Page 25 of Enraptured

My hands clench the wheel, remembering the brief glimpse of love and hope that filled the dark hole in me. For one moment in time, I was content. Whole.

I could have that feeling back again but knowing it’s precarious; that it could all end at any second, has me steadfast in my reasoning. I won’t be turning back. But she must find a way to move forward. Because I want her fiery passion in my bed and I won’t accept anything less than her giving it all back to me.

I try not to, but I’m unable to stop myself. My fingers tap the apps on my phone, until I find the tracker app connected to the device implanted under her wrist. She’s still in the barn? I’ve lost all ability to keep her out of my head. I swipe finding the app to the remote cameras I installed. She hasn’t found them yet, but they’re there, hidden in corners, under books, in the crease of a curtain…all recording her every move. Now, I stare at my phone as I connect to the camera in the barn, tucked under a beam across from the stall where she sits for hours on the concrete floor everyday.

Theos, she’s still too thin. I couldn’t miss how her ribs showed, how her breasts were smaller when I commanded her to strip last night. My hand jerks the wheel, pebbles spray up from my squealing tires as I hook the Rover around, pressing down hard on the gas. I’ve had enough of her self-pity party. She belongs to me; with me and it’s about time she gets over it.

I wipe my tears on the back of my sleeve just as the barn doors slide open. My spine stiffens but gradually eases as Mrs. Fitz carries a clattering tray inside.

“You didn’t have to bring this here. I was about to come inside.”

She frowns, squinting in the dim inside light. “I have my orders.”

“And you carry them out so well. What a natural sub you are,” I mutter under my breath.

She stoops, placing the tray on the floor, eyes blazing. She hates me. Possibly more than I hate being here.

“Why do you loathe me so much?”

“You’re not good enough for him.”

“Excuse me?” My head jerks back.

“Mr. Devillo treats you like fine china. He’s an honorable man. Any woman would kill to trade places with you and all you do is pout, crying like a petulant child, and turning him away.”

“You know nothing. Absolutely nothing. You are nothing but a brutish old hag. Tell me, are you drugging my supper? Stirring a sedative in my tea?”

“No, my dear,” she smirks, “and isn’t the truth something you don’t want to hear? Your response to him is of your own accord.”

“Who are you?”

“He didn’t mention it?”

I wait for her to go on.

“I was his nanny, albeit a young one. I was eighteen when his mother hired me. He was about ten. I’ve served him ever since. I know all about his condition. There was nothing more heartbreaking than a lost little boy walking over these very grounds, talking to himself because he had no friends to converse with. He was labeled a freak of nature. The villagers thought he was cursed. But you know who he was…who he is…a man who needs more love than most. And by god, you better pick yourself up and give it to him. Because for some reason, it’s you. Only you can help him.”

“I can’t help him. I tried.”

“Did you? Did you try? Or did you fold the first-time things got hard. I bet you fancy yourself a strong independent woman…but it’s a façade. You’re weak. Too weak for him. A strong woman would’ve stood by him, helped him when he needed it; even as he self-destructed.”

“You don’t know a damn thing!” I spring to my feet, get in her face and push the plump middle-aged woman against the opposite stall. “He did unspeakable things to me. Treated me like a bug, that he had no problem squashing under his heel. I hate him. I want to go home!”

“Aww, does the poor little poppet want her mommy?” The bitch taunts me as I felt myself tumbling, my emotions that I held so tightly locked since that night, gushes out like a tidal wave. I slap her stupid face hard.

“What the fuck is going on?” Christos stands with his feet apart, fists in his pockets as he glares at the two of us.

“Nothing, my lord. I was just serving Miss Jessie her breakfast.”

“Bullshit! Fire her Christos. I can’t stand her.”

“You are in no position to make demands my pet. But how refreshing it is to see you have your temper back.”

“Fuck you!” I spit, kicking the tray, uncaring the food and hot tea spills everywhere. I grab a pitchfork, swinging it around. “Don’t come any closer. I swear I’ll kill you this time. I hesitated during the storm, I could’ve pushed harder.”

“But you didn’t, sweet dove. Go ahead, stab me with it. Kill me, pierce my black heart and wait to see if it even bleeds.” He holds his arms wide, stepping forward. “But you still won’t be free of meagápe. I’ll haunt you. My ghost will slide over your body, peppering you with phantom touches you can’t fight. My ghost will take you and you’ll call out my name as you cry, frustrated I’m not there in the flesh making you mine.”

“Gah, I hate you!” I scream racing forward. But I can’t do it. The pitchfork clanks as it falls. He grabs me, spins me around, pinning my wrists above my head. We don’t speak as our mouths and tongues duel.

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