Page 36 of Caged
“Don’t you ever grab me like that again, Monroe. Don’t you ever undermine my control. You know better.”
I swallow my defeat and avert my eyes as he slips a black leather G-string thong over my feet. I study him as he pulls it up my legs and into place. Despite the dimly lit bedroom, his dark eyes glimmer with ferocity. The air around him feels different – charged, in a way – like an electrical current crackling with heat. It’s not excitement or anxious energy I sense, but I can’t put my finger on it either.
He wraps a black lace skirt around the curve of my waist, although skirt is a generous description for this scrap of fabric, and ties the strings together in a bow. The lace pattern is near transparent, leaving nothing to the imagination.
“Almost ready,” he comments.
I turn to look at myself in the full-length mirror propped against the wall, and gawk with a mix of horror and amusement. Pivoting on the balls of my feet, I see my backside is on full display save for three shoestrings of clothing, the lace wrap skirt doing nothing to conceal my naked form. Discomfort bubbles in my throat, and anxiety rips through my stomach.
“Kieren, I don’t like this. I don’t want to…”
“You don’t want to what?” Kieren barks, standing behind me now with a leather mask in his hand. “If you’re going to leave me again, then fucking leave now, Monroe. You want to leave me on the most important day of my life, then go! Go now. Because there is no turning back after you’re initiated. Betrayal and defection are punishable by death. If you run after tonight, I’ll be forced to track you down, and I’ll have to fucking kill you.”
“Why are you being so dramatic?” I scoff, holding his gaze in the mirror.
“Because this is dramatic,” he answers, stepping between me and the mirror. “This is a big fucking deal for me, Monroe. I’ve been working toward this moment for three years. For my entirelife, really. I need you to take this seriously. You’re the president of the most prestigious sorority on campus. These freshmen women know you and look up to you. Some of them are probably in your sorority. I need you by my side. Please.”
Kieren’s pleas pull at my heartstrings. I’ve already abandoned him once. I don’t want to let him down again.
I nod my complicity.
“Thank you,” he says softly, followed by a kiss on my forehead. Rarely is Kieren ever this vulnerable, and it makes me ache for more. What I wouldn’t give to be loved by him. Truly loved. I know I would bleed myself dry if it meant I could earn this man’s genuine affection, and that honesty terrifies me. Despite all he’s put me through, I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with him again.
I don’t know why I crave him. It’s more than physical. It’s an overwhelming need to have his approval, his warmth, his acceptance, or otherwise, I feel like I am nothing. I am worthless. Discarded. Unwanted and unloved.
I feel like I am no one.
And I have always been no one.
I fight back tears because this isn’t the time. Turning to face myself in the mirror, Kieren lifts the mask, pulling it tight against my face as he ties the leather strings behind my head. I take in my reflection. The mask covers the top half of my face with a singular, thick black strap that originates at my forehead and runs along the middle part of my hair. It’s sturdy, not like a cheap masquerade mask you see people wear during Halloween. The grommet details and Sigma symbol atop the third eye give it an edge, but the detail that stands out the most are the pointed, dog-like ears.
“It’s beautiful,” Kieren breathes in admiration, standing at my back with his arms wrapped around my chest.
“I guess?” I agree warily.
“Or maybe it’s just beautiful on you. I had it custom-made.”
My brows furrow as I can’t help but mentally calculate the time it might take to commission such a piece. Months? Which means Kieren has been planning this for…
“I’m so lucky you’re mine,” Kieren rasps, interrupting my thoughts. He turns me around by the shoulders and takes in my finished appearance.
“Fuck,” he growls, raking his eyes up my exposed torso and onto my breasts. “So goddamn perfect.”
“Kieren,” I hear a male voice call from outside his door. “You ready?”
“Five minutes,” Kieren bellows back.
His hands leave my shoulders and I take another look at myself in the mirror as Kieren disappears into his walk-in closet. I’m about to make a comment about my lack of footwear when I see him emerge, and I freeze.
My entire body goes rigid.
Kieren has on black, low-slung dress pants that accentuate the V-shape of his abdomen, a matte black, hooded robe currently open in the front exposing his swirls of tattoos, and a mask that looks like it was resurrected from the pits of hell.
My eyes immediately flick to his grandfather’s bulbous gold ring on his pinky, and then back up to his gold mask in terror. Frankly, I wonder if I’m hallucinating because it looks like the ring and mask are personifications of Kieren himself instead of ceremonial accessories.
“Kieren?” I ask quietly. Did I just become the main character in a horror movie?
The gold mask with whirls of ancient lettering and gold horns triggers thoughts of a demon cow – like the bulls I would see in pastures back in Ohio. The mask tilts down and cocks to the side.
