Day 20: Into the Devil's Lair

Have I gone mad-locked under these chains?

I must have.

To have gained this bravery -- this will to defiant a man.

I was never raised to go against the wishes of any man.

~Samantha

Things had quiet down a bit a few days after that night. Sure she was still expected to serve the group of bandits, and she did because it was her job, but she was left to herself for the most part. Yet, she couldn't shake the unnerving feeling that she was being watched where ever she went among the rebels' hidden village. The only place she felt no watchful eyes was her room. Well the room that was appointed to her the very day she wake up.

She was laying in her uncomfortable bed, hugging a pillow. Sleep wouldn't come to her, so she stared at the brownish wall in front of her.

Before long, a knock comes at her door. Rising, she reluctantly approached her door and opened it. Standing on the other side of the door was a young boy, around ten years of age.

"The Leader is asking for you, Miss," he told her.

Still angered, she shook her head from side to side, to say that she would not go.

The boy nodded, but his eyes goes wide for a few seconds as if she was remembering something, before he said: "He said that if he must come get you himself. You wouldn't like it."

At least ten different scenarios came to mind as to what the Devil would do. All of them unpleasant and attention drawers.

Yet, a small part of her wanted to reject his invite, only to see him enrage.

Sighs

She nodded.

It'll be easier to see what he wants, so I could get to sleep sooner.

The closer she came to the pit of flames. Her heart pounded faster and faster. Was this anxiety or anticipation? Earlier sensations sparked to life again.

Reaching the door, she knocked. A light one, but the noise was loud to her ears, but the pulsing of her heart was louder. When she heard the faint sounds of movement, the corners of her lip rose slightly. Maybe he haven't heard me. Just as she started to turn, she heard it:

"Enter," his voice came.

His voice!

She felt weak. Her knees grew weak.

He was sitting in a velvet cushioned arm chair. A bottle of wine rested on a small round table. To his right, a circular bed rested. White sheets covered the bed, but the bed was unmade. About ten red pillows sat at the top half of the bed, huddled together. More were laid around the bed, giving the bed a comfortable appeal. Candles sat on a dresser, feeling the room with this sensational scent that seem to ease the tension in her body.

Beside the bed was a doorway that showed the inside of a bathroom. Paintings and signatures decorated the walls. Just behind where Tristan sat, the symbol of the rebel was hanging like a flag.

To his left, another table rested against the wall. On the table were a cluster of what looked like a map, papers, daggers, tools, and a few other objects that she couldn't recognize. A closet and full length mirror sat to the left of the cluttered table. As my eyes wandered around the room, she took a few, slow steps inside.

Reluctantly, hee gaze returned to him. Sitting there watching her, he looked so inviting. She fought against her desire to cross the room and claim his lips as hers and whatever this feeling of relaxation was. "What do you want?" Her was tone crisp with annoyance.

Brown eyes seem to take her in. She felt as if she was being undressed under his heavy gaze. To say she was anxious was an understatement.

Abruptly, he stood and crossed over to her. Did she step back? No, she was taught to always face a fear, no matter how intimidating his approach was.

Their eyes locked together like two hurricanes of wind. Barely touching, but both waiting for the one move to set off a fight of domination.

"That tone will get you in a lot of trouble." The warning thick in his voice.

She said nothing further.

This seemed to please Tristan for an amused smile broke across his face. Their eyes seem to be doing all the real talking. Raising a hand, he reached for her. She swat his hand away just before he could make any contact with any part of her.

In his eyes, she saw the stir of emotions that she couldn't read, before a flicker of anger colored his eyes. "Wrong move." He said gently. The little distance that was between them was no more. His left arm wrapped itself around her waist. Her chest and his were joined together, causing their body heat to mix.

Her lips parted to give him a word or two, but the words never came. Those beautiful brown orbs held her trapped against him. She felt his left hand stroking her cheek lightly, as if he was scared to touch her. The touch brought on a rush of heat to her cheeks.

No man had touched me like this-so gentle.

"Now. None of this spirited behavior, Princess."

She didn't have the desire to fight back. Instead, she found hee hand resting on his sides. It was at this moment, she glared at him. He made her stomach turn despite making her feel strange things.

No, Tristan Bellman is a man I must not get close to. Not now nor later.

"I hate you." Pushing against him, she tried to take a step back, only to feel him taking her left hand with his right. Bring my hand close to his mouth, he planted a kiss on her fingers. A blush colored her cheeks. Everything felt so...enchanting.

The warm of the room. The way the candles flicked so slowly. The way he held her close. It was safe to say that she was under his spell.

That softness was in his eyes once more. This time, he didn't bother to hide it. "While you are here, you will become mine. My own secret pleasure."

Secret Pleasure ? His words brought confusion to her. She wanted nothing to do with him, especially him!

That little bubble popped, and the spell was once again broken. "I don't think so." She twisted out of his arms. Every muscle in her told her that she needed to leave. She couldn't believe this. Turning, she made her way to the door.

She reached for the door handle, only to find his covering hrr own. Her heart quickened.

A cold shiver ran through her body, followed by a warm one.

She felt his other hand wrapped around my waist, drawing her back against him. The desire she could feel in his body.

"I'm not finished with you." His breath smelled of the rum. Such a disgusting thing to smell!

"Ugh-you're drunk!"

He turned her face to his. It was then that she realized just how close their faces were. "Not nearly."

She knew his intention the moment she entered his room alone, yet it was as if she couldn't do anything to stop those plum lips from moving closer. She couldn't stop her eyes from closing the moment their lips touched. She couldn't stop herself from turning from the door and pulling him closer to her as the kiss deepen quickly. She couldn't stop.

Everything else was nothing more than a blissful dream.

Hello my gems!!!! So I was wondering what you all think of Tristan Bellman?

Like or dislike this little tale of passion and drama?

Ooh and nothing pass kissing happens. ^~^

I'll be making my decision to continue writing this one base off your answers. ^~^