By the time we stop, Sebastian holds me in his arms. My breathing comes in slow pants, my skin as sweaty as his is, but I can't look away from him. I'm lost in the beautiful blue in his eyes, in the closeness of his body to mine, and all I want to do is push on the space between us until there is nothing there, nothing but his body. He holds me in his arms with surprising grace. My back is bent backwards, but he keeps me from falling by holding me in in his arms, leaning forward so that his mouth is only inches from mine. Sebastian's breath comes in slow gulps. I feel the tingling and heat crawling into my skin at the possibility of kissing him, and I concentrate on the silence of the room, the way both of our bodies feel so connected as we danced. I can still hear the music in my ears even though it's long gone now.

All of my instincts are screaming at me to pull away, to push him off of me and try to get out of here, to not feel anything but hatred for him, but the rest of me refuses. The rest of me wants this, this moment, this man. I can't put the feeling into words, but I find myself gravitating toward him despite myself, needing him in ways I can't possibly express.

I know it's wrong. I know none of this makes any sense. But something about this man… something draws me in. Something makes me want to trust him, even though I shouldn't.

"I didn't know you could dance, Sebastian," I whisper after a minute in between breaths, my eyes fixated on his, drowning in the sea of his blue eyes.

He smiles, one of those sad, fleeting smiles of his. "You don't know a lot of things about me, angel."

And then he pulls me up so that I'm standing right next to him. Our mouths are inches away, hovering there. The music has stopped. The rain has stopped. Everything has stopped but this moment. It's just us in the darkness of the room, and I can barely see anything but I have enough senses to tell that all I need is right here in front of me, right here for my taking.

"Kiss me," I whisper despite my protesting instincts, and when he does, everything is fire. His lips are hot and passionate, urgent even, like kissing me is the air he needs to survive. I kiss him back, harder and harder, and he matches me, and I don't even know what I'm doing but I can't bring myself to stop, either. My arms go around his body and his slip down my back, moving lower and lower, faster and faster. Kissing Sebastian feels wrong in every possibly way, and yet, so, so right. I press myself closer to him, moaning as he trails his kiss down my neck and toward my breast. He teases me at first, moving his mouth around the arch of my breast, and I feel the tingling race through my body as he, finally, kisses me there. My head goes back, and his mouth moves lower and lower, ever so slowly, down my stomach. I feel the pressure building up inside of me, feel my stomach gets hotter and hotter the closer he gets to me. I need him, I need him so bad, and I moan at the thought of him going there, at the desire that pulses throughout my body. But when he reaches the space between my inner thighs, Sebastian stops. His lips don't move. I moan again, wanting him to finish it, closing my eyes and falling back and back. "Do it," I whisper desperately. "Touch me there."

But he doesn't. He pulls back and stands up, blue eyes hard and passionate. "I can't," he growls. His breath is hot and thick, and I can see he wants to touch me there--touch me everywhere--but is holding himself back.

"Yes," I gasp, the need racing through me. "Yes, you can."

"No." He looks so conflicted as he shakes his head. "No. I don't deserve you, angel. I can't make you mine, because I don't deserve you. I've done bad things, really bad things, and I love you too much to let you fall for me."

My heart aches at his words. After everything, Sebastian is… scared of me? Scared of loving me? Scared of being with me? My hands shake. No. No. I need him. I need to have him. And in that moment, as much as I wish it weren't, I know it's the absolute truth.

"But I want you," I say, pressing myself up against him.

He looks up at me, shaking his head. "You're beautiful, angel," he says at last. His voice has this sad little edge to it, as if he's reminiscing about an old friend. "Did you know that?"

"You've told me, Sebastian," I breathe. I can still hear myself panting, but all of that seems to fade away now, because every part of me is focusing on Sebastian and how fucking much I want him. "You've always told me."

"I just wanted you to know," he says quietly. "I don't want you to forget that. Not ever." His voice is so quiet and meaningful that I can't turn away from him, no matter how hard I try.

"I won't," I promise, looking into those scorching blue eyes of his. "I won't ever."

"Good," he says in his same, rough voice. He looks like he wants to leave now, to be anywhere but near me. He pauses for a minute, not moving, our bodies intertwined for what feels like eternity. Finally, he sighs. "You know how I told you I locked you up here to save you… from the men?"

"Yes," I say slowly. I'm still reeling from what just happened. My hands shake at the realization that I almost let the man who locked me up in here go inside of me, and I wanted it.

I fight back a tear, self-hatred rushing in. What is wrong with me? How am I so desperate that I'd want the man causing all of my pain this badly? Oh shit oh shit. I can't want him. I can't feel anything but hatred toward him.

I bite my lip. Hard.

Sebastian's gaze is as intense as ever, trained on mine. "Well, it's true, those men do want to hurt you." He drops his voice to a hush, but it sounds so sincere that it catches me off guard. "But I also locked you up here so you could be protected from me," he whispers. "So we could be separated, and I could save you. From myself."

I stop. Stop moving. Stop wanting him. This is not what I expected I hear. "Why do I need to be saved from you?" I whisper. My hand starts shaking. "Who are you, Sebastian?"

He pushes me away, ever so gently. "I'm no one. I'm the man you can never want." Sebastian turns away at that and heads to the door, shaking his head back and forth and back and forth. "You don't want me, angel," he repeats quietly. "Trust me on that."

Then he reaches the door, swings it open, and steps through, slamming it behind him. But I swear to god I hear him add something on his way out, so quietly I think I might be dreaming: "Nobody wants me."

Chapter Eight

The next few days go by slowly. Sebastian leaves to look for the men who are after us several times, which I'm beginning to realize may not be a lie after all, and I spend my time while he's away desperately searching for an escape. I haven't seen real sunlight in almost two weeks now, and I can feel myself slowly losing it. My head hurts all the time and my muscles feel so weak. It's like the darkness has sucked all of the life out of me.

One thing is for sure: I need out.

I. need. out.

Sometimes, when I get desperate, I just run at the door and try to hit it, pounding on it and screaming and screaming and pleading for someone to help me, someone to let me out, someone to free me, but no one comes. I desperately slam on the marble door with my fists, with my arm, with my foot, and still, there is no one to rescue me. I'm trapped here--trapped for good.

Other times, when I don't know what else to do, I just crumple up and cry. I let my legs go weak and close my eyes, and let the tears pour out of me. Crying is healthy, at least. Crying makes me feel like I'm still okay.