Page 33 of Enraptured

“What will happen if I yank it out?”

“Do you really want to find outagápe?”

No. No I don’t.

He unstraps my hands, allowing me to sit.

Holy fuck.

He pierced me with a diamond dove.

“It’s classier than a tattoo, eh?” The bastard smirks, actually proud of the ‘art’ causing me so much pain. But as he unshackles my feet and I move to stand; the natural movement causes it to sing with pleasure and pain. I catch my breath, biting my lip. But it’s too late. He noticed. His deep chuckle floats down the spiral stairs as I flee the solar for my bedroom.

Sobs rack my body as I huddle under the thick duvet. Wind rattles against the old windows.

Who knew hell wasn’t an inferno? It’s cold, drafty—often quiet. Leaving you with nothing but the thoughts and memories of who you were before existing in such a place.

Hell is just existing.

I cry harder, despite everything…some small part of me still longs for him back. The man he was for a sliver in time. But even I can’t reach that man. He’s been swallowed up by the cruel, dark, cynical man who is determined I’ll never leave his side.

CHRISTOS

My hands clench the lowball half full of whiskey. I banished her from my heart, but she’s under my skin. I’m a sick fuck for getting harder than I ever thought possible as she laid spread-eagle screaming as her sweet cunt opened wide with the mark of my possession sparkling from her bud.

I can’t stop now. Some unseen force propels me forward. Every time she thinks she’s about to break, she takes more.

It’s admirable.

She’s remarkable.

The strongest human spirit I might have ever met. I should’ve never taken things this far. You don’t need feelings to know right from wrong. But every time I push her past a new limit, my heart pumps faster, my body releases endorphins that makes my brain feel high. Screw the drugs, she’s my drug. The adrenalin that runs through me every time we fuck/fight alters my brain in ways those white pills never did.

And that’s why I can’t let my dove out of her cage. I stole her entire future from her. It disappeared in a wisp of smoke. But stealing hers gave me one. I move off the couch and pick up a few logs from the brass bucket. I toss them in the blaze roaring in the oversized hearth. Sparks fly up the chimney as the logs pop. Turning away from the heat, I pick my phone up from the side table, scrolling to open my security app. I tap the icon for the camera sewn into a piece of velvet in the corner of her canopy bed.

She’s recklessly sobbing. Crying for her parents, for California…hell anyone but me. My name never once falls from her lips.

“Fuck!” My hand hurls the glass of whiskey into the fireplace. It explodes as it hits the back of the brick wall. The blaze billows out of the fireplace before pulling back in. Shards of broken glass sparkle like diamonds in the flame.

I overplayed my hand. I came about this all wrong. I wanted to punish her for betraying my trust, for making my dead heart crave love. But all I’m doing is punishing myself by making sure that the one thing I want, never wants me back.

I played the wrong game with her.

I should’ve been researching how to make a woman fall in love. If I had—that would have been the sweetest revenge. Making her love me, trapping her with it. But even a soulless creature like myself realizes it’s too late for that. She could never love me now. I’ve gone way too far to ever hope for that.

---