Page 4

I circle her, gently taking her hands in mine, undoing the bindings before standing back up, gently picking up her limp body, her skin cool against mine. My dick twitches, and I curse myself for allowing my brain and body to betray me.

My skin prickles with goosebumps at the feeling. I’ve never gotten goosebumps carrying a woman. My dick barely gets hard fucking women. But something about her just lights my skin on fire like I’m a witch at the Salem Trials.

The skin of her bare thighs rests on my arm, and I groan at the feeling of the softness, the way it molds to my arm. Her insanely long blonde hair flows down to the floor under my other arm, matted pieces framing her heart-shaped face. Fuck.

I carry her over to the bed and gently lay her down, cursing at the lack of pillow and blanket. I growl under my mask and huff out a breath. “Fuck this,” I gruff out. I take my shirt off, slowly putting it on her small body. She swims in it, and warmth grows in my chest, the feeling tight and uncomfortable. I push the warmth out and sweep her back into my arms, carrying her out of the cells and straight to my room.

When I turn into the hallway to my room, I bark at the guard standing by my office door to get me new food. He stands there stunned as I carry the girl past him. I’ve never shown affection to anyone but my mother and brother.

Fuck. Why do I go soft around her? What makes her so fucking different? She’s covered head to toe in dirt and her own urine. But by God, she looks gorgeous. Like a Goddess of the highest ranks.

I settle her into my bed, lifting the sheets over her and drawing the curtains closed, leaving the ones in my bathroom open to still let the smallest bit of light in.

Settling down in one of my chairs that face the bed, my mask still resting on my face, I press the button under it to turn the lights on it off, the green glow disappearing from the room. It’s nine in the evening right now. It’s late, but I don’t feel tired as I sit here and let my thoughts wander onto her.

What makes her so special? I can’t get that one question out of my head. I don’t have an answer to it. I should’ve never said yes to taking her as a half-paid debt. I’ve been offered many people for debts, I’ve never once said yes until her. She’s different. Special.

I saw those big green eyes looking up at me, and I broke. She looked terrified. Begging me to take her. To save her. Whatever inside me that hates the idea of women, or love, or anything, she broke that wall that stops me from feeling emotion with one small look from her mossy eyes.

She’s the first girl to ever lie in my bed, hell, even be in my personal room. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been tangled in bed with plenty of girls, sometimes multiple girls at once, but none of them have ever seen or been in my room, let alone be in my bed.

When I get in bed with a girl, it is strictly for pleasure. I don’t cuddle. I don’t kiss. I don’t make love to them. I fuck them, and then I leave. I don’t have the feeling to reach that goal and throw her back in the basement. All I want is to sit here and watch her sleep peacefully for what is probably the first time in a long time.

I watch her sleep for a few minutes. The black silk sheet hangs loosely over her body. I hate that I can see her bones. Her ribs stick out from that sorry mistake of a shirt. The pit of her collarbones hollow. She has no meat on her bones.

I want to feed her, plump her up to whatever size makes her feel confident. I want her to have access to whatever craving she says she needs with her whole life. I want her to be comfortable.

I’ve sat here for several hours, my hands collapsed together in my lap as I stare at the ink itched into my skin. The black letters spell ‘DEATH’ on my left hand, with a small crown on the top knuckle of my middle finger.

My right hand is an array of smoke-looking designs. They stretch to the edges of my cuticles on all fingers. A small ‘L’ sits on the inside of my thumb. For my mama.

The sun will come up soon. My eyes droop as sleep starts to take over, but is wiped away when I hear the rustling of my sheets, letting me know she’s awake. I perk up carefully, trying not to make much noise, my eyes trained on the barely visible girl in my bed.

She pushes herself up on her arms, her eyes widening when they sink into the mattress. I like a soft ass mattress, sue me for fucks sake. Her eyes drift to the soft glow of the city lights that flow in from the bathroom.

She sits up slowly, throwing the silk sheets off of her. Scooting to the edge of the bed, her feet planted on the ground, but she wobbles as she stands up, making me stir in my seat, itching to get up and help her. She shuffles to the bathroom, stopping in the doorway when she sees what was causing the light. New York City is displayed by the floor-to-ceiling windows that cover the bathroom. The glass is crystal clear from this side, but from the outside it’s fogged.

Her gaze travels to the shower attached to the windows. It’s floor-to-ceiling as well, completely glass. I like to look at the city when I shower, sue me.

She walks closer to the glass, peering outside, her shoulder hiked up towards her neck, but her eyes show a curiosity I haven’t seen before. I can see them reflect at me through the glass.

Her head snaps up, realizing she’s not in the same room she was placed in before, and her eyes quickly dart around the darkness of the room. I have no clue if she can see me or sense my presence.

Deciding to play with her as she walks back into the bedroom, I flick the mask’s lights on, lighting the room with a neon green glow. I watch her head snap my way, her eyes widen in fear, indicating she hadn’t seen me.

I tilt my head to the side, crossing my arms over my broad chest. Pushing up to my feet, I tower over her, using my height to my advantage. I’m the tallest out of the family, standing at exactly six-six.

“Hi there,” I growl. At the sound of my voice, her eyes widen more, and her legs start shaking as she backs into the bathroom.

I walk towards her at my own pace, slowly catching up to her and her short legs. My head straightens as she continues to back up, her knees almost buckling, those wide green eyes threatening to overflow with tears.

My pants grow tight at her fear. Her wearing my shirt doesn’t help. Her fear makes me so fucking hard. I wouldn’t be surprised if I blow my load like a fucking teenager.

Her eyes scream fear, the mossy orbs pulling me in. I don’t understand the pull to her, but I’m itching to touch her, to get my next fix of her.

I close the space between us, pulling her to me by her waist. I tilt my head down at her, peering into her gorgeous moss eyes. My chest heaves as my breathing picks up. My fingers itch to just rip my mask off and smash my lips to hers.

My mind is at war with itself, and I don’t know how to make everything shut the fuck up. But one thought screams louder than the thousand others.