Overdose Ch. 02

I come to with an acrid bitterness on my tongue. The room around me is foreign. It is quaint and eclectic; wooden walls coated in vines, a lopsided vanity, and a roughly painted green chest of drawers.

It is so unfamiliar that I question whether I'm still tripping.

The answer is clear when I sit up, head pounding. No way I'm still high with the hangover from hell. A shiver crawls down my spine. I'm definitely sober.

I try to calm myself. And that's when I notice my clothes. I wear only a dress, but it is unlike anything I've ever seen. Swirling different colours in the light, I cannot name the material it is fashioned from. It is beautiful and expensive-looking and out-of-place on my body. What the fuck kind of trouble have I wound myself into now?

The door swings open before I have much time to think any more on the topic revealing a vaguely familiar, tall man.

I bite back a yelp. He has pale blue skin and the slitted pupils of a cat.

I must still be high, and having the worst trip of my life.

"Jennifer," the man says. His words are clipped in an accent, one that I couldn't begin to place

.

"How do you know my name? Where am I?" My voice sounds weak even to my own ears.

"It is a long story," he says nonchalantly, running a slender hand through his dark curls. "We can get into it over lunch. I've had Besta prepare some food that is... suitable for you."

"Where am I?" I continue, pushing myself off the bed so that I'm standing in front of him. The room sways as I take to my feet, and I feel my legs give way.

He catches me effortlessly before I hit the floor, sustaining my weight with just one arm. "Whoa, take it easy." He rights me without letting me go, not quite trusting me to stand on my own.

I snatch my hand from his cool grip. "Where the fuck am I?" I grit out. "And why are you blue? And wearing stupid contacts?"

"I can tell you but I would rather avoid your freak out until after I've eaten."

His words hint at a nefarious reason for my being here. Panic hits me. I have no idea where I am.

I'm midway cycling through my options when he stares harder at me, annoyance piercing his gaze. "Well, I guess you decided to do it now, then." He sighs as if disappointed. "Sit on the bed."

"Why?" I ask reflexively.

He rolls his eyes. "Just do it."

I swallow my words and obey, hesitant. He draws closer to me and I instinctively hold my breath.

"Simply put, you are in my home." As if that much wasn't obvious. "My home isn't situated in your human realm. Welcome to Faerie."

I want to laugh, or cry, or something. Here I am with some random, crazy guy, trapped in his house. But I don't do anything, I don't feel anything. I just stare back at him.

"Which I also am. A faerie, I mean. I figured that much was obvious."

I say nothing. I think I'm in shock.

He takes my silence as cue to continue. "As for how you got here, I admit I'm a little confused myself. Although you should be lucky I found you when I did."

"Take me back," I finally say. Quiet. I don't want to query if any of this could possibly be true, I don't want to ask any more questions, I just want to go back to my shitty apartment.

He blinks. "I don't know how."

"Car, bus, fucking aeroplane, I don't care. Take me home. Please."

"Not that I'd even understand why you want to return to that place." His face morphs to disgust.

"You know where I live," I breathe. It shouldn't be surprising.

"I know a lot about you, Jennifer. Including the way you chose to live your life. There will be none of that in my house." With that, he turns and walks toward the door. "Come."

And what can I do, stuck in this house, seemingly far from home, but follow.

Besta, it turns out, is a short, stout woman. Oh, did I forget to mention the horns that project from her forehead? I am going insane.

She places a bowl of steaming liquid in front of me and I try not to stare at her ram-like protrusions. It smells innocently of vegetable soup but I have good reason to be distrustful.

"Don't you want to know my name?" The man lounges leisurely in the chair opposite mine. He seems completely at ease. It's unnerving.

"It would be helpful," I respond mildly. I know better than to piss the guy who hold the keys to my freedom off.

"Helpful," he repeats.

Yes, helpful to report to the police.

"I will not give you my full name but you may have my common one. I am Ashford."

"Right. Ashford." I eye the soup. My stomach is rumbling but the chances of foul play outweigh my hunger.

"Eat. You're practically skin and bone," he commands.

"I'm not hungry."

His cat eyes flash. He leans forward, resting an elbow on the table. "It's fascinating to watch you lie so easily."

I shift in my seat. "I wasn't lying."

He grins. "And again. Amazing. Now eat up."

I spoon the soup, stalling. My stomach gurgles.

"Jennifer-"

"Call me Jen," I cut him off, my irritation getting the best of me.

"I will if you eat your soup."

Reluctant, I force myself to eat it. The taste is simple yet familiar. It seems to be vegetable soup after all. I feel stupid as I continue to tuck in.

When I'm done, Ashford speaks again, "I'll give you a tour of the place, Jen."

I don't want a tour of the place, I want out of the place. I bite my tongue anyway and nod. The journey may reveal some escape routes.

The house, it turns out, is not much of a house at all, it is a lot closer to a mansion. I lose track of how many rooms we've entered and left and my feet ache by the time he leads me outside.

"I think you'll like the palace grounds," Ashford promises.

My breath leaves my lungs as we step outside. We must be inside a forest or some kind, but unlike any I've ever seen. Trees of every size cover the grounds, most green, but some are pink and violet and sapphire. Flowers of deep green and gold bloom around the base of their trunks, their chaliced faces holding a shimmering liquid. A gentle stream flows through the garden, shining blue and green, housing shadowed figures in its murk.

I believe him.

As simple as that, I know his words to be true. This is not Earth as I know it. As insane as I know it is, I believe he is a faerie.

He's smiling when I finally refocus on him. "Impressive, no? This palace is actually an island. The grounds stretch for a few acres, but around us is just sea."

"You're... You're really not human, aren't you?"

His smile widens displaying the sharpness of his teeth. "No. I'm rather far from it."

I find myself drawn to the stream. The way it catches the light as it flows is entrancing, and before I know it, I'm peering into its depth.

"I wouldn't do that if I were-"

I gasp. I didn't know what to expect, maybe some fish, but instead, I find Ashford's reflection staring back at me. Before I can investigate further, he drags me away.

"What was that?" I ask him, breathless.

"I wasn't going to bring this up until later, but I guess you ruined the surprise. The stream has the ability to show you... someone important to you."

"Bullshit. You didn't know me before yesterday," I say, pulling my arm from his hand. He doesn't let go. Ashford is stronger than his lithe body suggests.

"I have known you longer than just yesterday." I shoot him a disbelieving look. He sighs. "You believe I'm a faerie now, no?" He sounds impatient.

"I guess so," I respond, almost unbelieving my own words.

"Then is it so much of a stretch?" I stay silent. "I cannot lie, Jennifer. Believe the truth as I tell it to you."

His way of speaking is awkward, clunky. As if out of use. I finally manage to free myself from his grasp. "Do you see me when you look in there?"

His face hardens. "Yes."

"Even when I was... not here? Back home?" My heart stutters.

"Yes." He avoids my eyes.

"Since when?" This creep has been watching me? Without me knowing? I feel ill.

"I only discovered it a few months back. Another way to torture me, I presume."

"What? I don't understand. Torture you?" I want to go. I want to get out of whatever place this is.

"I think you've heard enough for one night, Jennifer."

"I said to call me Jen," I protest. No one calls me Jennifer. Not anymore.

"And I did. Now, bedtime."

He begins walking back inside before I can argue more. I follow closely on his heels.

"How am I going to get back?" I carry on.

"That's enough for tonight. Don't push me."

"Or what?"

He whips around, face barely inches from mine. That same severe handsomeness that he wore like a weapon staring back at me.

"I don't think you quite grasp what a faerie is capable of, little human."

I swallow my nervousness to scoff. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you going deny me your pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?"

His eyes go dark as he smiles. He shows teeth. I shiver.

"Do me a favour, Jennifer," he speaks carefully. Something in his tone is different, more deliberate and I can't seem to break eye contact. "Go to your knees."

I'm down to the ground before I can even consciously think to, hanging on to his every word.

"Remove my shoe."

I do.

"Kiss my feet."

I begin to close the distance. My mind is focused only on the cool blue of his skin, my whole body is taken with his simple command. There is no room for any other thought. No room for anything else.

"Stop," he whispers when there lies less than an inch between us.

I drop his foot in disgust, my cheeks aflame, as I scramble to stand again.

"Don't forget I can bend you to my will, little human. You'd do well not to forget your place."

I swallow the urge to cry as he leads me away.

***

"I am not sleeping with you."

Ashford merely barks a laugh before collapsing on the master bed.

"Take me to that room I was in before," I push.

"Is that a command?" he asks with narrowed eyes that scream tread lightly.

I think of that feeling of helplessness earlier, the inability to do anything but his will. It scared the shit out of me. I never want to feel that way again. I need to get out of here as soon as possible.

Surprising me, he laughs. In good humour, this time. "To think I was once the prince of Faerie. Now look at me."

I stay quiet.

"There are night clothes in the top drawer, to your left."

'Night clothes', I find out, refers to a flimsy white nighty that would barely cover my upper thigh. A flimsy white nighty that I would not be wearing. And yet, I'm so tired. Like this day has been a small eternity. The feeling of Max's body on mine feels like eons ago. I stare at the blue faerie on the bed and wondered how the fuck I was going to get out of this one.

"You can go naked if you want, I really don't mind," Ashford says.

In a flash, he is in front of me and my back is to the stone wall.

"You're prettier when you're sober," he comments. My hands curl into fists.

"Thanks," I grit out. "Take me to the other room. Please."

He grabs a lock of my dark hair and wraps it around a finger. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had a woman?"

My mind short circuits.

"I don't even remember if I've been with a human girl."

"Ashford-"

He lets go of my hair and traces my jawline with that same finger.

"You're different than I imagined you'd be."

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come.

"For a while, I thought I made you up. A sort of company. A face that wasn't mine or Besta's. A face I knew so well."

His lips replace his fingers and I'm shocked by his warmth. I am frozen in place. It takes until he works his way down to my collarbone that I can function again. With as much force as I can muster, I push him away from me. He barely stumbles back a step, eyes half-lidded. He smiles.

"What was that for?"

"Do you really have to ask?" I draw in a shaky breath. He keeps catching me off-guard and I'm having difficulty trying to deal with so many things in one day. Oh, and the fact that I'm in a whole nother realm with no way back home. Slightly worrying.

"I don't know how long I have you for, Jennifer. I'm not a fan of wasting time." He closes in on me but I twist out of the way, hurrying to put as much space between us both.

"I'm not a fucking library book. I don't have a return-by date. And I'm not here to appease you."

A devious smirk lights his face. "Oh, I wouldn't be the only one appeased, little human."

My face contorts. "I don't even know you!" I say, desperate.

"That never stopped you before."

It's a slap in the face, a low blow, but he isn't wrong. I guess he can't lie after all. He uses my shock to his advantage and is in front of me in seconds. His smile looks like a shark's grin.

"I could glamour you. Make you beg for it," he muses.

Fear is an icicle through my heart. I could imagine no hell worse than what he described. He must see it on my face because he softens, so quick I think I may have imagined it. "Not even I'm that cruel."

There is no time to respond because, in the next moment, he throws me on to the bed, as if I weigh nothing, then joins me. The weight of his body on mine is oddly familiar. I wriggle beneath him but my struggles prove futile.

I close my eyes as he draws his face near to mine, fearing the worst. Just get on with it and be done. His breath on my ear makes me shudder involuntarily.

"Second door on the right," he whispers.

My eyes fly open. "What?"

He leans back, pushing himself off me. "The other room. Second door on the right."

I blink.

"What," he begins, "you didn't think I was going to fuck you, did you? You know I could have you under me in seconds, like putty, but where's the fun in that?"

I can barely process his words.

"It will make it more worth it, when you voluntarily crawl into my bed."

My heart is thumping in my chest, its rhythm abnormally fast.

"Goodnight, little human."