Bloom: A Dark Romance (The Order, 1) Read online

  “You might get sore sleeping like this,” he said, lingering too long over me before he finally crawled off the bed and stood, “but you left me few options.”

  I didn't say anything, staring at the ceiling and trying to slow my heart and contain my breathing so he wouldn't see.

  “If you need to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, I suggest you hold it.”

  I could tell he was trying to joke, but it wasn't really a joke. None of this was funny.

  “I think I'll manage.” I didn't mean to say it out loud, but it slipped out.

  I braced myself for a slap, the pressure back on the bed as he loomed over me again, but nothing came.

  When I looked at him he was studying me, his arms over his chest. “Will you need something to sleep?” he asked. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow and I would prefer if you were not sleeping the entire time.”

  I swallowed. The answer, of course, was no. I wanted to shout it at him.

  “I'm not sleeping in here, ma petite,” he added when I didn't respond.

  My surprise must have shown on my face because he smiled.

  “You really are more expressive than you think,” he said, shuffling on his feet like he was eager to leave. “Even when you don't speak, your eyes give you away.”

  My eyes were back on the ceiling before I could stop them. I heard him softly chuckle. “You aren't going to sleep tonight,” he said. “You're too scared.”

  I heard him cross the room, back to the bag of many things. Who knew what else he had in there.

  He came back, sitting closer than he had before, near my torso. He could reach across me in one swift movement and have me pinned to the mattress if he wanted.

  In his hand, he shook a white bottle. “It's just over the counter stuff,” he said. “Lasts six hours.” He tipped the bottle so one pill spilled out into his palm. “This room is secure. No one in and no one out.” He said it like it was explanation enough to convince me.

  “No, thank you, sir,” I said.

  He shook his head, a tight smile on his lips as he shrugged. “No choice now, ma petite. You took too long to decide so I've made the decision for you.” His hand came closer and I instinctively moved away. “Open your mouth,” he said simply, like it was that easy.

  When I didn't immediately comply, he came closer still, so he was right in front of my face and I couldn't look away. “I would prefer you do it on your own.” His voice took on a dark edge and it made me momentarily squeeze my eyes shut.

  I heard him take a breath, preparing to either say something else or open my mouth for me. Before he could do either, I parted my lips.

  “Good choice,” he said under his breath, and I felt the small pill on the tip of my tongue. Before I could close my mouth, I felt the rush of cool water, a glass to my lips. He tipped it too far so a small amount dribbled out of the corner of my mouth, down my chin and neck.

  As he moved away, he noticed the water and before I could react his mouth was there, lapping up the liquid. My skin rose with goose bumps and I tried to pull away, but he was already off of me, off the bed, standing and setting the glass on the nightstand beside me.

  “I will see you tomorrow.”

  That was all he said before he took the three steps towards the door, opened it, and locked it behind him.

  I was alone again, in a bed, tied. I tested the strength of the rope and ties, but my weak wrists couldn't budge them. My ankles weren't any help either. Partway through my attempt to free myself, I realized that he would be able to see any sign of struggling to escape. I didn't think he'd be so kind after my second failure. My life was a constant battle of weighing options, taking the higher road, picking my fights. Now was no different; I could try to get out of my bonds and most likely fail—which would mean facing a fate worse than having to sleep tied to a bed—or I could go to sleep. I could let the pill drag me down into a world where these things were not happening for six hours. Six hours of peace before a new hell was brought upon me.

  Six hours of rest felt like a better option than twelve of fighting. I would need my strength tomorrow morning. If we were leaving the country, there would be a plane. If there was a plane, then there was some form of an airport—private, most likely. These men usually had private jets and planes. If I had to go somewhere, there was more of a chance of distracting my new Owner and slipping away, running free. If I was going to do that I needed to sleep now, fight tomorrow.

  That was what I ultimately decided. Fighting was important when you knew the truth and when that truth was wrong. More important than that was patience, choosing when to fight. Otherwise it was wasted energy and nothing more.

  So I let my eyes close as I waited for the drug to take effect, my arms aching, my newly sewn neck and injected chest throbbing as the numbness completely faded away so it was nothing more than a memory. There was no clock in the quiet room, so I had no way of telling what time it was other than the amount of light coming in through the crack in the drapes and it was still dark. The only light came from the other rooms across the way. Teenagers partying, lovers rolling in sheets. No one else was like me here. No one else had been sold, waiting for someone else to determine their fate. They were all in charge of their own lives and they were all most likely unaware of how grateful they should be for that simple fact.

  I used to dwell on things like this, let myself pine for a future that was always held just out of reach. I had learned that it was pointless. Worthless. A few meaningless tears over something I could not change at the time did nothing. When I was done crying my fate remained. I would be sold. I would be someone's property. I would be used. I wasn't a person; I was an object. A vase, a piece of furniture. Some pretty ornament someone displayed as a symbol of their power and wealth—for the right eyes of course.

  Still, knowing all this, my body aching, my mind racing with possibilities, my fingers tingling and my consciousness fading, I found a small, almost indistinguishable smile forming on my face.

  Soon, I would be just like one of those little lights in one of those rooms across the hall. I would not be owned forever. I would hold my destiny in my own unbound hands and I would spend the rest of my life in hiding, finding others like me—because there were others. Then we would take them down. The Grimm Order, the Suitors, the Owners, the Guards, the rich men and the people who sold to them, the Compounds, every last one.

  And it all started tomorrow.

  FOUR

  I didn't allow myself dreams. They were unrealistic and unfair. Cruel. There was enough cruelty in my life; I didn't need to inflict it upon myself. It was difficult at first, telling my brain to shut off so completely that even when I wasn't in control of it I could rely on the images within to be shrouded in black. They say everyone dreams and they just don't remember. I don't think my mind is capable of conjuring up images—nightmares or pleasant dreams. Not anymore. Reality was a nightmare. Dreams didn't come true. Once you knew that things couldn't get any better and that things were and will be the scariest you could ever experience, the imagination simply died. So instead of dreaming, I planned.

  People almost always talk about plans in the long term. Where will they be in five years, who they will marry, where they will work?

  I planned by the minute. The hour. Maybe a few days if I was lucky. Plans always changed, twisting to bend and form to my current reality. The goal, however, never changed.

  Survive. Escape. Survive.

  I had learned that I couldn't be attached to details; I couldn't hang on to one single plan. I had to be versatile. I had to adapt to any and all surroundings. I had to appear one way and be another. It was exhausting, but it kept me breathing. It kept my heart pumping blood to my brain.

  Therefore, I shouldn't have been surprised when I did not awake in the same hotel room where I had fallen asleep, my arms above my head and my mind a blissful, blank black vessel. I shouldn't have been surprised that I slept through someone moving me from the last p
lace I had been, changing my scenery and plan so soon after I had created it.

  When I first arrived at the Compound, the other girls would talk a lot about carriages. How if they were especially good, if they didn’t cry, complain or talk about the past, they would be allowed to travel in one when they were sold. This was a small world in which we lived. The more you had, even if you possessed more lies than the next girl, the more important you felt. If you bought into all the Order fed us, it made sense. However, once I was returned, I no longer believed the quantity of whatever we owned meant anything. A pile of shiny trinkets and promises amounted to nothing as soon as you left the Compound. You started out at zero, and most of the time, the girls never could get out of that place. They spent the rest of their lives getting smaller and smaller until even they couldn’t see themselves anymore.

  I myself had been in a “carriage” dozens of times. The car rides to and from apartments and offices with different Suitors. The few rides I managed to get from a handful of kind strangers the blissful few months I was free. They never made me feel anything more than owned or dependent. I would have much rather walked whenever possible. I didn’t like being out of control, even if it meant getting from one point to another. The movements of the vehicles always flipped my stomach, reminding me of where I had come from and how easily I could be taken back.

  Perhaps that was why, when I came to, 30,000 feet in the air, I was immediately sick. I had never before traveled on a plane or anything besides a car, and my body did not like it. Luckily, there was someone there to assist me the second every remaining morsel from the previous night made its way past my lips and into the trash bin held in the line of fire.

  When I was finally done, eyes watering and my body shaking with cold swear, the friendly face of a young male greeted me. “Not to worry,” he said in a strong English accent. “I remember my first time on a plane. It’s normal.”

  He was wearing all white, save for a navy shirt underneath his jacket, a matching cap on his head. From his fair complexion and innocent demeanor, he seemed younger than me, though through the fog and nausea, I supposed it could have just been because he was part of the Order, conditioned to be perpetually youthful like the rest of us.

  As he cleaned up my mess, I rubbed my groggy eyes and tried to get a look at my surroundings through blurred vision. I was on a plane—I knew that much. But already? I had slept through getting onto the plane? I was sitting upright, a seatbelt around my waist and the seat slightly reclined so I was in a more comfortable sleeping position. My head hurt and my eye sockets ached, but I forced myself to stay alert, to figure out how to make the chair sit all the way up so the room would stop spinning.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see multiple rows of windows lining the walls. I was grateful most of them had the shades pulled down and the ones that were open were too far away to take in much other than the blue sky and the fluffy clouds as we passed through them.

  The rest of the plane’s interior was simple and clean. Tan, black, and white. The chair in which I sat was large enough for two people. Just as I turned my head to the left—away from the window facing me—I spotted a large sofa taking up the other side, black and white pillows and blankets making it seem more inviting.

  The boy spoke again. “You can take off your seatbelt now if you like.” He walked back towards me with a bottle of water he picked up from a side table. “We took off about ten minutes ago, so you’re safe to move about until we land.” He was smiling, but it did little to soothe my angry stomach. When I didn’t move to unbuckle myself, he opened a cabinet above me and produced a paper bag, which he unfolded and opened, a box of crackers and what looked like chewing gum inside. I had only seen girls chew gum as rewards before.

  The boy reached to the left arm of my seat and unfolded a dark brown tray that had been tucked away and set the items on top. “The crackers will help settle your stomach,” he explained. “And if your ears start to pop, the chewing gum should help with that. It’s mint flavored.” He crumpled up the paper bag and gave me another polite smile. “The master has requested you use these things as needed. I am here to help you with anything you require during the flight.”

  It took a moment to regain control of my voice, and when I spoke, it was faded and raw from a deep sleep. “Master?”

  “Monsieur Lyon,” he clarified but I had already figured it out. My Owner. Master Lyon of House Chimera. For a moment, I had blissfully forgotten where I was and why.

  I thought it strange that he had left me in the care of such a young stranger, but then, we were in the air. Where could I possibly go where he would not be able to find me? I glanced around the cabin for any doors he could be hiding behind.

  The boy seemed to notice and said, “The master is in his private quarters resting.” My attention turned back to him; I was still cautious in moving too much, let alone unbuckling my seatbelt. “You have the entire cabin to yourself,” he said, gesturing with a sweeping motion. “There are approved television programs and films as well as books.” He gestured to a wall opposite the sofa to what I assumed was a very expensive television screen—I never had much interest in the things myself. They were loud and rarely had anything useful to say.

  Below it was a coffee table strewn with hardbound books. I expected the usual fairytales all people of the Order kept as trophies of pride, but when I focused I could read some of the spines. Popular books in Mainworld society like Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter were among them. Interesting. Did he think these would be enjoyable to me, giving me things I didn’t have at the Compound, or was there a deeper meaning?

  “Bathroom and bedroom are down the hall,” the boy said, pointing to two doors I could barely see from where I sat.

  Finally, I found my voice. “And Monsieur Lyon?”

  “Master Lyon asked that I inform you that he will see you tomorrow, when we land.”

  I blinked a few times, trying to keep my eyes from bulging. “Tomorrow?” I asked.

  He smiled, perfectly practiced as if he was instructed to do so—and he most likely had been. “Yes. Paris is quite a while away, so you’ll have some time to yourself.”

  This was the first time I saw a glimpse of something other than duty in his eyes. Something real that told me he understood my unease on some level.

  I gave him the most polite smile I could conjure from the depths of my empty stomach. “Thank you,” I said, trying my best to sound genuine. After all, it wasn’t his fault he was in this situation any more than it was mine.

  He graciously bowed as if I had offered him something better. “My name is Fox,” he said, already backing away now that his task was complete. “There is a button above your seat.” He actually waited until I looked up at the little red, circular button over my head. “If you press it, I will be by to attend to your needs. If you still feel sick in a little while,” he continued, “let me know and I can provide you with some medicine.”

  I nodded as my response, eager to be alone. “Thank you,” I repeated so I wouldn’t appear rude, lest he tell my new Owner.

  Fox seemed to understand, as he nodded once more and took his leave, backing away at first, and then turning around before he retreated down a different hall, opened a door, and closed it behind him.

  The digital clock above the couch read three p.m. before I heard any movement. I had spent the time gradually learning how to walk on a plane that was hurtling through the sky at untold speeds, making sure my stomach stayed settled, chewing so much gum that my throat was coated in mint, and reading. I preferred being stationary. The more I tried to move, the dizzier I became and the less I could actually walk.

  The same boy opened the door he had exited through before, pushing a metal cart filled with food and drinks down the aisle. He stopped in front of the coffee table and I set down the book I was reading to look at him.

  “I do hope you’re enjoying your flight, miss.”

  I sat up straighter the closer he came. />
  “No need to be alarmed,” he said in a polite tone. “It’s only dinner time.” He took a white cloth off of the plate, steam coming off of the food. He placed it on the coffee table along with a new bottle of water and silverware wrapped in a cloth napkin. The food consisted of some kind of pink fish, rice, and mixed vegetables. I hadn’t been hungry before it was in front of me, but now I couldn’t look away. I still wasn’t used to being fed so often or so well.

  The boy placed another folded cloth napkin next to the plate, then two small round pills on top. It was only then that I tore my eyes away from my dinner and stared up at him in question.

  “Antibiotics,” he said, finding another smaller blue pill within a bottle on the cart and placing it on the napkin as well. “And your cycle pill.” He was smiling, but I could tell he was nervous. If I didn’t do what I was told, would he be punished? Was he supposed to force me if he had to? I didn’t want to find out and I had few options other than fighting a useless battle in a confined space suspended in the clouds, so without further hesitation, I swallowed them and drank a few gulps of water to wash them down.

  The “cycle pill” wasn’t anything new. I had been on them since my first period at ten. The pills kept my period at bay, perpetuating my youth for Suitors, while at the same time ensuring I didn’t become pregnant without the proper approval of the elder Houses.

  The antibiotics I could only guess were so I wouldn’t risk infection from my new scar and tracker. A sick girl was no good to anyone who had bought her.

  The boy seemed pleased that I had taken them without protest, as he nodded once to me then disappeared. I had nearly forgotten about my new tracker. I hadn’t felt it all day, which was strange considering how the old one always made me dreadfully aware of it. Though it pained me to leave it, I got up from the table and left my food to head to the bathroom where the boy had indicated it was located before. My legs were still a bit wobbly, unaccustomed to being off the ground, and though I could balance fine enough, I found myself stretching my arms to either side of me, bracing against the walls of the narrow hall just in case.