Her guard, her temptation

19

kaira astor

* w a r n i n g *

'You already took everything from me.' her broken, weak voice filters through my mind. 'Please, no, no.' her trembling sobs echo through my ears and I claw at my skin, claw at my clothes. I feel trapped in my own flesh. "I need to get out," I croak out the words and stumble to my feet, pushing my hand against the stone wall. My mind feels like it's going to explode, throbbing as white pain flashes through me. "Kaira," His gentle tone flints through the small, confined room and I don't register to the name. I'm Kaira. I'm Kaira Maliah Astor. The princess of Dalerin and heir to the throne.

I inhale a sharp breath through my nose and my eyes flutter closed. "Kaira, look at me." Father demands and I shake my head lightly, feeling utterly consumed by the emotions coursing through my body. Consumed by the words and cries hurled from Mrs. Queen. "We only need the truth, no more memories," He coaxes, and I swallow the bile rising in my throat. I need to leave. Tears roll down my cheeks and I dig my fingers into the ridges in the wall, my head spinning. "Just enough for him to confess," I don't want to. I want to claw the skin off my limbs. "You have a duty, Kaira. Let's get this over with." Harsh and firm, his words rush through me and I straighten.

My spine goes rigid and my shoulders stiffen, my jaw clenching. "You have a duty," He repeats, and I meet his hard blue eyes. Full of authority and demand. Alpha. "Just the truth, that is all." His tone softens, his eyebrows smoothing out, and I heave out a sigh, wiping away the tears on my cheeks and push my head into a nod. I twist around, gazing down at Peter on the chair, his face scrunched up in pain as he gulps down oxygen, his face white. "Peter," My father growls out, leaning his elbows on his knees. I'm Kaira. I'm Kaira Maliah Astor. The princess of Dalerin and heir to the throne. I step toward him, my fingers tremble, and my heart lurches in my chest.

My arm shakes as I lift it and place it on his thin, trembling shoulder, slightly pushing his shirt to the side, my fingertips sliding over his cold skin. A shudder falls down my spine, a stray tear rolling down my cheek. "Did you steal Mrs. Queen's money?" Plain and simple, my father growls out the question. I press my fingers into his skin, my nose flaring as I exhale. This is much easier when the person isn't aware of what I can do with my touch, and much easier when they don't try to lie. I press my lips into a thin line, glaring down at Peter as he clenches his jaw, his fingers balled into fists.

"Yes," He grits out through clenched teeth, his voice hoarse. My father's head falls into a nod, clasping his hands together, and leans back in the chair, watching Peter with angry eyes. "Did you have a knife?" His next question flows, and my eyes flutter closed as the bloodied knife skims through my mind, dripping. "Yes," Peter winces and I dig my nails into his skin, dipping my head and keep my gaze on the ground. I hate this, I hate this so much. I hate feeling like this. I inhale sharply through my nose, pressing the tip of my tongue to the roof of my mouth.

I feel my father's eyes flick towards me before flinting back to Peter's. "Did you hurt Mrs. Queen?" Bile rises in my throat and I grind my teeth together, my chest heaving with shallow breaths and I can feel the tears burn at the back of my eyes. 'You already took everything from me.' My knees buckle and I can feel the sob claw up my throat, scratching at the walls. "No." He cries out, his body wracking with sobs as he lies, pain surging up my arm and rests at the nape of my neck. "Did you hurt Helena?" My father spits out the words and I gasp in a lung full of oxygen, goosebumps pricking at my skin.

Helena. Helena. Helena. Helena. Helena.

Peter thrashes against his restraints, pulling at the cuffs around his wrists and I narrow my eyes, my fingers digging into his shoulders. He hurt her. I saw him hurt her. It feels like I hurt her. Every muscle in my body locks, straining so painfully as I push my fingers into his skin, nearly breaking through his flesh, and he hisses, his face scrunching up in pain. "Yes, I did." He croaks out and I step back, pulling myself away from him. Dirty, guilty, ashamed. I feel everything roar through me. "I'm done." My voice cracks open. I won't look at him. I won't see the disappointment on his face. I won't look at Peter. I won't allow myself to question whether I did those awful things or not.

I stumble toward the metal door, yanking it open with a creak and dart out of the room, my head spinning with unease. My entire body sways as I dash down the hall, the dirt and pebbles crunching underneath my feet. Sweat trickles down my back, my body shuddering as I hold onto the stone wall for support. Everything floods in through my mind. Disappointment. Fear. Regret. Shame. Hate. Disgust. I halt in the hallway, my fingers digging into the stone as I bend forward, placing my hand against my knee and heave, squeezing my eyes shut. “f**k, f**k, fuck.” Every single thing he felt, I felt. Every ounce of satisfaction that coursed through his body, coursed through mine. Every thought he had, I had.

I did that. “No,” I croak out, stumbling forward and push my hand to my chest, fisting the material. It wasn’t me. I’m Kaira Maliah Astor. “I’m Kaira Maliah Astor.” I mumble out under my breath. I didn’t hurt that fragile lady. It was Peter Smith. I climb the steps and stride out of the basement, dipping my head, my hair falling over my face, covering me from the guards in the hallway. Not that they don’t already know what happened and already know what’s happening to me. I push my clenched hands into my hoodie pockets and force my lungs to inhale and exhale even breathes.

Tears well up in my eyes and I bite into the tip of my tongue, picking up pace. I just need to get to my room, look myself in the eye in my mirror, take a shower to wash the dirt off me and then sleep. I need sleep. My chest burns and my lungs burns and everything burns. I keep my eyes lowered, watching every step I take and round the corner, my exhales shallow as I near my room. “Maliah?” I halt in my tracks, my fingers digging into the tender skin of my palm. Maliah. Maliah. Maliah.

My bottom lip trembles as boots step into my view, a shadow falling over my shaking body. “Maliah.” That deep voice calls again, shadows wrapping around me, consuming me and pushing all thoughts from my mind. That voice. I almost lean into it, lean into the sound of that name. Maliah. Maliah. Maliah. A stray tear rolls down my face. “I’m Kiara Maliah Astor,” I breathe out, my voice a mere whisper as I stare down at the black boots, shiver rolling through me.

“I’m Maliah.” I croak out, my vision blurring with tears as relief floods my veins. The person steps forward, their broad, warm chest bruising against my forehead. "Look at me." He demands and my fingers flex. "Get the f**k away from her, Zyran." A voice down the hall barks out, and I startle, jumping backward, but the man doesn't move, and I can feel the heat of his gaze flint over me. Zyran.