'm not, I tell you!" No response. "I'm not, I'm not, I'm not!"
He stalked to the bathroom. His skin sticky and uncomfortable from all his tears. Tears! He couldn't believe he cried over that sick, sadistic bastard!
"Moron!" Willow muttered to his reflection in the mirror, his salt-stained face staring back at him through blood-shot eyes. He splashed the cool water pouring from the faucet on his flushed skin and sighed. Sparing a glance at the door's image before him, something tugged at him, a sense of dread. He shook his head, hundreds of tiny braids slapping against his skin.
"No! I'm safe now! I'm safe!" His eyes were drawn back to the door and he turned from the mirror to the true door's true form. "But.."
He stepped hesitantly towards the door, stopped, fidgeting with his hair, then continued. Pressing his ear again to the door, something wet and sticky squished between his bare toes. Willow glanced down and noticed a dark smudge. He knelt, feeling the carpet near the crack under the door and found a damp spot that reddened his fingertips. Willow froze. Blood. Why was there blood?
Willow flung open the door and a heaviness fell against his feet. Looking down, soft gold matted with crimson tickled his skin. He stumbled backwards.
"It's a trick! It's a trick!" he stammered, scooting away from the unmoving body. Lucian was still, so still Willow couldn't tell if he was breathing. Reaching a trembling hand forward, he poked the blond head and jumped back, waiting.
Nothing.
Again he reached out, this time lingering a little longer on the soft tarnished-gold, brushing bloodied strands from the too still face.
"Master?" his voice was unsteady, uncertain. "Lucian?"
Still nothing.
He bit his lip and sighed, then gently wrapped his arms around his battered master, golden head pressed to his chest as he hauled them to their feet. A quick kick and the door slammed shut as he shuffled with his bloody burden to the bathroom.
He set the unconscious blond on the edge of the bathtub while he leaned over, holding Lucian tightly to him, and turned on the faucet. As the cool water splashed into the tub, he struggled to tug off Lucian's only clothes and settle him carefully in the cold onyx bath.
Willow yelped, his red eyes flaring, as he fully witnessed the extent of his beautiful master's injuries, and where many of them were. The blood-crusted scratches and abrasions along the man's hips and groin brought him the most horror; This was no ordinary beating. He clenched the edge of the tub, a voice in his mind growling that it served the bastard right! The sick freak would have raped him, so why shouldn't he suffer the same?
A groan whispered from the still unmoving form and Willow look up at the aqua eyes fighting to gaze past blood-gold lashes. Lucian's focus wavered, wandering aimlessly along the walls and the rest of the bathroom, until it fell upon Willow. A glimmer a recognition slowly spread across his bloodied face.
"W... why?" Lucian's dry voice croaked, the pain and raspiness in it foreign. Then his eyes fluttered closed, but they had already stabbed Willow's heart.
"Dammit!" Willow snatched a washcloth from a shelf and began cleaning the Lucian's wounds, starting with the most serious-looking one. He carefully dabbed the cool, wetted cloth over the gash on his master's angelic head. The wound still seeped blood but the heavier bleeding seemed to have stopped some time ago. It was an ugly wound, a deep tear most of the length of his forehead with dozens of scratches, some more severe than others. It would likely leave a just as ugly scar on that perfect skin. A shame.
Once that wound was clean, he washed the blood from the rest of his master's face. Soon delicate gold lashes glistened against the too pale cheeks and those wonderful lips blushed pink, no longer caked a bloodied red. Dangerous lips, dangerous to both of them: so warm, soft, sweet...
Willow gasped for the breath he had forgotten to take. Enough of that sort of thinking. Dangerous. He splashed water over the rest of his master's body, cleaning away the dirt, sweat, and blood. The actual wounds became more distinguishable but even though the severity wasn't what the amount of blood had implied, the sheer number of wounds did nothing to allow any relief. Willow cringed at the sins Lucian must have committed for fate to so scar such a beautiful body. They must be many and horrible.
Yet, in spite of that, in spite of himself, Willow had to help him. The demon with an angel's face was still the closest Willow ever had been to heaven.
(End Part 5)
(tbc)