Ella's POV
"He is hiding something,"
Drifta muttered in my head, and I agreed.
Something was off about Toke; he didn't seem like himself. Hearing my mother's story was heartbreaking and nice at the same time. A part of me that died long ago, that voice inside my head that made up excuses for her to make myself feel better, stirred in the back of my mind. It told me she had a valid reason for trying to avoid reality, that it could be understood that she drowned herself in liquor and eventually became unable to stop.
But her story also made me angry. I wanted to shake my mom and yell at her. Demand she get a grip. How could she go through so much to save me and still treat me like I meant nothing more than the dog shit she stepped in? She left her friends, her new family, and my family and chose a life all alone. She chose for me to be all alone. I would have been okay with that; I would have no problem with that whatsoever. I would have accepted having only one parent, a tight economy, and all that if she only cared about me. I guess she did somewhere deep down, but I had needed to know that, feel and hear that while I grew up, and I never did. It was not enough for a little girl only have to hope, dream and imagine her mother loved her.
Then the fact about my dad irked my anger, and Tew didn't tell me this part. Was it even true? My muscles were still unresponsive; whatever he gave me affected everything, but at least my mind was clear now. I managed to hear him, follow the story and take it in. Also, enough to understand he was not himself, and that feeling of being guided through a story so you would not look in the wrong direction grew inside me. What was he hiding? What could be so important that it could change the way I see it? That I didn't know.
To add to it all, he was too close. Way too close, and I didn't like it. He was acting like we were long-lost lovers catching up. The fact that I couldn't move a muscle or even utter a word didn't matter. Helpless and all in his power, a feeling I didn't like. Drifta growled when he kissed us again. Knowing fully well, we would not have let him if he asked.
His smell had changed; even his touch had changed. The warm electrical sparks were gone; instead, his skin felt cold and clammy. His once so alluring scent, warm and sweet, had turned to more overly sweet, almost sickening and metallic. After touching my face, kissing me, and hugging me. Letting his hand drift where it no longer belongs, he finally left me alone. It gave me time to think and let the story sink in.
"It is not right."
Drifta mumbled for the hundredth time while my mother's story churned in my mind. After Toke walked out to do whatever he was doing, she came back. Not that she ever left, but for a while there, I felt like we had disconnected, and that alone freaked me out. We just found each other; I can't lose her now. Not ever.
I began to notice small, strange things I never considered. How I could feel or picture her movements, how her nose wrinkled up, or how her ears twisted from side to side like sonars. She was scanning for noises, for hints that Toke would return. How she seemed to have a strange habit of dragging her jaw or underside of her head back and forth on the ground before settling. Or how poisonous her sarcasm could be, even I had to admit defeat to the sarcasm queen herself.
"You need to play along for a while."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, play along. You know he wants what he wants you to be like now. Be obedient, helpless, and lean on him."
"You can't be serious? He is sick; he has to be! He won't get better because I play the helpless little female. You don't really think Fury will step in and convince him he's wrong just because we play submissive and batt our eyelashes at him?"
"Of course not! "
Drifta barked back, annoyed. Before she continued,
"But we need time! I'm too weak to help; you can barely move a finger. Make a run for that Oscar prize and play his perfect little housewife! Make sure he stays happy and doesn't question our intentions. I will have to step back; if he senses me, he will know the poison is already losing its effect. We can't risk a new dose, and I'm not willing to bet our sanity that he will not take advantage and mark us while we are drugged down. So, batt those lashes, push forward that pouting mouth, press out a freaking tear, and make sure your breasts look like they are about to fall out of your shirt. Just... Just buy us some time. I need to rest; I need to get on my feet, then I'll make sure we get out of here."
Finishing the last sentence, Drifta was already retreating. I understood, and so far, it was our only plan, but I could not help how lonely and empty I felt as her presence faded even further back into my mind. But without thinking, I tilted my head forward, and my lower lip started trembling slightly as the door opened. My body was still heavy and hard to move, but my fingertips, lips, chin, and neck started to come back to me. The door slowly opened just when a single tear trickled down across the bridge of my nose. Still lying on the side, it rolled over and got caught on my lashes on the other eye, pretending I could not move a muscle.
Steps rushed over the floor, and my bed dipped down right by my shoulder. This time I was prepared; I didn't even flinch or need to fight the need to swat his hand away as he brushed the hair out of my face. Kissed my tear away and even took the time to adjust me and the cover around me. I made strange coughing noises, rasping words, and attempted to. A real damsel in distress in need of water act, and he fell for it. Lifted a cup of ice-cold water to my lips and held my head up.
After more coughing and strange noises, I managed to press out a couple of words. Looking at him, full of concern,
"Toke, what did you do to me?"
"Shush, little cricket. I just needed you to listen; drink some more, and rest. You will be able to sit up again in a couple of hours. I'll make some food ready by then, and I have something else I want to talk to you about."
And just like that, he put me down and tucked me in, flushed the fur under my head, and stopped. Just stood there for a long time staring at me. My eyes widened, and my heart raced when he leaned down and kissed me. Not just a simple, light kiss. No. A full hot and heavy make-out session where he actually had to use his finger to open my mouth so he could slip his tongue in my mouth. I never felt so degraded before, so utterly disgusted. I could have bit his tongue off, I could have slammed my mouth shut. Instead, I breathed my anger through my nose, ignored the angry tears burning in my eyes, and pretended I could not do a thing. I didn't kiss him back, didn't moan. Nothing. But it didn't seem to matter to him; he deepened the kiss and pushed me down on the fur.
Just as I got scared he would start undressing me, he stopped, leaned his forehead down against mine, and locked eyes with me. With a smile, he breathed out,
"Oh goddess, I missed this! The taste of you, hearing your heartbeat increase to my touch. Everything. I am so glad you are here Eir!"
And now I'm disgusted and confused; why was he talking like he didn't just drug me and kidnap me? Acting like this was a romantic getaway in our extremely hectic everyday life. Oh, Drifta, please hurry! I sent a silent prayer her way.