Page 32

I shifted, inching closer, heart hammering. My mind split in two. One half terrified, the other calculating, searching for any angle, any weakness, any way to survive.

I let my hand slide up his thigh, and leaned in, pressing my lips to the side of his neck. His skin was warm, stubble rasping my mouth. I made my voice soft, submissive, the way I’d learned men liked.

“Let me make you happy,” I murmured. “I want to be your good girl, Malakar. I want to make you feel good. Please.”

He shivered. I felt the muscles ripple under my hand as he closed his eyes. His fingers tangled in my hair, holding me close, but not hurting—yet.

“You’re smart,” he said quietly. “So smart, bluebird. So soft.”

I kept kissing his neck, working my way up his jaw. I let my body lean against him, turning my fear into something that might look like desire. I didn’t know if I was fooling him, or myself.

His breathing changed—faster, harsher, needier. For a moment I could almost believe he was going to let himself be gentle. I pressed closer, lips at his ear, whispering, “I want you, Malakar. I want only you. I’ll do anything you want.”

It worked, for a heartbeat. His hand gentled in my hair, his posture softening.

But then he stiffened. His head jerked up, eyes going wide, wild. He looked past me, to the corner of the basement, pupils huge and black.

“No. No! Not now. Not again. Leave me alone. Get out! Get OUT!” His voice was loud, frantic, tearing at the silence.

He stood, shoving away from me, and in one violent motion, he kicked the tray of food and water across the room. Glass shattered, water spraying across the bricks, bread and limp vegetables scattering into filth.

I flinched backwards, heart leaping. Panic flooded me.

“Stop it!” he screamed, not at me, but at something I couldn’t see. “You ruin everything! Get out of my head! She’s mine! You can’t have her!”

He was unraveling—coming apart right in front of me. He paced, hands at his head, muttering, cursing, voice rising and falling. His eyes darted to the corners, searching for ghosts, for monsters only he could see.

I pressed into the brick, knees to my chest, trying to disappear. My mind raced. Was this real? Was this another game? How did I make him stop?

Tears threatened to fall, but I bit them back.

“Malakar!” I pleaded, voice tiny and desperate. “Please, it’s just me. I’m here, I’m not leaving, I swear I’m not like them, I won’t ever leave, please⁠—”

He didn’t seem to hear me. He was lost in his own storm, pacing, muttering, wringing his hands. I saw the flicker of something broken in his eyes, a crack that ran deep, all the way back to whatever made him this way.

I tried again, louder, “I’ll do anything, please, just come back, Malakar. I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want, just let me help you⁠—”

Suddenly he stopped. He turned to me, his face a mask of anguish, sweat streaming down his temples, his hands trembling.

“I want to be good,” he said, voice breaking. “I want to make you feel good, bluebird. But the dark—sometimes the dark is too strong. Sometimes it pulls me under. Into the vortex. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to hurt you...”

I crawled to him, hands shaking, heart in my throat. My movements were cautious, careful not to startle. I reached for his belt, fingers fumbling, and slid my hand inside.

I wrapped my hand around his cock, feeling it twitch, harden. I stroked him, my thumb tracing circles, trying to ground him in the present, in me—not the ghosts, not the dark.

He gasped, hips jerking involuntarily. His hands found my hair again, not rough this time, but desperate, clinging.

I lifted my lips to his ear, whispering, “You’re so strong, Malakar. You’re still here. I want you. I need you. Let me take care of you.”

“You think you can trick me, don’t you?” His voice was low. “Just like mother. Just like her. Always pretending. Always lying.”

He grabbed a strip of the sheet from the bed, ripped it, and shoved it between my lips, tying it tight behind my head. The fabric was rough. My jaw ached. I couldn’t scream, could barely breathe.

He spat on his hand, jerked himself, and without warning, shoved inside me from behind. The pain was immediate, sharp, tearing. My body locked up, every muscle screaming. The chain dug into my ankle as my legs splayed helplessly on the bed.

His breath was erratic in my ear, words coming out in snarled bursts. “You think you can fool me? Huh?”

His thumb pressed against my ass, probing, forcing its way in. I never put anything in my ass before, so this hurt. The pain was excruciating, like stabbing shock waves. It was only his finger, but it tore me apart. I cried out and screamed for him to stop, but he wasn’t listening. He wasn’t here.