I smiled. Seeking refuge in his storm.
CHAPTER NINE
Juliet
Two Weeks Later
The door opened.
His smile returned, but this time it looked almost hopeful as he took five steps into the room, shut the door, and made his way over to the bed I was laying in. It was late; I was starting to fall asleep. I wasn’t a good girl the day before, and all day today, I was tied to the bed, spread-eagle again. My punishment for throwing a temper tantrum was that he wouldn’t allow me to wear any clothes, and I was over being naked.
He turned a full-on smile against me like a weapon.
“I’m going to touch you now.”
My head hung to the side. I didn’t have the strength or ability to hold it up any longer as I laid there, waiting for the worst. I shuddered when I felt his hand caress the top of my mound. He was gentle and tender, smoothly running his fingers up and down. My breathing elevated, and I couldn’t control the tears, the confusion that was pouring out of my shaken body.
It was when I started to cry.
Break down.
Fall apart.
“Shhh…” he whispered.
At first, I thought I imagined it, but then I heard it again. “Shhh…”
It was low and vibrant.
“Shhh…”
That sound would forever be embedded in my mind. I didn’t dare say another word. The simple yet powerful sound of what he was implying burrowed deep among my bones and made itself a home. His hand continued to caress me in a back and forth motion. I wanted to defy or say something, but I wasn’t ready for the repercussions.
Within moments, I felt him start rubbing cream on the wounds of my wrists and ankles from being tied up all day. I hissed at the cool feeling against my open flesh.
“It’s cold cream. It will help you heal faster.”
More tears fell from my eyes. I couldn’t keep up with all the emotions coursing through me.
I hated him, though, I wanted his comfort, and I appreciated his kindness in this moment. He was the one who inflicted the pain on me in the first place, but it was because I was defiant and asked for clothing when he wanted me naked.
I made him hurt me, right?
Once he was done, he ran a cold compress against my face and then my whole body. It was refreshing, comforting, soothing, and I didn’t want it to end. It provided this false sense of reassurance, even if it was only for a few minutes. I let myself think that everything was going to be okay. He left the washcloth on my stomach, and water began to drip to my lips.
“It’s just water. You’re dehydrated.”
It dripped onto my lips, and I took as much of it into my mouth as possible. I was starving for it, and at that point, I realized that I had no say in what would happen, and I needed to follow instructions. The dehydration was apparent; he was right about that. I didn’t care that it was getting all over my upper body and the mattress behind me. I took in every ounce of what he was giving, completely greedy for it. When the water stopped, I closed my mouth to enjoy the moisture that replaced the dryness. I waited for his next word, his next move. My heart raced, and hysteria threatened to resurface while he simply brushed my wet hair away from my face.
I was covered in sweat, and the heat coursing its way through my body made it apparent how badly I wanted him to touch me. I could feel my nipples harden and my skin tingle as he stared at me, and he knew what I felt and what he was doing to me. I didn’t want any part of it, but my body’s reaction to his touch proved that he always had power over me. Now more than ever before.
I would never get over this, I would never be normal again, and I would never trust my instincts again after the way I was feeling from one simple drop of water, to one slow caress across my face. I craved any sort of human connection—no, I craved humanity amidst his depravity.
His grip tightened around my wrist, massaging it, trying to relieve my discomfort. I turned my head to the side, away from him. Not wanting him to see the effect he had over me.
“You can’t hide from me, pet.”
His forefinger and thumb rubbed at the most sensitive part of