Celeste's life is far from the enchanting fairy tale one might expect from a princess. Her father, a ruthless and self-absorbed king, leaves a trail of death and destruction in his wake. To seal alliances and maintain his power, he arranges for Cele...
The strings holding my dress in place were impossible to open with a broken body. My arms couldn't even reach the back of my back, let alone get the strings out of the rings. I feel uncomfortable asking for help, uncomfortable feeling his hands so close. Frankly, I'm terrified of his touch but have no choice at the moment, I'm not going to sleep another night in this dress.
I am fiddling with my fingers, not knowing how to behave. I don't understand why I let Novak get so close. There is something about him that makes me trust him and suspect him at the same time. He has something sweet, gentle. At the same time, there is a dark side, something underhanded. He doesn't seem to have any malicious intentions, something I'm not used to. Despite that feeling, I do not trust him completely, not enough to tell my story in any case.
Nervously I stand with my face to the burning fireplace. I am glad that Novak has lit the fire, I was freezing. The fire warms the room at a rapid pace, which makes it a nice room, cosy.
The bed was great, the best I've slept in in years. The blankets are warm, soft and smell nice too.
Novak's hands find the little bow at the top. The warmth of his body echoes against my back, that's how close he is. Something in me tends to take a step forward, something else wants to stay put and feel the warmth better.
Christiaan was not warm, not even a little. Everything about him felt cold and chilly, even his body heat.
Novak is a vampire, known to be cold, and yet I feel his warmth reflecting against my back. Something about him catches my interest, what I can't place.
I feel him pull open the bow, the strings falling down my back. As soon as his hands leave my dress for a moment, I notice that I was holding my breath. Novak seems to be hesitating whether he should pull the strings through the rings, keeps his hands away from my body.
'If you want me to take my hands away you have to say so.' He is careful and it pushes me to the facts, the facts about how broken and alienated I am from contact.
'No it's fine,' I reply sincerely. Although it makes me uncomfortable somewhere it's not the same feeling as Christiaan's hands, it feels safer.
Novak does not answer. With his words, he has not only made me a proposal but also a promise. If I would like his hands to disappear from my aura I only have to indicate it, another thing that is new to me.
Christiaan did not even give me a choice, not even a glimpse that I could refuse the contact.
I feel Novak hook his finger behind the strings and gently pull them out of the rings. Ring by ring it opens, giving me more room to breathe. It's only now that I can feel how sore my ribs feel without the support of the heavy dress.
I still have the nightgown clutched in one hand while I'm narrowing my nails with the other. The only audible things in the room are the crackling fireplace, the strings sliding along the rings and our regular breathing.
As soon as the top of the dress starts to fall off my shoulders I notice that Novak is almost at the bottom of the rings. I feel his fingers hook into a string one more time before I have to hold the dress to stop it from falling off my arms. Novak seems to be gasping for breath.
'Holyshit.' I want to turn around and ask what the intention of his swearing is but don't get the chance. I feel Novak's fingertips slide against the skin of my back, just along my spine. Very slowly, his fingers slide over a piece of skin.
'What the fuck did they do to you?' He seems to be asking the question more to himself than to me. He whispers, putting his fingers against my skin again and letting them go down.
I don't understand why I don't stop him, why I don't turn around.
His touch is so gentle and soft that I am too stunned to turn around. Somehow the touch is pleasant and raises my heart rate. It is a feeling I do not know, a kind of touch I do not know.
His fingers move from the spot next to my spine to my right ribs. Again, his fingers glide over the bruised skin. The touch makes me feel languid and relaxed, to the point that I let go of the top of the dress.
The top falls down my arms a little, exposing more skin. His other hand goes to the left side of my ribs and leaves a trail of touch there too. His fingers feel warm, soft and rough at the same time. The calluses on his fingers feel rough while the warmth feels soft.
The warmth of Novak's body comes closer as he takes a step towards me. His fingers move from my middle rib to the beginning of my bra.
The combination of the soft touch, the warmth of the fireplace and the tiredness makes me close my eyes. I almost don't dare admit that I enjoy his fingers running over my skin.
I shiver as soon as I feel a breath bounce against the back of my neck. It sends a shiver down my body that I am not sure if it is from fear or not. His fingers have stopped moving and have lingered on the centre of my ribs. His hands have wrapped around my sides and are holding me there gently.
My eyes shoot open as soon as I feel something soft, and slightly wet, against the side of my neck. Goose bumps spread over my arms before I realise it. Again I feel a breath against the skin of my neck, which makes me realise that Novak's lips are practically against my neck.
Then I seem to come to my senses and quickly take a step forward. I grab the dress, which is hanging in my elbows, and cover my upper body. Novak's warmth and touch have disappeared and it feels empty in a strange way.
Slowly it begins to sink in how willingly I have allowed myself to be touched without it killing me. My cheeks turn red from embarrassment and I hardly dare turn around.
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