MASTER SEBASTIAN

Chapter 7

His handsome face looked paler against the soft moonlight pouring into the woods. It was the law guardian from college, Sebastian. His black hair was still tied in a queue, but he wore a long coat now, the tan lapels slightly billowing around his leather boots.

He began to approach me and I could only stare, transfixed. Hard muscles rode the length his towering physique, his posture lined with power and quiet confidence. His dark eyes ran down the length of me and for some reason I instantly grew self-conscious.

And I might have been mistaken, but an intense heat lit up behind his eyes, burning brighter with each distance he covered towards me. When he towered above me, I realized what it was. Anger.

Struggling to find my voice, I said, "Thank you so much for s--"

He snapped, "What the hell are you doing out here on your own?"

Had I thought his voice sounded expressionless? Now, beneath the silky currents was fury.

I wetted my lips nervously. "I'm sorry." Why was I apologizing? "I... I had a party and my friend, s--"

"You could have died! Is any party worth your f*cking life?"

Heart leaping, I fought the urge to step back. On an impulse, I glared at him. "What do you care?! You're a vampire. The ones that'd been about to kill me were no different from you!"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He crowded me in until I was forced to take a step back, then more steps further until my back connected with the trunk of a tree. The fury in his eyes didn't relent.

He leaned close, his voice a silent menace in my ear. "Never," he said. "Raise your f*cking voice at me, Eleanor."

A sudden spike of anger had me pushing at him. "Oh, but it's okay for you to do the same? Who the hell do you think you are?"

A black brow hitched. "Sebastian Tsovich. I thought I had made that clear earlier today."

"That's not what I--" I cut off with a sharp inhale once something he said occurred to me. My eyes shot to his. "How do you know my name?"

The amusement in his eyes died, getting replaced with its customary coldness. He stepped back. "I do not think that is the question you should be asking right now."

"What are you talking about? No, don't answer that. How do you know my name? I don't see how anything else could be as important as the fact a stranger I've never met before knows who I am."

His eyes flashed. "Important?" he bit out. "How about the fact you almost got yourself killed?"

"What does it matter to you?"

"It matters," he said lowly. "Because your protection falls on me alone." With those mysterious words, he drew away. "You are going to pack up your things immediately and come with me."

A stunned pause. "What?"

Silence met my question.

The night was fast taking on a mystic air, as if the things happening now were unreal. I almost got killed, a law guardian who apparently knew who I was rescued me, and now, he was demanding I gathered up my belongings and go with him to wherever.

"And what if I refuse?" The thought hadn't occurred to me until now. My brain wasn't functioning as quickly as I would've liked it to.

He paused, irritation clouding his eyes. His expression plainly told the word 'refuse' was alien to him.

He said two words. "You won't."

I was taken aback by his confidence. "Why are you so sure I won't?"

"Because I have something you need."

"What...?"

"Information." Was all the man said.

Doubt sharply skittered through me. "What do you mean? What kind of information?"

Before I could register what he was doing, he took my arm and we were tracing, disintegrating into tiny pieces only to solidify in a different area.

My room.

My breath caught. For a moment I stood there, dumbfounded. When he started moving around my room like he owned the place, I snapped out of it. "Hey," I said, quickly following behind him as he took bold strides across my room. "What are you doing?"

With his presence in here, the room seemed to go ten times smaller.

He suddenly crouched down before my bedside table, opening up drawers. The moonlight outlined his huge form, a stray ray falling on his inky black hair.

Confused, I marched up to him. "Hey, that's my stuff--"

He straightened, looking at something he held under the moonlight, effectively ignoring me.

"Hey!" I bursted out. "Don't you know the meaning of privacy? You can't just come in here an--"

He turned to face me, his broad shoulders shielding the faint moonlight pouring into my cramped room. A sudden memory niggled at me. It evaporated when he brought something into my line of vision. My medications.

I made a quick grab for it, but he took it out of my reach, saying, "You know what these are?"

Folding my arms, I said, "Yeah, my medications."

"Why do you take them?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Saying nothing, he continued to look down at me expressionlessly.

Growing uncomfortable and just plain exhausted, I said with a scowl, "It's for my illness."

Something sparked to life in his gaze, a suspicion. He further asked, "What kind of illness?"

My frown deepened. "How's that any of your business?"

Voice plain, he said, "It's not. It's yours."

Frustration hit. "What do you mean by that?"

At length he stated, "You haven't been taking medications, Eleanor."

A growing suspicion slithered down my spine but I squashed it. A part of me whispered I didn't want to hear what he had to say, but before I could register what I was doing, I asked in a barely audible voice, "Then what have I been taking?"

"Poison."

Author's Note

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