The Beauty's Hidden Beast

Now, with Muir on Vick's side and my lack of power, I'll be even more exposed, at the mercy of whatever scheme they might hatch against me.
The very realization filled me with a deep, melancholic dread. 
Was acquiring the favor of other men truly my only way to reclaim some semblance of control? 
Even if I gain other's favor, my every decision and movement will still be preordained by the desires and demands of those around me. I would still be turned into a mere puppet, with unseen strings manipulating me. 
The dark thoughts pierced my heart, leaving it heavy with a sorrow that seemed to bleed into the very fabric of my existence.
Vick's voice broke through my thoughts, "Precious, wake up, my legs are cramping," he whispered.
There was a time when Vick's voice, a mere whisper, would set my heart racing, every word from him stirring deep, unspoken desires. But now, I found my heart eerily silent, void of the feelings that once threatened to overflow. 
I strained to remember the warm sensation, to grasp onto even a fleeting memory, but it eluded me like a distant dream slipping through my fingers. My heart, once so full of life and longing, now lay dormant, unable to muster even the faintest echo of the emotions that had once consumed me.
Shaking off the daydream's fog, I met Vick's gaze. Glancing around, Curtis and Muir were nowhere in sight, and Nivi, along with her men, had retreated inside their rooms. Just as I prepared to stand, Vick shifted unexpectedly, holding me in place, his gaze intensively scanning my face.
Vick's eyes never mirrored the intense desire, the all-consuming lust, that seemed so common in other men. His sexual drive was always notably low. I know, because my attempts at seduction, frequent as they were in the past, were always met with lukewarm response. Our relationship, if it could be called that ─ a kind of acquaintance with benefits ─ never evolved beyond the initial stages of kissing and light foreplay.
He frowned, cupping my cheeks with a gentle firmness, his expression mingling concern with an unreadable depth. "Precious," he murmured, his tone almost pleading, "what's the matter?"
I turned away from his probing eyes. "When are you going to tell them?"
Vick's frown deepened. "You don't need to worry about that."
"You have to tell them eventually," I countered.
"I have plenty of time." He paused, running a finger along my cheek. "You can't let your thoughts run wild. I won't allow it."
I bit on my lips, his touch leaving an uncomfortable emptiness. "Everything just feels wrong. This isn't where I'm supposed to be. I have a mission, I have a purpose. You're just...distracting me."
I felt the tension in his body, saw the slight twitch of his eye. It was a familiar pattern ─ my thoughts drifting towards something greater than our current circumstances, and Vick, doing what he could to hold me down, kept me anchored.
His voice took on a hard edge. "If you have a mission, so do I. Mine is to protect you from yourself, from your own dark thoughts and self-destructive tendencies. And I'll move heaven and earth before I let myself fail. We are going to live out the rest of our days in peace and tranquility, and we're going to do it together. I don't give a damn if you are the most miserable person alive. I've seen enough death and destruction to last me a lifetime, and I will be damned if you add yourself to that list."
"Why pour your efforts into someone like me? The old man had already thrown in a towel, ready to pass on his position to you, regardless of whether I'm alive or dead. You can't save me ─ it's a futile effort, I'm not worth it."
"I can try." Vick let go of me and pulled himself out from under my legs, "Haven't Nivi succeeded in keeping the worst of you in check?" he asked with a hint of his notorious sarcasm.
"Nivi is my best friend, but she is not the reason for my stability. It's you. You know it's always been you. Your presence grounds me. You are the reason why I'm still alive, and I hate you for that."
"No, you don't," he smiled and ruffled my hair.
"I really do." I really do want to feel the fierce hate that once consumed me. But time has eroded that fire into nothing but a hollow numbness, leaving behind an empty void.
"Well, then I'll just have to love you enough for the both of us," he said, the smile widening to a grin. He took my hand and let me toward the washroom, where Muir and Curtis were filling a large tub with steaming hot water, "Now, get in. You need a good soak."
"What are you, my mother?" I huffed.
"If I was your mother, I would've smacked the shit out of you. Now, hurry up."
With a dramatic roll of my eyes, I undressed and submerged myself into the water.
Curtis handed me a bar of soap, "Yaya, use this. It smells really good, like honey milk."
"Thank you," I murmured, accepting the soap, "Where did you get it from?"
"Vick gave it to me." Curtis sat on the ground, leaning against the tub with his hand propped on the edge, watching me as if I was his favorite cartoon movie.
Muir stood by the side, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze trained outside the window.
"You can wash me," I said, throwing the soap in Muir's direction
He caught it, his expression unchanging, "I'd rather not."
"Then, how about you, Curtis?" I asked when Curtis used his tail to demand the soap back from Muir.
Curtis turned towards me, a bright smile gracing his lips. "Okay." I watched his every movement as he rubbed the soap across my body. 
Muir watched us from the corner of his eyes. I could see the slight tension in his shoulders, the subtle shift in his breathing, as he struggled to keep his gaze on the scenery outside.
"Yaya, are you feeling better?" Curtis asked. He continued to scrub me down, his fingers occasionally lingering over the curve of my waist, and the swell of my breasts, not missing a spot.
I nodded.
Vick approached Muir, "Sit down and let me have a look at it. I'm not joking," he pressed down on his shoulder, eliciting a pained groan from Muir. With a swift motion, he removed the cloak draped over Muir, revealing the expanse of his back. There, a vast, dark bruise marred his left shoulder. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the damage, the bruise a stark contrast against the otherwise unblemished skin, "Precious, care to explain yourself?"
"He is going to wound me and mark me with a permanent tattoo. Do you expect me to just stand there and take it? That's just absurd," I scoffed, turning away from them.
"And the bruises on his leg?"
"Also a necessity," I said, raising my leg for Curtis.
"And why does it look like someone ran a knife across his back?"
"It was a necessary precaution in case the mark came out ugly."
Curtis nodded as if agreeing with my reasoning, "I'm sure it won't turn out as nice as mine."
"I'm glad you understand, Curtis. I had to make sure."
Muir clenched his teeth. With a swift transformation, his right arm morphed into a wing from which he plucked a feather. Stepping towards me, he used the sharp end of the feather to pierce my shoulder, the tip of the quill breaking my skin, drawing blood.
I looked at the punctured wound without a flinch as a thin, crimson trail oozed down my shoulder. 
Muir got on his knees and gently pressed his lips against the wound. This answers why Vick used to suck on my skin so much. It wasn't because he was attracted to me but because he was just healing my bruises with his saliva. 
Muir's hands curled into fists as he held onto my shoulders, his breath hot against my neck. "What if it turns ugly?" he asked in a whisper.
"Then I'll just turn you into a rootless bird. Problem solved."
He scoffed, his breath tinged with resigned acceptance of his grim fate, as though preparing for a destiny more foreboding than death itself. "Looks like luck is on my side today," he observed, a note of surprise in his voice. 
I looked over my shoulder, watching as the wound began to heal; a breathtaking transformation unfolded. In place of the healed wound, a magnificent wing sprouted, gracefully unfurling with an ethereal beauty.
╔═══ Author's note ════╗
Guess what? I crossed paths with Yaya's future male in my vision today. (☉∀☉) 
He is an OC from the Beast City, and I'm low-key concerned you might ditch this novel over the sheer ridiculousness I plan to whip up again. ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)
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