"You were set to marry my father's heir. My oldest brother," She picks up a cup, "Due to unforeseen circumstances, he has died. As second oldest, it is my duty to fulfill my father's wishes." I'm still utterly confused. She takes a sip, "You will ma...
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Ruth Foster
I never wondered where people went when they died. For my mother, I just imagined she be in the place where she always wanted to be, alone, and isolated somewhere where she could truly live. Somewhere where she could write, and find her forever. I don't think about my father much, but I know he'd want to be somewhere peaceful.
I think that's what we all want, peace.
The first thing I smell when I wake up from my slumber, is smoke. Not burning fire, but more like cigarette smoke. My uncle used to do it, so I'm used to the smell. He used to hide it from Emily and I, but we knew. Old habits always die hard.
I let out a cough, "Fuck."
"Glad of you to grace us with your presence," She puts out her cigarette, and fans the air with her hand, possibly trying to get rid of the smoke.
"I don't mind if you smoke," A lie. I do mind, but it doesn't matter what I think. Like she said; I'm nothing, and my mind doesn't matter to her.
Orion shrugs, "I was bored waiting. I thought you wouldn't wake up for a few days, and so I sparked up. I don't smoke often, only when I'm stressed."
"You were stressed about me?" I groan as I shift in the bed I'm in, it isn't the bed at Orion's house. This looks more like a hospital bed, but this isn't a hospital at all. I wonder where I am, but don't ask.
"You're in my warehouse," Somehow she knew I was wondering, "And I wasn't stressed about you. I just would really rather not have to go through the trouble of abducting another woman to marry."
"How noble," I scoff, "How long have I been out?"
"Two days, give or take." I manage to catch a glimpse of her as I sit up from the bed. She's sitting in a chair across the room, her unlit cigarette in her hand. She's sitting in the same leather pants she had on the last time I remember seeing her, the ones that highlight her perfect body. I hate myself for looking at it, and liking what I see. I can't stare.
Not at her, and not like this.
"Well then," I finally choke up a response, "What's the diagnosis? Doc." I also manage to smile softly once she rolls her eyes at me. I really do like her eyes. Such beautiful eyes, wasted on a shedevil.
Orion shrugs, "Well, You don't have cancer."
Unable to tell the expression on her face, I let out a small chuckle, "Okay, so then why'd I pass out?"
