"My drops of tears I'll turn to sparks of fire."

                    -Shakespeare

Chapter 46

River's POV

Like a flame ignited by a single wooden stick, sparks flew. Derek pounced, body lifting in the air as Hyde stood, eyes widened as a similarly built man landed on top of him. A high-pitched shriek filled the room as the woman on the stairs crumbled, trembling hands pulling to her face as all watched in complete astonishment. None expected Derek to crack as he did, eyes turning in fueled anger, as he landed on top of Hyde's shocked form, knocking him to the ground. Derek's legs laid on either side of Hyde's waist as he straddled him, teeth grinding harshly as his eyes flashed and his fist clashed against Hyde's face with a harsh crunch.

A soft gasp escaped my mouth as my right hand jumped to cup my mouth. My eyes went immediately to Isaiah who looked utterly frightened as his hand laid equally around his mouth, stance tensed and eyes widened. As Derek's fist pulled away from Hyde's a reminisce of blood was apparent across his knuckles, pulling a hiss from Hyde as his chest rose and fell.

I expected another punch to ensue but Derek remained still, watching Hyde through narrowed eyes. Hyde's eyes were clouded in visual pain, yet he remained just as still as Derek.

What is happening?

I turned to Alastair. Though his eyes didn't turn, they remained unwavering on the two forms on the ground. His eyes were filled with puzzlement yet...interest?

I peered back at the two men. They remained in the position from before I had turned though their expressions had changed. As Derek appeared stone-faced, Hyde's lips had upturned to a slanted grin. As if, in some strange, deluded way he was finding amusement amidst his own pain.

"Why Derek, if you had wanted to straddle me, you could have just asked." Derek's eyes narrowed as Hyde's widened in mock innocence.

Derek clicked his tongue as he turned his head away from Hyde. As if perhaps turning away from him would cause his jokes to cease fire, though as he turned his eyes locked Isaiah's panicked blues. His eyes widened and body stood in a tensed, hasty manner.

Though his sudden movements tripped him as his feet caught and he fell back down, right on top of Hyde.

A muffled laughter escaped Michael's throat as Derek struggled on top of Hyde, attempting to pull away yet his legs entwined with Hyde's and managed to trap him even tighter against Hyde.

It was quite a humorous sight. A cussing Derek locked against a chuckling Hyde as Michael stood beside them looking seconds from collapsing in laughter as his hand fell from his mouth and tears ran down his face. Isaiah seemed dumb stricken, unsure of how to react as his mouth fell open. Alastair remained composed, though circling his eyes were a very visible trace of humor.

It was then that Keith walked in, returning from a meeting. His mouth opened to call to Michael though as his eyes laid on the two struggling forms on the ground, his words escaped him, mouth dropping as he burst into laughter.

Derek peered up and cussed as Keith pointed at him through a fit of laughter, "I leave for a few hours and return to you and Hyde practically mating against the palace floor," he choked on a fit of laughter as Derek's eyes widened.

"N-no!" Derek struggled against Hyde's equally laughing form.

"I guess what they say about hatred breeding passion is true," Keith managed through his thick laughter and it was at that, that Derek pushed anxiously against Hyde, having enough of his teasing.

"Get off of me!" Derek shouted against Hyde.

Hyde's smirk fell as he placed his hands on his shoulders, holding him still as he untangled their legs and freed Derek. Derek stood with an exasperated sigh, immediately rushing to Isaiah and whispering in rushed, hushed sounds as Hyde stood by himself, running his fingers through his hair.

Keith and Michael's laughter stopped but their smiles remained as they smirked at each other with knowing glances. Keith's hands wrapped around Michael's waist as he chuckled against his neck. Michael's hands wrapped around Keith's as he turned his head and kissed Keith between his brows.

A pair of arms wrapped around my slim figure as Alastair's lips pressed against my ear. A shiver ran down my spine as a warm breath escaped past his soft lips.

"Now that that's over..." His fingers tightened against my hips.

A small smile lifted against my cheeks as my head tilted.

"Hm?" I hummed, fingers brushing teasingly against his heated hands.

Suddenly his body pulled away from mine, pulling a lowered whimper from my throat along with the stolen heat.

"We should finish our conversation," his eyes turned to the stairs. My eyes followed, acknowledging the missing woman.

She must have sneaked out the heat of hysteria.

"Love?" My attention turned back to him.

"We have to work on our communication," he huffed out as his fingers ran through his black, raven-like hair.

My head clouded with confusion, though before I could utter a sound, his fingers wrapped around my wrist and I was gently pulled up the flight of stairs. Isaiah sent me a quizzical look, at the foot of the stairway, which I returned as Alastair pulled me around the corner to his study.

Just as I sat on the seat beside his desk, he let out an exasperated sigh. He dropped to the floor, between my legs as he peered up at me with eyes filled with nerves.

"River," he breathed out, "our communication...it's not the best."

I nodded slowly.

Where was he going with this?

"Last night," he took a breath, "you disappeared. No explanation, nothing. Then, I managed to find you and...nothing."

His eyes searched mine as his hands lifted to rest on my knees, squeezing lightly.

"I have no idea why you left. What you were doing in the dungeon. Why you pushed me away. Why you won't tell me what's wrong," his eyes dug into mine, "do you understand where I'm going with this?"

I nodded.

I'm not communicating well.

"Love," one hand lifted from my knee to squeeze my hand, "I'm your mate. I'm not supposed to be so completely out of the loop as I am now. I'm not a stranger...you do you realize that, don't you?" His eyes grew anxious.

I nodded.

"Communication, love."

"I-I," I struggled with my words, "I-I k-know y-you're my m-mate."

His brows pushed tightly against one another. "So tense," he mumbled beneath his breath. Seemingly more to himself than me as he brought my hand to his lips.

"What's causing such an anxiety within you?" His eyes lifted from my hand to meet mine.

My breath caught.

The door flashed through my mind. A large, crimson writing across the entrance. Taunting almost.

My eyes dropped to my hands. A flash of anxiety ran up my spine, stealing my breath. That door, that single door that contained such horror. I was afraid, so afraid. Afraid of what it meant. What would happen if he were to find out my knowledge of it? Hidden deep within the darkness of the dungeon, hidden from sight, from mind.

He hadn't wanted me to find out.

Playroom.

His own personal torture chamber. The pieces were coming together piece by horrifying piece.

Though, playroom. I couldn't wrap my mind around that word. Why that name? It sounded so...childlike, so eerie.

My father. Had he been torturing him this entire time?

His hands tightened around my knee and hand. A sharp gasp escaped my throat.

Those hands, those beautiful hands that had so gently touched me from time and time again. Those hands were the same hands that held the sharp daggers and torture devices that marked the walls around my father's walls.

The same hands that were used to torture my father. My mind wandered to the image of my father in his cage, covered in bruises and scars. The blood splatters across his cage bars, across the dirty floor.

Bile pulled up my throat, my head spun.

"River?" His voice was so far, so hard to make out beneath the overwhelming sound of my beating heart.

What was I going to do?

What was my next step?

"River," and just like that I was out of the chair and in Alastair's lap. My mind shrieked as my heart pounded. One side of me wanted to press my nose to his chest, to inhale his unique scent, while another wanted to push him away. To run.

No more running.

"Please don't cry, love." His fingers brushed lightly under my eyes as his eyes drooped sadly.

Am I crying?

"I'm sorry," his voice broke.

Why is he apologizing?

I sniffled as my eyes grew heavier by the moment. My anxiety was wearing me out, tugging away at me. It was morning yet I couldn't help but feel the need to crawl back onto the chair and fall asleep.

"River..."

And like that, I was out.

I awoke disoriented. My surroundings had shifted. No longer was I in a wooden-walled study, filled with more books than I could ever hope to read, but in a room far more familiar. Alastair's room, our room. Though in a room much more his than mine he was nowhere to be seen. I was alone.

My head turned to the window, as it always did. A soft breeze rushed in and brushed against my exposed shoulder blade, running a slight shiver down my spine as my arms circled around myself, in hopes of providing some form of heat and it was then I had realized. I was unclothed.

I pulled away at the sheets and peered down. I was nude.

Had he stripped me while I was sleeping?

I scratched my head in confusion only to rest upon a heap of wet hair and it was then that realization dawned on me.

He had bathed me.

I fell back against the pillows, collecting my thoughts. Instead of talking it out, I had panicked, landing myself passed out like an overworked mule. It was pathetic.

Though, what was I to say? What would telling him accomplish? Would he be upset? The fact that he'd never brought meant he didn't want me to know of it. To know that side of him. I vaguely remembered Keith, warning me moments after meeting one another, of his temper. He spoke vaguely of how he used to treat his past lovers.

If they were even that.

Warm bodies for his pleasure, that was all they were to him.

Cruel. A side of him I had heard of yet never truly seen and truly never wanted to.Perhaps I was being naive, thinking if perhaps if I were to hide it away, never speak of it, it would disappear. Thinking my mate, the one I loved with my entire being, had a cruel, malicious side to him, frightened me. It struck cords within my heart, ones that tugged and tore at the gentle organ. It brought up memories, ones I've tried hard to forget, to erase with ones of far more pleasantry but now it was resurfacing, haunting me.

Could it be? Could I have fallen for a man similar to my father? The signs were all there yet my mind struggled to wrap itself around the facts as my heart tightened against my chest. A cruel, hidden side. A charming demeanor yet inside...

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut as my fingers dug harshly into the soft, feather-like sheets.

No. It can't be. He's been nothing but kind to me since the moment he'd met me. No one could keep up a facade for so long, for all hours.

Yet my father's image plagued my mind, his perfect marriage to my mother, only to turn devil-like the moment of her passing.

Was it possible?

My body froze, fingers nails deep into the silken sheets, breath thickening by the moment. My reality was cracking, shaken to the core. To think my beautiful my mate, my sweet Alastair could be nothing more than a facade.

No. No. No.

My fingers pulled from the sheets, nails pulling to scrape harshly against my scalp as my teeth ground and mind raced.

What am I going to do? What should I do?

Teeth ground, fist clenched harshly against my hair as a silent drop slid down the side of my face to the white sheets. My head turned slightly as the red dripping spread, painting the once white fabric in a crimson red. Innocence violated in a bloody red.

A sudden ringing ripped through my head. A high-pitched shriek escaped my throat as I clenched my head. Back and forth, the room turned, eyes glazing over as my vision painted red.

Drip, drop, drip, drop.

Drops of red slid down my face, laying a thin sheet over my eyes and spreading across the once white sheets.

My body shook, teeth chattering as I pulled my nails from my scalp. Though instead of fingers, outstretched claws filled my vision, red dripping down the sharpened tips, as a frightened yelp burst from my throat. I scrambled from the bed to the bathroom where I stood before the mirror and let out a sharp breath. My teeth remained the same, though a thin line of blood dripped out from my head, where my nails had clawed at my scalp. I held my shaking hands to my face.

How did this happen?

I turned back to the mirror, catching sight of the plush towels behind me in my reflection. I turned, grabbing a small towel and wetting it in the sink before pressing it against the gaping claw marks on my head. I hissed, closing my eyes, as a sharp, pulsing pain shook through my scalp.

"Goddess," I hissed out exasperatedly.

I turned back to the mirror just as two protruding fangs began to visibly stretch from my gums, pushing down my canines harshly.

I'm shifting. No. No. No.

My fingertips pushed against my canines, hoping to stop the growing but it did nothing but dig into the pads of my fingers, drawing more blood as I let out a hiss and pulled away. My nails scraped against my bottom lip as I pulled away, cutting more skin on the way out.

Tears escaped from my frustrated form as I let out a whimpered whine. A small droplet of blood bled down my lip but in my fit of frustration, I zoomed out of the bathroom, ignoring the red that now painted down my face. My eyes searched the room.

Anything. Anything to make it stop.

My clothes grew constricting as a cry escaped my throat. I dropped to the floor, the pounding growing more prominent.

No. No. No.

'No.'

The pain ceased as something shifted in my mind, a presence awakening. My eyes widened as a shaky breath escaped my throat, "Luna?"