I find myself wrapping her up in my arms, pulling her closer, rather than pushing her away. My eyes are glued to her face, watching as the tears cascade down her cheeks like raindrops on a window. In all the time she’s been here, she’s never looked as broken as she does right now, and the emotions swirling in her eyes grab onto me, digging their claws into my subconscious.
Her vulnerability is pushing through, and I can’t do anything but cup her by the cheek and wipe the tears away. My mouth makes soft shhh sounds, the noises I’m expelling are so foreign, I didn’t even know I could make them.
After a while, she stops crying, but I continue stroking her cheek, loving the feel of her skin beneath my hand.
“What was your dream about?” I croak, wondering what could’ve brought emotions out of her like that.
“My mom,” she whispers. “In the dream, I was there again, in the bathroom. When she killed herself… and I found her. There was so much blood, on the tub, on her body, on my hands. I can still see the vacant look in her eyes, feel the coldness of her skin.”
I swallow, taking in everything she says. I’m shocked, mainly because that’s not the story her father told everyone. According to him, she died in a car accident. Why would he lie about something like that? It gets the wheels in my head turning and reminds me further of what a pig Romero is. He’s hiding something, and I’m going to figure it the fuck out.
“I miss her so much, Julian, and I wish she was here now. Wish she was going to be at our wedding.” She starts to cry again, and her broken emotions reach inside me, tugging at my heart. “She would’ve wanted to be here. I know it. She loved me. Far more than my father does.” She sniffles before continuing. “After her death, everything changed. I used to be able to go outside, cook in the kitchen, go shopping, and then he took it all away.”
Every word she speaks resonates through me. I don’t want to be like her father. I don’t want to lock her in a cage, but I have to. I can’t risk her leaving or someone getting to her. She’s reached a part of me no one ever has and as terrifying as that is, I can’t let her go. I won’t. I’ll kill, destroy, and hold her against her will if need be.
She is mine until death.
“Sleep, I will keep the nightmares away,” I whisper into her hair, my lips grazing her forehead.
“Will you ever let me go?”
“Untie you from the bed, yes. Leave me? Never. If you ever get away from me, I’ll hunt you down, find you and drag you back here. The day you signed your name on that contract is the day you became mine. I will never let you escape me. Never let you go.”
Silence settles over us, and even though she doesn’t say anything, I know she’s still awake. I ignore that fact and hold her until we both fall asleep, wondering if things have to change so much, or if I can keep her like this forever.
25
Elena
Julian has left me tied to this bed for two days now. My wrists are sore, and my arms ache from being in the same position all the time. I thought after the nightmare, and the way he held me, he would release me, but he didn’t.
What’s even worse than being uncomfortable is the loneliness. The only person I’ve seen or spoken to is Julian, and he doesn’t stay long when he is here. That probably has something to do with me constantly yelling at him and pushing him away. I hate and yearn for him all at once. Hate what he is doing to me, but also yearn for him, desperate for his touch. The way he held and comforted me has my body confused.
I know that part of it is only because he is the only human contact I have. But I can’t help but wonder if it’s more than that. The way he touched me, punished me… how he used me. It was… unexpected. Not the part of him acting that way, the part of me liking it.
There must be something fundamentally wrong with me. How can I possibly enjoy what he did to me? How can my body want more of it?
With nothing to do besides think about Julian and what we did, I’m in a constant state of need. My body feels hot, and every time he lets me go to the bathroom, I find my panties soaked.
I turn my head to check the time. He should be back with my dinner soon. Right on cue, my stomach growls.
Watching the minutes tick by, I wait for him to open the door.
When I finally hear him approaching, I curse myself for feeling the excitement bubble up inside of me. Yes, there is definitely something wrong with me.
The lock disengages, and the door opens, revealing Julian in all his glory. Like expected, he is holding a tray of food. What I don’t see coming is him being in workout clothes.
His usual suit and tie are gone, and he is wearing gym shorts and a T-shirt. Both are covered in sweat and clinging to his muscles like a second skin. I can see every one of his muscles flex as he walks toward me. My mouth goes dry, and my thighs rub together, desperate for any kind of friction. I want him so badly, and I hate that I want him.
“I lost track of time at the gym.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. All I can do is stare at his chest, wondering what it would feel like to run my fingers over it.
“You’re doing it again.” He chuckles, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“W-what?”
“Looking at me like you want me to fuck you.”
“Maybe I do…”
“Don’t be a tease, Elena.” Julian shakes his head, looking baffled. “Now, be a good girl and let me feed you.” Taking the fork, he loads it up with a small piece of chicken and tops it with a heap of mash potato.
I part my lips just wide enough for him to slip the food between them. Then, I close my lips and let him slide the fork back out, leaving me with a savory mouth full of food. I watch him watching me eat. His gaze never leaving my lips.
We repeat the process a few more times, each time feeling more erotic than the next. Who knew feeding could feel so… sensual? Him taking care of me like this, of my basic needs, there is something nurturing about it.
This feeling of him caring for me, and the memory of how he used my body, is a dangerous combination. I have to stop reliving the memory. It was a punishment, after all.
After the fourth bite, I shake my head. Indicating that I’m done.
“You’ve barely eaten,” he says, looking down at the plate.
“I know, I just…” I know this change in conversation is going to surprise him, but I’ve been thinking about this all day, and I can’t keep the thoughts to myself any longer. “Why do you want to wait until after the wedding to have sex?” It’s a question I have wondered about for a while. Julian doesn’t strike me as a religious man, so he must have some other reason.
“Tradition mostly. That’s the short answer anyway.”
“I don’t want to wait,” I blurt out. “I want to do it now. Today.”
Julian’s eyebrows pull together as he gives me a puzzled look. “Why? The wedding is in a few days. Why now of all the times?”
Lifting my chin, I look him in the eyes. “Because I want it to be my choice.” I didn’t even realize how true that was until the words left my mouth. Yes, I’m freaking horny, like a cat in heat, but I also want this to be on my terms. “My whole life, every choice has been taken away from me. This time, I want a choice. I want to decide when I’m giving my virginity away.”