Captive of Love

Prey

It was then I snapped out of my stupor. The sting of Karlus’s harsh words struck me hard. Fighting inebriation and the s****l spell he had cast over me, I slowly became aware of how reckless I had become, disgusted by my willingness to partake in sensual acts with him, especially in front of others. I had gone well beyond being carefree to downright foolhardy.

I yanked away. Karlus didn't protest, only stared at me with an inquisitive arched brow. I recoiled from the intensity of his gaze until my back pressed against the cool wall alongside the peep window. I could still hear the couple's cries of ecstasy, but my lustful desire had been extinguished.

"I want to leave now!" I demanded.

Karlus’s eyes darkened; within seconds, he was upon me. His hands flattened on each side of the wall next to my head, caging me between his strong arms. I shuddered as his stare penetrated my soul. My eyes fell to his lips. Shame heated my cheeks; despite his criticism of me, I still craved his kiss. So, when saliva began to pool in my mouth, my drunken brain thought it was in anticipation of his kiss. However, I soon realized the awful truth as a wave of queasiness washed over me.

I dipped below his arms, hurried to a nearby vase, and began retching inside it. As regret seeped into me over my decision to indulge in alcohol. I was painfully aware of how ridiculous I must have looked as I emptied the contents of my stomach into what was probably a priceless piece of art. Between heaves, short spontaneous sobs erupted from me. Yet, a soft touch upon my back began to ease my emotions. I then felt Karlus’s other hand gently pulling my hair back and holding it in place.

"Debole," he whispered.

I had no idea what that meant, but I found myself not caring. He was showing me the kindness I so needed at that moment, everything else didn't matter. After what felt like a lifetime of dry heaving, the revolting deed was over. I straightened. The room was dead silent. There were no more sounds of pleasure. I only heard and felt my heart pounding out of control. Karlus held his handkerchief to me. I took it; my eyes remained downcast as I muttered a thank you. I dabbed at the remnants of the vomit on my face.

"Look at me," Karlus commanded.

I didn't, couldn't, I was too ashamed. His fingertips touched my chin, I resisted his caress, but he refused to let me. He tilted my gaze to meet his. The red light from the window cast a menacing hue on him. For a moment, with his brows furrowed, I imagined he was angry at me.

Well, he was not the only one. Once we had parted company, I'd planned to barricade myself in my hotel suite until it was time for my plane ride home. My efforts to throw caution to the wind had led to me blowing chunks in front of the man I wished to seduce, but no such desires remained. Suddenly, a pain struck my temporal lobe, shutting my eyes. I began massaging the area. I was so preoccupied with nursing my wound, that I had forgotten about Karlus. Peeking beneath my eyelashes, I chanced a glimpse at Karlus. His expression was impassive. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he disgusted, or angry, or did it just occur to him that I wasn't the fearless carefree woman I pretended to be? Had he seen through my facade, straight through to the scared girl I truly was?

"Come, I'll take you to your hotel," he said.

I nodded.

There was nothing I could've said that would have healed my wounded pride or erased the image of me puking in front of Karlus. I figured I had destroyed any chance of him ever wanting me. Taking a few unsteady steps toward the exit, I inhaled, hoping to encourage oxygen flow to my tense muscles. Yet, the room reeked of vomit, and upon breathing the rancid smell my nausea returned, making my wooziness more severe. I consoled myself with the thought that in two days, I would be on the other side of the globe. Far from this occurrence, and far away from Karlus.

I continued my way to the exit, sliding my hand along the wall for stability. To my surprise, I was unexpectedly swept off my feet and carried out of the room like a bride. Karlus walked with confident strides as the partygoers moved aside to make a path as if he were Moses commanding the Red Sea. No one gawked as one might imagine they would at the sight of him carrying me. Perhaps it was out of respect. After all, he seemed friendly with everyone we encountered. I was careful not to breathe my offensive breath in his direction as he clutched me close. We were nearly out the door when Sergio intercepted.

"Ah, leaving so soon? Did you not enjoy the presentation?" Sergio asked, in an exuberant fashion.

He looked as if he was in a tussle of sorts. His blonde hair, which was laid to perfection when I first met him, was unkempt. His tux was wrinkled, and his bowtie was missing. His reddened and slightly swollen lips frowned as he got a better look at me.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Sergio asked.

However, Karlus answered, "No, my friend. Amara has taken ill. I am taking her back to her hotel."

Sergio nodded before he stepped aside to permit our exit. He called out, "Feel better soon. Arrivederci!" I watched over Karlus’s shoulders, as Sergio's attention refocused back onto the gala.

The chilly night air greeted us, cooling my clammy skin. My grip tightened around his neck as he descended the steps. The car was parked by the curb with the valet already stepping out to open the doors for us. Only when I was at the entrance did Karlus allow my feet to touch the ground.

He guided me inside the car and gave the valet a look to back off. The young man stepped back as Karlus closed my door. As my headache continued to throb, I shut my eyes, wondering how I would endure the ride back without tossing my cookies again. I heard the driver’s door shut, the engine roared to life and we were on our way. In the quietness, away from the crowd, my insecurities surfaced without mercy. I inched as far away from him as possible, wishing for the night to end.

"Do you plan to stay silent for the remainder of the evening?" Karlus questioned.

Without turning to face him, I attempted to answer, but my throat was raw. Karlus reached between us and opened the armrest. Inside was a cooling compartment, he grabbed a water bottle and handed it to me.

I murmured, "Thank you."

Grateful for his intuition. I guzzled the water, allowing the natural element to chill and soothe my windpipe. The foreign word he spoke resurged within my mind.

Feeling as though there was nothing more to lose, I asked, "Karlus, what does debole mean?"

Karlus’s hand that rested nearest to me flexed into a tight fist; I looked up, and his stare was unwavering at the road ahead. His eyes darkened once more; an undercurrent of aggressiveness shone upon his face. At the first stoplight, he turned to face me, and our eyes connected. I wanted so badly to hear him say something. Anything that would make me feel a little less unworthy.

Again, Karlus’s words crashed into me when he said, "It means, weak."

Weak!

Blinded by rage, I practically leaped out of the car before it stopped rolling.

How the f**k dare he call me weak? Yes, I suspected he knew I wasn't as brazen as I pretended, but it was rude to say so aloud.

My internal rant spurred me onward as I marched into the hotel's lobby. I heard his protests and calls for me to return, but I paid him no attention. It wasn't until I had to stop to wait for the elevator that he finally caught up with me. I felt his firm grip on the upper part of my arm, as he turned me towards him. I was furious until I saw the frightening sneer on his face. It was unnerving, to say the very least, a grin not at all matching the tone of the situation.

"Did you just run away from me?" He questioned. An odd note of excitement intertwined within his voice.

As if he was in disbelief of my actions.

I swallowed the lump that had begun to form in my throat. Karlus tugged me nearer, and my body involuntarily trembled.

"Are you cold, my dear?"