The Blood Order

XXVII

He leads up the left staircase and pulls me down the hallway, his arms lifting me to keep me moving faster as the shock slowly wears off. This isn't a dream. This is real. 

Raphael pulls me in front of a solid wood door turning the knob into a suite. A large bed sits on a platform towards the back with a floor to ceiling window sitting behind it, while a bathroom sits off to one side and on the other an office space. A small kitchenette sits in the front, only a sink and what resembles a fridge. 

"This is our suite. You are free to do whatever you wish, and out of the door by the office is our balcony. It has an amazing view of the city and the falls." He finally releases me allowing me to step out of his hold. I rush forward getting across the room as fast as possible dropping into a corner to breath. Raphael holds his hands out, his face surprised at my reaction, "Did you not enjoy my touch?" 

"I need space please." I mumble out shoving my head between my knees to stare at the plush carpet that covers the room. Soft. Enjoy the soft. 

"Space? Like the sky space? Or is this an earth lingo I don't understand." He shifts towards me squatting maybe a foot from my feet. I hear him click off his cloak throwing it into a nearby chair. I watch from the ground as he rolls up his sleeves to just above his elbows, tattoos covering every inch of his arm. He places a calloused hand under my chin forcing me to look up at him, "J'kani?" 

"Don't call me that, please." This strength comes from no where, my mind ready to submit if he slightly raises his voice. I had more power through the written word compared to when he sits in front of me with his beautiful jaw. With the removal of the cloak, the tattoos that work up his neck are visible, barely going over the curve. A brass key dangles from around his neck, his top unbuttoned to show off some of his upper chest. If I wasn't in this situation, I would be swooning at the sight of him. He truly resembles a greek god. 

He moves his hands to my arms looking over the bruises that line my skin, the scarring from the years of abuse my father has delivered me. I see his red eyes start to glow much like they did earlier before they killed Jamal, "Don't kill me please." 

Raphael meets my eyes, his turning back to the more calm color, I see him contemplate as he runs over my body, "You've been hurt haven't you. Is this why you don't enjoy my touch?" 

I don't respond, letting him look me over again. He runs a thumb over each one, some dark purple, others yellowing, "I will rip this persons heads from their shoulders, would you tell me who hurt you?" 

Silence again. 

He pulls away to run his hand through his brown locks, me pulling my arm to my chest. Raphael stands pulling me up with him by my shoulder, "Let's get you changed." 

I walk with him the closet and he grabs a silk white, knee length dress from one side of the room holding it out to me, "This will be too big for now, but we will have the seamstress correct all your clothing, and get you to a more sustainable weight." 

I turn away to walk behind the changing wall that sits in the corner. He doesn't argue. I would prefer to shower before this, but right now my best bet is to listen to him. Not only to protect myself, but my friend. 

"Why are you being so nice?" 

"Excuse me, firefly?" 

I drop my old clothes to the floor not knowing where to store them. I don't have a bra, and really no need for one as I tug on the dress letting it sit loosely on me. A mirror sits against the wall, and I take the time to look over myself. The dress itself is soft against my skin, the straps thin on my boney shoulders. I love the length and the way it would fit my body if I was worthy of putting on weight, but as of right now it swallows me slightly and just reminds me of everything I lost. I re-do my pony slicking back my black hair that hits right between my shoulders. 

My shoes get tossed, the sneakers not matching the dress. I feel something scratchy under my arm pit and pull out a tag the numbers unreadable. Yanking at it, it snaps off and I add it to the pile. 

"You really shouldn't rip off things like that. It might ruin the fabric." His voice fills the space, my shoulders going back. I notice Raphael ignored my question moving onto a focus on his own. He stands behind me while I hold the tag in one hand, my other still against my waist where I held myself to see the tag. 

"Oh." 

Raphael comes to my back fixing the straps running his fingers over my shoulder blades that stick out just a bit more than the average person. He stands behind me as we both face the mirror, his focus on the metallic piece that changes the length. He pauses to watch me look myself over in the mirror, as its been a while since I have seen my full body. 

The bruises and scarring that cover my legs don't surprise me, neither does the dark spots littering my arms. The way my eyes sink into my head, the darkness underneath catches me off guard. The lighting in my apartment never showed me such detail about myself, and the jutted out cheek bones paired against my shoulders. I look sick. 

"Are you ready to go see the doctor?" His hands are placed on my shoulders, my hair moving to stand on end. 

"Shoes?" 

"You are not to wear shoes in the manor." Stone cold and serious, not a waver in his tone. 

"None?" 

"You are only to wear shoes when they have been provided to you, but for now you will be barefoot. While I work you will be allowed to roam as you please, however that comes with some restrictions that we will discuss later. Now, firefly, we mustn't be late."