His For A Price |z.h|

14

Niall stared at him, stunned. For a moment his mind ran riot as he told himself he could not be serious - could not possibly mean those unkind, cynical remarks that he'd almost negligently tossed at him. 

Not after what had just happened between them - surely? All that passion and glory reduced to the level of a - trade-off? It couldn't be true. 

But there was none of the former tenderness in the level dark gaze and no hint of amusement to soften the hard lines of the mouth that had set him ablaze with kisses such a short while before. 

He found his voice at last. "You really think that is why -" 

"Of course," Zayn interrupted coldly. "What other reason could there be for such a transformation? Or did you think I would share your naivete and assume your surrender was genuine and without strings?" He shook his head almost grimly. "You misjudge me, my sweet heart. "

And you, Niall thought, misjudge me. Completely. Because I gave you my heart as well as my body just now. God knows, I didn't expect love in return but if you'd spoken just one word of kindness my soul would have followed and I'd have been yours forever. 

There were tears, thick and painful in his chest and burning his throat, but he would not weep in front of Zayn in case he thought it was just another play. Another trick to have his way over Shanaya. 

Niall said, his voice shaking a little. "Yes, Mr. Malik. It seems that I have made a mistake. But it will never happen again." 

It was torture having to leave the bed, naked under his sardonic gaze, in order to retrieve his shawl, but he did it, wrapping himself closely in its folds with hands that trembled, then walking to the door without looking back. 

He managed to regain his room before he began to cry, throwing himself across the bed, and stifling his sobs in his pillow. 

And when the first storm had subsided, he got up stiffly and went to the bathroom, standing under the warm torrent of the shower, letting it wash away all trace of anything and everything that had happened that night. 

Wishing at the same time that it was possible to remove the memories and the regrets as easily as the tear-stains. 

I should have known, he thought wearily as he dried himself. Should have realized what Zayn would think when I just - turned up in his bedroom like that. Except, of course, I wasn't thinking because I totally forgot to use any reason and let myself be carried away by the force of my emotions. By my need for him. 

I was stupid - stupid  - and no that it's all gone wrong I have no one to blame but myself. 

But, dear God, I wanted him so badly. Wanted to know at last what it was to be his. And to give him everything. 

Instead, he now had to come to terms with the inescapable fact that becoming Zayn's sexual partner for a brief while did not make him anything noble, he thought bitterly, and it never would. 

He'd proved nothing except that he was still a child - a pathetic child, like poor little Shanaya, hoping each day for a love that would never be offered. And having to wake each morning to the somber reality of disappointment. 

He chose a clean nightdress, straightened the disordered bed and crept under the covering sheet to lie wakeful and wretched, his awakened body restless. And it was not until dawn streaked the sky that he finally fell into an uneasy sleep. 

It was late when he awoke, and as he sat pushing his hair out of his eyes, he saw the bedroom door open and Hara appear almost as if she's received some signal.