Twisted - Esme Devlin Page 0,61
word, after everything we did, wouldn’t hurt me.
“No,” I tell him. Maybe it’s a lie, I don’t even know, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking otherwise. “But it’s rude. And it’s a game. And I’m so tired of your games.”
He’s quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room coming from the water hitting against the tiles and my own breathing.
Then I hear the thud of metal as something heavy hits the floor.
There are only two things that could be. One is the gun he tucked into his belt, and the other is the mask that never leaves his face.
“But you won,” he says, taking a step in so we’re standing chest to chest.
I can tell from the clarity of his voice that it wasn’t the gun he dropped to the floor.
It was his mask.
“You won. And no one ever wins with me.”
His fingers trace up my arms and he cups my cheeks.
I have the overwhelming urge to touch him. To feel his face again. To try to work out what he looks like.
He bends down and this time it’s not the cold press of metal I feel against my forehead. I shiver as he presses his lips against me. Gentle. So fucking gentle.
Before I can process what’s happening, he’s pulling the leather jacket open and sliding it from his shoulders. He’s wet, and I know what it is, but I’m trying my best not to think about it.
The jacket falls to the floor, followed by his soaked shirt. The sound of metal on metal as he unbuckles his belt. He leans down, I imagine to take his shoes off, but he doesn’t come back up. I feel his fingers on my thighs as he unclips my stockings and slides them down my legs.
The whole time, I’m lost for words. I wasn’t lying when I said I hated him. I do. I hate the power he has over me. I hate the way he has become everything. But hating it doesn’t change it. Hating it doesn’t stop the power he has over me, my body, and my mind.
Baron takes my hand and leads me toward the shower. The room is pitch dark. I can’t even see his outline. I’ve never been scared of the dark before. The lights would go out when I was younger, and sometimes I would have forgotten to light the candle on my dresser. But still, I was never scared. I was untouchable. I was special. Bad things didn’t happen to me.
Now, I know that’s not true.
Baron maintains he has never hurt me… I’m not so sure about that anymore. There are ways to hurt someone without resorting to physical torture. With Baron, it’s not the threat of what he has done. It’s the threat of what he could do that scares me.
And being in the dark with him… it’s not the dark that’s scary. It’s the fact that he revels in it. He owns it. Being in the dark makes me weak and helpless, and that is Baron’s happy place. Always the smartest and strongest one in the room.
The sound of the water is different now, signaling he’s standing under it. He drops my hand, I’m assuming so he can wash himself, and I stand just before the threshold letting the hot steam engulf me. Getting in there with him feels like crossing over some invisible boundary. The last time I did that, he left me.
I’m not so eager to be burnt by him twice, even if he claims I’ll never leave his sight again.
He lets me be for a few moments, saying nothing, before he moves toward me.
“What’s wrong, sweet girl? You are scared of water now?”
I have to fight to keep from rolling my eyes at him. He wouldn’t be able to see it, anyway. Clearly, I have showered since the day I nearly drowned. Clearly, he knows this. “I’m not scared of the water,” I tell him. “Rather what’s in the water.”
He laughs at that. ”Quite right, too. But you do need to be cleaned, and right now I have the only means available of providing that for you.”
“That seems to be the story of our lives, doesn’t it?”
He lets out an amused laugh, and I hear the water fall in heavy thrashes as he scrubs his body. “That frustrates you? You have always been that way. Explain why I am so different from your last keeper.”
“I didn’t take showers with my last keeper. Or… kiss him,” I