Twisted - Esme Devlin Page 0,114
I won’t have you thinking I’m good.”
I tilt my head and try to gaze up at him. “Good?”
“Good.”
“I don’t think you’re good,” I tell him, head shaking slowly. “I think you are slightly better than you pretend to be, and that is all.”
“See, I’m not entirely convinced I like that,” he tells me, running a finger along my shoulder. “In fact, I think I preferred it before. The world only sees what I want them to see, and I wanted you to be included in that world. But then I let you in. I took you to a place where it could be only the two of us. I told you things that I’ve never told anyone. And what did you do?”
“I didn’t leave,” I argue, shaking my head.
“Really?” He begins circling around and I try not to let it intimidate me. “So why then, am I covered in pricks with a shaved head and bars in my cock? Why are you naked under that blanket, why is your face not painted, why are there thirty new girls beneath us right now?”
“I tried to fight him—the man who took me away,” I tell him. “When Celeste told me, I didn’t want to leave.”
“Precisely.” He stops dead in front of me. “So it wasn’t your fear or my boy growing inside you that kept you here. It was Celeste and her words.”
“You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing. Why is it so hard for you to accept that I wanted to stay for you?”
“Because, sweet girl, that is not the version of me I’m offering you. Our children? Negligible. Our grandchildren? Possibly. That person—the person you stayed for—exists fifty years from now. But we will always live in this world right here, which means I will always be the monster in a mask, and you will always have to suffer through that.”
The man is impossible. Utterly and completely impossible. Why can’t he just accept it?
“Fine. You win. But I’m not leaving you.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
“Wrong answer.”
“Because I know it’s pointless.”
His hand clasps causally around my neck and my heartbeat picks up. “Better.”
“Because I—” He squeezes for a second, making me choke on the words. He releases his grip slightly, as if allowing me a moment to think. “Because I’m scared of you.”
The hand slips into my hair and yanks my head up. His free hand rips the mask off, and before I can blink, he leans down and claims my lips with a force that rips the air from my lungs.
His tongue takes control of my mouth, and I open my eyes because I can’t believe this is real. It’s not dark. The fire is lit—I can feel it against the back of my bare calves. I can see him.
He pulls back, taking me by surprise and catching me with my eyes open. His jaw clenches and my heart skips a beat. He growls low in his throat and yanks the blanket off, ripping it away from me and throwing it down on the floor.
“So utterly terrified that you would dare to look at me, hmm?”
He wears his expression so plainly on his face. And it is a beautiful face. His skin is clear, the type of complexion that would be tanned if he sat in the sun for thirty minutes. Strong eyebrows sit over the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen, and the slight stubble does nothing to hide his prominent jawline.
“Is this really so bad?” I ask him.
His jaw ticks as he eyes me carefully. I see his eyes moving as he thinks, and it’s the strangest feeling. Like opening up one of those old electro-mechanical machines and seeing how all the moving parts work.
“I’m not going to make love to you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says, tone laced with arrogance.
I’m about to lift my eyebrow and tell him I never expected him to, in the same haughty tone he used with me.
But I stop myself.
Instead, I take a cautious step back and pretend there’s a lump in my throat the size of a strawberry that needs to be swallowed. “What…” I let my words trail off as I glance around the room. “What are you going to do me?”
Maybe if I can act scared enough, he won’t feel the need to hide himself all the time.
I watch his face carefully, pleased with myself when his eyes light up. A smirk plays on his lips as he matches my step. “Oh, you are a clever little girl