The Betrayer Found Out
1/1
It was the best experience she'd ever had. Her soft body against his, both of them slick with sweat, sheets tangling around their legs, keeping them close together. Quick breathing and pleasure-filled moans. Frantic movements and urgent needs. But then they laid very still, and he kissed her forehead, murmuring that he loved her. And she felt fortunate that he couldn't see her guilt-stricken eyes.
But when his hand lifted to her neck, she didn't feel fortunate any longer. She tried to move so that he wouldn't feel the edge there, distract him with a kiss, but his fingers touched it, and the sudden hitch in his breathing told her that he had found it. Her secret.
He very gently pushed her away so that he could look at her. She wasn’t looking at him, her hand covering the back of her neck.
He whispered her name. She flinched at the sound. He was being gentle, still not understanding just exactly what it was he had touched. She knew, and she knew that once he did, everything would change.
But she didn’t want it to. Her mission had long ago become irrelevant in comparison to her feelings for the man next to her. But she also realized that once he figured it out, he wouldn’t be the man she loved anymore. He would be the man she had been ordered to seduce and kill. And her mind went to the silk purse left carelessly by the golden doors, and the ivory knife concealed inside.
She decided to plead with him, try and explain to him, expose herself before he figured out the awful truth. But when she lifted her head to look at him, she could already see the comprehension in his eyes. And too soon after that, the all too familiar hate.
“You’re a wind-up doll.” He hissed. And as she nodded miserably, he pushed her away, jumping up himself. She fell on the floor, wrapped up in the sheets as if they were a dress. She laid there as he wrapped his own naked body up and called the guards. Her cheek was pressed against the cool stone, her eyes blank. She could feel herself waning, barely feeling it when the guards’ rough hands yanked her up by her hair, and tore off the skin graft on the back of her neck, revealing to the air the truth.
A small dark gap stared out at them from the white alabaster pallor of her skin. A gap in the shape of a keyhole. The guards readjusted their grip on her arms. She couldn’t support herself, so they dragged her away.
And as she was being taken to her imprisonment, she looked one last time at the man she loved. But all she could see was his back, tense, straight, and unyielding.
But when his hand lifted to her neck, she didn't feel fortunate any longer. She tried to move so that he wouldn't feel the edge there, distract him with a kiss, but his fingers touched it, and the sudden hitch in his breathing told her that he had found it. Her secret.
He very gently pushed her away so that he could look at her. She wasn’t looking at him, her hand covering the back of her neck.
He whispered her name. She flinched at the sound. He was being gentle, still not understanding just exactly what it was he had touched. She knew, and she knew that once he did, everything would change.
But she didn’t want it to. Her mission had long ago become irrelevant in comparison to her feelings for the man next to her. But she also realized that once he figured it out, he wouldn’t be the man she loved anymore. He would be the man she had been ordered to seduce and kill. And her mind went to the silk purse left carelessly by the golden doors, and the ivory knife concealed inside.
She decided to plead with him, try and explain to him, expose herself before he figured out the awful truth. But when she lifted her head to look at him, she could already see the comprehension in his eyes. And too soon after that, the all too familiar hate.
“You’re a wind-up doll.” He hissed. And as she nodded miserably, he pushed her away, jumping up himself. She fell on the floor, wrapped up in the sheets as if they were a dress. She laid there as he wrapped his own naked body up and called the guards. Her cheek was pressed against the cool stone, her eyes blank. She could feel herself waning, barely feeling it when the guards’ rough hands yanked her up by her hair, and tore off the skin graft on the back of her neck, revealing to the air the truth.
A small dark gap stared out at them from the white alabaster pallor of her skin. A gap in the shape of a keyhole. The guards readjusted their grip on her arms. She couldn’t support herself, so they dragged her away.
And as she was being taken to her imprisonment, she looked one last time at the man she loved. But all she could see was his back, tense, straight, and unyielding.
♠ ♠ ♠
I've expanded this short into this.