Secret Mate: Night Circus Series

Never Ending Love- 2

Thana

Home. Except it wasn't home at all. Deep down, I knew that. Somewhere deep in my subconscious, I knew this wasn’t where I lived, even if most of my things were here. Right down to my favourite stuffed elephant on the bookshelf.

But it wasn’t home. It was a box, a prison with walls, windows, and doors. None of which opened.

Outside was a distant memory. The feel of the wind in my hair and the sun on my face. I could barely remember it. When I tried to relive the feeling, I couldn’t.

There was nothing but this.

I just didn’t quite know what this was. I didn’t even really remember my life before I came here.

Pulling the threadbare teddy from the shelf, I hu gged it to my chest and flopped back down on the bed. It was the same, almost, but eerily, just like this room, this house, which wasn’t a house at all. It didn’t smell right. It didn’t smell of home, or of laughter and my family.

How many times had I cried myself to sleep as a child, holding this toy to my face? More times than I cared to admit, and yet it didn’t have those marks.

Someone had tried very hard to replicate my life within this prison and they had done a good job, but this wasn’t my life, no matter what he said.

Caradoch.

My jailer, my saviour, kept telling me that I needed to remember, but at the same time, he forced me to forget. He didn’t want me to remember anything but him. And God, I was trying.

Disjointed images flashed before my closed eyes, pulling a scared little whimper from my lips. The blur of a pale face with teeth bared as it came rushing towards me. A thing out of a nightmare. Caradoch had told me it was just a dream, but I knew it wasn’t.

I remembered what had happened to my friend at the Desir Du Cirque, just like I remembered what had happened to me. It was easier when he wasn’t there to guide my thoughts.

Groaning, I rolled over and buried my face into the pillows.

Why was it all so confusing? Every time I remembered something, I started to doubt myself. I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.

All I knew for certain was that this wasn’t my actual home or my real life, and that Caradoch hadn’t been back for days.

When he was here, even when he frightened me, I felt more at ease in his presence. Maybe because I didn’t have to think so hard. I didn’t have to worry about anything because he told me what to think, what to eat, what to wear.

The light above my head dimmed. Not casting the small room into full darkness, but close.

Bedtime.

Another day had passed.

How many had that been now? I couldn’t remember. I knew I should probably try to keep track, but it was hard when there were no pens or pencils anywhere in my little homely prison.

I’d tried to hurt myself, I think. Back in the beginning. I kind of remembered the blood. As a result, there was nothing sharp anywhere. Not even a butter knife.

Had I eaten today? I couldn’t remember that either. But I knew I was hungry.

Why was it so hard to keep a grip on reality?

Shivering, I folded my arms around my chest. It was bedtime, and I knew I was supposed to wash and make myself ready. Caradoch would be mad if I went to bed dirty.

I didn’t want him mad. I wanted him to be pleased with me. Maybe then he would come back?

I just didn’t have the energy to move from my bed.

“Pull yourself together, b***h tits.” The voice seemed to echo around me, but I knew it was in my head. A remnant of a memory I couldn’t quite grasp.

Lottie.

It was Lottie's voice. My best friend and roommate.

I sat bolt upright in the bed, the stuffed animal falling to the floor, forgotten, and looked around.

Where was Lottie? She hadn’t been home in ages. How long had it been since I had seen her? I didn’t know if she was ok.

Had something happened to her?

The light above my head flickered for a second before blazing into life, illuminating the surrounding room.

It wasn’t my room. Why on earth had I thought it looked like mine? It was nothing more than a brick box with mismatched furniture pushed up against the walls.

Magic.

The word whispered against my skin. And I knew this time I wasn’t hallucinating. I had always known there was magic in the world.

Magic and monsters.

One had taken me prisoner and was keeping me God knows where and for how long, and the other haunted me, making me see things that weren’t there. Making me feel things that weren’t real.

This was my reality. This prison.

It was a terrifying thought, but not as terrifying as forgetting again.

There was nothing worse than that.

This time, when he came back, it was the monster with the angelic face I needed to remember.

***

Something featherlight and soft brushed against my rib cage: a tickle of fingers in a caress so soft and gentle that it almost felt like I had imagined it.

It wasn’t my imagination, though. The fear that flowed through me told me that much. Frozen in its icy grip, I was unable to do anything but let those cool fingers slide over my ribs.

“You are too thin.” The voice was even more of a caress than the hand on my body. So soft, so smooth. It seemed to stroke me from the inside out. “You have not been eating, Thana.” Smooth fingertips danced down over my stomach, stopping short at the hem of my shorts but teasing along it.

“Are you as hungry as I am?”

I kept my eyes shut and my breathing even. I didn’t want him to know I was awake.

“I am always hungry for you, Thana,” his voice, warm and inviting, continued, “For centuries, I have waited to taste you again.”

The hand on my stomach moved, coming to rest on my thigh. I didn’t put up a fight when he parted my legs, bringing one out of the warmth of the blankets completely.

Kneading my flesh, his hands moved upwards. I shivered. My skin trembled under his ministrations.

Why did it feel so damn good to be touched by him? It was familiar. Even when I knew it shouldn’t be.

I could recall him touching me the night he had taken me. He had kissed me and told me to remember, but he hadn’t since that night. I was sure of it.

That I would have remembered.

And what did he mean by centuries? We had only met the night he had taken me. That wasn’t centuries ago.

God, it was confusing.

Everything in my life felt not quite real.

“I remember how sweet you used to taste, Thana.” One finger brushed against the material covering my core, tentatively trailing down my centre.

“You need to remember as well, Thana.” He pressed against my shorts.

A growl rumbled from him and I struggled to hold back the urge to whimper. It was an animalistic sound. A noise full of hunger and longing.

“I cannot give you what you need until you do. But I must take what I need.” Once more he rubbed and I desperately tried not to feel. “Forgive me, my love.”

The feel of his lips on my inner thigh was new. It felt strange. But not unwelcome.

“I must feed, Thana, so you have to forgive me.”