Cry Me a River |✔️

Chapter 65- To Hell

^^This song created the tone for this chapter. It's SO good O.O^^

"We're all in the same game; just different levels. Dealing with the same hell; just different devils."

Chapter 65

To Hell

Luna's POV

My hands clammed up, fingers anxiously playing with the bedsheets. Though, within I was calm. Like a motionless ocean shook by a sudden wind. River's body was reacting, shaken. Yet to what, I did not know. He was silent, too silent.

The click of a door resounded through the room in a chiming mantra. My head whipped to the side, already on edge. A mop of raven hair swirled my vision as the back of a man met my gaze, facing the door, he pushed it shut and turned to face me.

In his hand held a steaming cup of tea. His shoes tapped lightly against the floor as he approached the bed. My fingers tightened into the sheets, watching him through blown eyes.

He placed the cup on the night table beside me and lowered himself to the bed to sit beside my feet. His hand rose, fingers brushing against my cheeks lightly. A burning sensation ran down my body as he did so. A chipped whimper escaped my throat, a strange garbled sound that startled both him and me simultaneously.

"A-Alastair," I gasped out, fingers tightening against the sheets as I bent forward, short of breath.

"What's wrong?" His head bent to meet my eyes, "you're paling."

"I-I don't know," I panted. A heat so strong traveled down my body, boiling liquid ran through my veins, nearly setting me on fire. And it was then that I realized what was happening. Though I wouldn't dare declare it after Alastair's former disgust by the topic.

But that could only mean one thing.

My head shot up, eyes latching onto Alastair's, searching. Hoping.

Please, please let it be.

A little yellow spark shone beside his pupil. A light welcoming in my dark world. My breath caught in my throat and I fell forward, crawling closer to Alastair in hopes of a better look.

Alastair's brows knitted, "Luna?"

And like that, the spark demolished along with the previous, all-consuming heat. All that remained in its scorching trail was frost. A cold, broken chip in my heart. Sharp and unyielding.

I felt back onto the bed, breath back to its usual pace as my head floated, aimlessly peering up at the cream-colored ceiling.

The scent of sweet cinnamon wafted past my nose as a cup of tea was brought to my face nearly startling me off the bed.

"I brought you this," Alastair urged.

I eyed the cup before sitting up and taking it into my hands. It was still hot, a light trail of steam rising from the cup and spreading the scent of cinnamon across my face as I leaned forward to peer at it.

I licked my lips before bringing it to my mouth and taking a light sip. A groan escaped my mouth as the liquid heat ran down my body, leaving a heated trail as it traveled to my stomach.

A gasp rang in front of me. My head lifted from the cup to tilt my head.

"Luna, that's too hot. You need to blow on it first."

Was it?

I peered down at the steaming cup.

Compared to the previous heat I've encountered, this was nothing.