Page 55 of For Love & Torture
I shake my head as I look into his. A fire is behind those dark-as-night eyes. I’m not sure if it’s a reflection from the giant fire burning in the nearby fireplace or if it’s real, but it’s kind of beautiful. “I love it. What is it and where can I get a lifetime supply of the stuff?”
His long fingers drum on the table, taking my attention as they make sharp sounds. I find his nails are long, filed into sharp points, and painted black.
So emo. Funny I didn’t notice them before.
“Only I can get that particular drink for you, my pet. But I’ll get you all you want. Don’t worry.” Placing his hand over the top of my empty glass, my jaw drops as I watch it refill.
At first, I’m amazed, then I get it. “Magic?”
“Something like that.” When he moves his hand off my glass, I find my mouth watering in anticipation of swallowing more of the mystical liquid into my mouth. But I hold off, waiting for him to drink too.
I watch his large hand wrap around his wineglass, pulling it his lips, but he takes only a sip. The thick red liquid sticks to his lips, and he runs his long tongue over them to lick it all away.
I find I’m biting my lip, craving to lick that wine off his lips. Starving for the wine that must be coating his tongue.
I want it. I want it. I want it.
My eyes are glued to his lips as someone comes in, taking my attention away. “Ah, dinner,” Bart says, as another tall, gorgeous woman comes in with a tray. Two silver domes are on it, and she places the covered plates in front of him first and then me.
Without a word, she leaves, and I smile at Bart. “Is that all you employ? Gorgeous women, who are above average height?”
“Employ?” he pulls the dome off and puts it to the side of his plate. “I don’t pay them. They take care of me because they want to.”
Perplexed, I ask, “If you have this many women waiting on you hand and foot, why did you feel the need to join the Dungeon of Decorum?”
Picking up a sharp knife with a carved bone handle he nods at my still closed dome. “Are you going to see if the steak is cooked to your liking?”
I can see he’s avoiding my question, so I take the silver dome off. The steak is very rare, blood pools around it and a scoop of frosty white mashed potatoes look creepy as it is engulfed by the pool of blood. “Cooked? I don’t know if you can call this cooked.”
He cuts a piece of his steak and holds it out to me. “Try it.”
One drop of blood drips off it, landing on my plate. I don’t really want to put that into my mouth, but he leans forward and looks into my eyes as he touches my lips with the warm meat.
My mouth opens, and he places the meat on my tongue. Immediately it melts in my mouth, and I moan with how wonderful it tastes. “Oh, you’re right, Bart.”
Picking up my own fork and knife, I dig into my steak and devour it as if I haven’t eaten in a week. Even the potatoes taste like nothing I’ve ever had, and I make sure to coat them in the juices before I put them in my mouth. Before I know it, my plate is empty, and I eye the full glass of wine. Looking at Bart, I wait for him to finish his meal before I pick up the glass and down it the same way I did the first one.
His eyes twinkle as he watches me. “You have an appetite much like mine.” He downs his glass too then stands up, offering me his arm. “Come, let’s take a stroll.”
As I get up, I can’t help but notice how he looks at my nearly naked body. He sucks in his breath as I take his arm. “Is this your permanent home, Bart?”
“It is. It’s my very permanent home, my pet.” He walks with me, his feet touching the floor, unlike before.
“Are you a magician?” I have to ask as many things about him and this place seem unreal, and that’s the only logical reason I can think of.
“No, I’m not a magician.” He stops and turns me around. I find we’re on a balcony with the wind whipping around us.
“How?” I look around and see the night sky but there’s no moon, and I’m sure there was a full one earlier. “Bart, where are we?”
“You’re home, Isabel. Finally, you are home where you’ve always belonged.” He smiles, and I see those sharp canines again, and this time a chill runs through me. A deep, dark chill that goes straight to my soul.
“Bart, I belong to Grant. I do. You have to take me back.” I try to take a step back and find there’s nothing behind me. I begin to fall. The dark stones of the castle flash as I fall past them.
I scream as I know this can’t end well and terror fills me. Then I stop only a few inches from the ground and feel my body floating up. Looking up, I see Bart is standing there on the balcony, watching me as I’m brought back to him.
He reaches out and takes my hands, pulling me back to the narrow ledge. “Who is it you belong to, pet?”
The words are lodged in my throat as I struggle to say I belong to Grant. Nothing can come out, and I claw at my throat as it feels as if I’m being choked. Until I think the thought I know Bart wants to hear.
Suddenly the pressure is gone, and I cough then whisper the words he wants—demands—to hear. “You, Master. I belong to you.”
His long fingers flow up my arms as he smiles. “Yes, you do, Isabel. You are mine. Only mine. And this is your home now. Your only home.”
He has to be playing with me. He just has to. “Can I leave this home to go to work?”
With a slow shake of his head, I know I’m fucked. Grant was right. This guy is evil as shit, and I’ve made a terrible mistake.
