Bound by Flames
Page 33
Maybe he couldn’t get past the thought that I’d been raped. In the vampire world, it was the ultimate way Szilagyi could humiliate Vlad, and Vlad’s pride was legendary. I’d rather not discuss what had really happened with an audience, but some things couldn’t wait until later.
“What you saw on the second tape . . . I need to explain,” I began, only to have Vlad’s sharp wave cut me off.
“No, you don’t.” Then he moved nearer and squeezed my hand. “None of that was your doing. You have nothing to explain because Maximus was the culprit, and nothing you could have said or done would have changed what happened.”
Instead of comforting me, tears sprang into my eyes as a fresh wave of shame washed over me. I should have known Vlad wouldn’t be so shallow as to feel differently about me over what he thought Maximus had done, and he was right. If Maximus had raped me, it wouldn’t have been my fault. But I had been complicit in what had happened when Maximus gave me blood, and that would change Vlad’s feelings if he found out about it. At the time, I’d rationalized it as necessary, yet now, I cursed myself for not thinking of another way. How was I supposed to tell Vlad the “rape” he’d witnessed wasn’t real, but the other incident he didn’t know about was, and I had allowed it?
I couldn’t. Not now and maybe not ever.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, unable to look him in the eye. “Szilagyi insisted on sending you a rape video, so Maximus had everyone leave, then used duct tape on himself and me so that, ah, nothing penetrated but it looked real. While he was . . . acting, he told me where I was and that he’d had me skinned to remove your aura so I could use my abilities.” My voice caught. “It was the first time I felt like I had a chance.”
Vlad didn’t say anything and his emotions remained locked down. After a moment, I risked a glance at him, then wished I hadn’t. His eyes were lasered onto mine like heat-seeking missiles.
“You don’t have to lie,” he said, that stare compelling me not to look away although I desperately wanted to. “I am the last person to scorn, judge, or revile someone for being raped.”
“I know,” I choked out, another avalanche of guilt making it hard for me to speak. Yes, he’d survived years of real rape while refusing to let the abuse break him, whereas I had sold out after two weeks of far less harsh captivity. “I’m not lying. Maximus didn’t rape me. He risked his life not to, in fact.”
My voice strengthened on that last part. I couldn’t let Vlad blame Maximus for something he hadn’t done. Otherwise, he’d murder him the first chance he got. Then again, as I’d worried, he might anyway.
Maybe he’ll kill you, too, once he learns what you did when Maximus gave you blood, my inner voice whispered, breaking her recent silence.
I couldn’t stand to think about it anymore. With a muttered, “I need a minute,” I got up and went into the bathroom. Then I tried again to scrub away the remains of the past two weeks, but it was useless. I’d hated how my body had felt like a stranger’s after I was skinned. Now, it was covered with taunting essence imprints of what I couldn’t bring myself to admit to.
At last, I shut the water off. From the barely perceptible whispers I caught, I had been the topic of conversation in my absence.
“She doesn’t need an avenging warrior right now,” Cat was saying. “She needs her husband, so save the crushing of your enemies to hear the lamentations of their women for later.”
I sighed as I wiped up the remains of the water I’d spilled in my attempt to wash away more than the tangible results of my captivity. Then, unable to stall anymore, I left the bathroom.
Cat got up, returning to the front of the plane where, yes, the ghost with the long sideburns was hovering near the cockpit. I returned the ghost’s nod, hoping there was no chance that he’d turn into one of the murderous Remnants.
“Leila,” Vlad said in a carefully controlled tone when I sat back down. “I’ve seen enough suffering in my time to know that everyone handles it differently. If you want to talk about what happened, I will listen. If you don’t, I won’t press you. If you need anything, you will have it. Do you understand?”
I swallowed hard and nodded, getting used to the sting of tears in my eyes. How I wished I could ask for forgiveness, but though that was what I needed most, I didn’t have the courage to admit what I’d done. Or worse, how I would have done it again.
“I think I am tired,” I said, further proving my cowardice. Then I closed my eyes, wishing he’d pull me against him as he usually did, but though his grip on my hand briefly tightened, he stayed exactly where he was.
Chapter 18
Vlad didn’t say where we were headed after we dropped off Cat and the ghost she introduced as Fabian in Munich. I might have faked sleep for a few hours, but I eventually succumbed to the real thing well before dawn hit me with its usual knockout blow. When I awoke to find a crystal chandelier a couple dozen feet above me, I thought that I must be in another of Vlad’s extravagant homes.
I couldn’t ask because I was alone in the four-poster bed. The large, ornate room was decorated in soothing shades of white and cream with soft maroon accents in the carpet. An open arch with marble columns separated this room from another one, so I got out of bed to see if that’s where Vlad was. He wasn’t, but the sight of the large marble tub in the gilded bathroom almost made me abandon my search. Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and stopped in disbelief.
“What you saw on the second tape . . . I need to explain,” I began, only to have Vlad’s sharp wave cut me off.
“No, you don’t.” Then he moved nearer and squeezed my hand. “None of that was your doing. You have nothing to explain because Maximus was the culprit, and nothing you could have said or done would have changed what happened.”
Instead of comforting me, tears sprang into my eyes as a fresh wave of shame washed over me. I should have known Vlad wouldn’t be so shallow as to feel differently about me over what he thought Maximus had done, and he was right. If Maximus had raped me, it wouldn’t have been my fault. But I had been complicit in what had happened when Maximus gave me blood, and that would change Vlad’s feelings if he found out about it. At the time, I’d rationalized it as necessary, yet now, I cursed myself for not thinking of another way. How was I supposed to tell Vlad the “rape” he’d witnessed wasn’t real, but the other incident he didn’t know about was, and I had allowed it?
I couldn’t. Not now and maybe not ever.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, unable to look him in the eye. “Szilagyi insisted on sending you a rape video, so Maximus had everyone leave, then used duct tape on himself and me so that, ah, nothing penetrated but it looked real. While he was . . . acting, he told me where I was and that he’d had me skinned to remove your aura so I could use my abilities.” My voice caught. “It was the first time I felt like I had a chance.”
Vlad didn’t say anything and his emotions remained locked down. After a moment, I risked a glance at him, then wished I hadn’t. His eyes were lasered onto mine like heat-seeking missiles.
“You don’t have to lie,” he said, that stare compelling me not to look away although I desperately wanted to. “I am the last person to scorn, judge, or revile someone for being raped.”
“I know,” I choked out, another avalanche of guilt making it hard for me to speak. Yes, he’d survived years of real rape while refusing to let the abuse break him, whereas I had sold out after two weeks of far less harsh captivity. “I’m not lying. Maximus didn’t rape me. He risked his life not to, in fact.”
My voice strengthened on that last part. I couldn’t let Vlad blame Maximus for something he hadn’t done. Otherwise, he’d murder him the first chance he got. Then again, as I’d worried, he might anyway.
Maybe he’ll kill you, too, once he learns what you did when Maximus gave you blood, my inner voice whispered, breaking her recent silence.
I couldn’t stand to think about it anymore. With a muttered, “I need a minute,” I got up and went into the bathroom. Then I tried again to scrub away the remains of the past two weeks, but it was useless. I’d hated how my body had felt like a stranger’s after I was skinned. Now, it was covered with taunting essence imprints of what I couldn’t bring myself to admit to.
At last, I shut the water off. From the barely perceptible whispers I caught, I had been the topic of conversation in my absence.
“She doesn’t need an avenging warrior right now,” Cat was saying. “She needs her husband, so save the crushing of your enemies to hear the lamentations of their women for later.”
I sighed as I wiped up the remains of the water I’d spilled in my attempt to wash away more than the tangible results of my captivity. Then, unable to stall anymore, I left the bathroom.
Cat got up, returning to the front of the plane where, yes, the ghost with the long sideburns was hovering near the cockpit. I returned the ghost’s nod, hoping there was no chance that he’d turn into one of the murderous Remnants.
“Leila,” Vlad said in a carefully controlled tone when I sat back down. “I’ve seen enough suffering in my time to know that everyone handles it differently. If you want to talk about what happened, I will listen. If you don’t, I won’t press you. If you need anything, you will have it. Do you understand?”
I swallowed hard and nodded, getting used to the sting of tears in my eyes. How I wished I could ask for forgiveness, but though that was what I needed most, I didn’t have the courage to admit what I’d done. Or worse, how I would have done it again.
“I think I am tired,” I said, further proving my cowardice. Then I closed my eyes, wishing he’d pull me against him as he usually did, but though his grip on my hand briefly tightened, he stayed exactly where he was.
Chapter 18
Vlad didn’t say where we were headed after we dropped off Cat and the ghost she introduced as Fabian in Munich. I might have faked sleep for a few hours, but I eventually succumbed to the real thing well before dawn hit me with its usual knockout blow. When I awoke to find a crystal chandelier a couple dozen feet above me, I thought that I must be in another of Vlad’s extravagant homes.
I couldn’t ask because I was alone in the four-poster bed. The large, ornate room was decorated in soothing shades of white and cream with soft maroon accents in the carpet. An open arch with marble columns separated this room from another one, so I got out of bed to see if that’s where Vlad was. He wasn’t, but the sight of the large marble tub in the gilded bathroom almost made me abandon my search. Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and stopped in disbelief.
