Twisted - Esme Devlin Page 0,78

about to beg him not to start it again. I can’t. I just can’t.

But he doesn’t let me.

He presses a finger to my lips and shushes me.

Then he reaches up and unbuckles the belt, letting it fall to the ground with my arms. Pain shoots through my joints as they drop, and my whole upper body feels like it’s about to go with them. Pressure aches deep inside me as my legs give way and I begin to fall.

He grabs me and lifts me up into his arms, sliding me off that thing and wrapping my legs around him. I’m so over-sensitized I practically scream and buck when my center connects with his stomach. It doesn’t discourage him. He only hugs me closer.

We go to the bed, and he draws back the curtain before sliding us both in. My mind is telling me to flee. Run. Get away. But my body doesn’t have the energy to listen to it.

He cuddles me in close to him, his clothed chest against my bare one, his fingers tracing circles on my back. It’s nice. I think. I’m not sure anymore. I’m just glad he returned. How fucked up is that?

He abuses me and saves me. Splits me open then comes back to collect the pieces.

A keeper and a master. A lover. My only friend. The darkest shadow and yet my only source of light.

Why am I so special? So cursed?

I don’t know if he’s preparing to love me or kill me.

I don’t know if I care anymore.

It’s dark when I wake.

My stomach feels empty, leading me to believe I must have slept the whole day away. I’m surrounded by the smell of him, but right now I’m alone.

I twist the thick crunchy-cotton bedsheets around my body, pushing the duvet between my legs and hugging the pillow. I’m not ready to get up yet, even though I know I have to.

He’s only been back, what, twenty-four hours? And already I’m exhausted at the thought of facing him again. I’m too weak to be around him, and yet deep down, the memory of how I felt when he was gone is still there. I was even weaker then, when I was pining for him. Desperate for his games and his excitement. Craving his harsh words with his soft touch. His gentle praises with his ruthless hands. The constant switching between those opposites and never knowing which one he’d choose for me next.

I must be ill. I must have lost my mind. What has he done to me?

The answer comes the same second the question crosses my thoughts.

He has well and truly won.

That’s what he’s done.

All the minor victories he gave me along the way were just distractions.

I was so busy trying to play the game, I never realized that he was building a wall around the board.

And now I’m trapped. It’s not physical walls that are keeping me in. Baron is the walls. He is every corner and all four sides. Getting out would mean breaking him into pieces… and even if I had the strength, I don’t know if I have the heart. Even after everything he’s done, and everything he will do. I don’t know if I have the heart to crush him.

The thought of escape has been the only thing keeping me sane. The only light in the darkness. Am I just pretending, though?

It seems I’m the only one left with their head still stuck firmly in the sand. The only one still clinging on to hope.

And I’m scared that in letting go of that hope, I’ll lose myself.

I’m pulled from my pity party by the sound of the door unlocking. He must have locked me in. Silly man—I was never going to run. There is nowhere for me to go.

Baron looms at the bottom of the bed, a dark silhouette against the light of the fire. I don’t have to look at him. I can see the shadow in the corner of my eye.

“Did you miss me, sweet girl?”

My mouth is so dry, but I won’t let it stop me. “Like a toothache.”

He laughs.

It would be a mistake to assume his laughter means he’s out of his mood, though.

“Excellent. Are you hungry? Come, I brought you some food.”

He brought me some food. That’s nice.

I don’t want it.

When I don’t come to him like a well-trained puppy, he pulls the curtains back and sits down on the edge of the bed.

“What were you thinking about?” he asks.

I stare up at him. “Giving