Page 32 of Depravity

I don’t want to think about what liberties he took while he was dressing me. Why does it even matter? He’s violated me enough already for nothing elsetomatter, and yet it does. Every touch, every damned glance he gives me feels like further insults.

He reaches out his hand, tapping the space beside him, and reluctantly I sit down.

“You must be hungry.” He says.

I can’t even remember the last thing I ate but in truth, it’s been the least of my worries.

He reaches forward, picks up a sliced fig from the literal platter of food laid out in front of him and offers it up to me.

It’s stupid to refuse him. Stupid to not eat. I need to keep up my strength, after all how can I fight him if I’m half-starved? Those are the excuses I make, those are the justifications as I part my lips and let him slide the fruit into my mouth.

And god is it perfect. The sweetness hits my tongue, the delicate flavour makes me almost moan and I shut my eyes, forcing myself to get a damned hold of my senses. I won’t be that easily broken. I won’t be that easily bought.

When I open my eyes again, he’s studying me, his lips tilted as though he can read my mind, as though he understands every whirling thought in my head.

His hand sweeps my hair back, cupping my face in an intimate gesture.

“You’re mine now, Brynn. Let me take care of you. Let me love you.”

Love? He talks of love after everything he’s done? He doesn’t even know me. How can he profess to love me when he’s stolen me away, destroyed any chance I have of happiness?

I rear back, my anger spiking but he’s quick to lash out, quick to grab me before I can stand up.

“You’re my wife.” He states. “You’re bound to obey me.”

“And if, if I don’t?” I should keep my mouth shut. I should be smarter.

He clenches his jaw, obviously pissed off, and then he just shrugs. “It doesn’t matter what you do. You can’t escape me. You can’t leave me. If you fight me, you’ll only make this worse for yourself.”

“Why?” I gasp. “Why mmme? Why marry me, why dooo any of this?” I’m on my feet, clenching my fists, though I don’t remember moving. None of this makes any sense. None of this is logical. None of this should bemylife. “You’re meant to ma-ma-marry Giselle.”

He snarls at the mention of her name and then he’s up, towering over me, and all that courage I had seems to fizzle to nothing. “Is that what you want?” He asks. “Is that what you’d prefer? Me havingheras my wife?”

Quite honestly, I don’t give a fuck who he marries as long as it isn’t me but it’s too late for that, and besides, I don’t dare voice that opinion out loud.

He reaches out, pulling my body to him and with our size difference, I feel even more powerless. “I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you’d be the one I married, you’d be the one who gave me heirs.”

“I don’t wannnt children.” It’s a lie, a half-truth. I’ve never truly thought about it, because my freedom was much more pressing. You don’t think about starting a family when every moment of your life is about survival.

He tuts, placing a hand on my belly. “It doesn’t matter what you want, Brynn. You’re my wife. You’ll do as you’re told.”

There’s no reasoning with him, I can tell from the look on his face that he has this all planned out.

“So what now?” I ask, trying to change the subject, trying to calm myself. “What do we do now? Are you going to announceme as your wife? Can I go out, can I…” I trail off because I don’t even know what I’m asking, what I need to know.

This all feels so off, as if Conrad is keeping more secrets.

“You will remain here.” He says. “You are safe here. Too much is going on right now for you to leave.”

“Where am I?” I reply.

The weight of his hands dig further into my hips, and he almost preens as he says the next words. “My home. My ancestral home.”

“But I thought the pennnthouse…”

“That’s for when I’m in the city. This house is where we will raise our family, where we will grow old, where we will spend our lives together.”

He’s a mad man. A fucking nut job. Does he really think that we’ll have that? That I’ll, what, just comply and become some mindless, obedient slave of a wife for him?

---