Page 21 of Unveiled

“How does your back feel?” I ask, starting with a simple question so she might be more willing to open up to me.

“Like it’s on fire, but not in a bad way,” she answers. When I scrunch my brows, asking a silent question, she explains what she means. “I know it should hurt, and it does, but it almost feels like a source of pride. Like getting a tattoo, I guess. You knew it was going to hurt, but in the end, you have a beautiful piece of art.”

“Except it’s not a beautiful piece of art,” I remind her. “It’s my name in jagged, crooked lines across your back. A name you can’t even bring yourself to say.”

She takes a few minutes to process that, to really understand what just happened and how irreversible it is. In a year, when she graduates, my name will be carved into her back. In five years, when we’re married and having babies, my name will still be carved into her back. And in thirty years when we’re growing old and visiting our grandchildren, my name will still be there, a token of our time here.

“It’s beautiful to me,” she answers. “It’s a reminder of the time we spent together. Even though it can’t last, I don’t regret it. It feels almost right to have your name there, where anyone could see it.”

Her admission sends pleasure straight through me. Even if she won’t admit it to herself, she’s softening toward me all over again, much quicker than she did last time. By the end of the week, she won’t be able to deny that she belongs to me.

“And what about the rest of it, little one?” I ask, referring to what she said about me licking the knife. Even I’m not sure how I feel about the whole experience. I can’t decide if I liked it or not, but I definitely liked the way she was looking at me while I was doing it.

“I don’t understand it,” she admits as she casts her eyes around, looking everywhere but at me. “I know I should have been disgusted, and part of me was, but it also kind of turned me on.”

I nod my head, even though she’s not looking at me, just to acknowledge what she said.

“Why did you do it?” Her eyes finally snap to mine, wanting to see my reaction to her question.

“The reason is lost on me,” I answer honestly. It was one of those impulsive thoughts that I just couldn’t get out of my head, and I didn’t want to get it out of my head. I wanted to see what it would be like.

She nods, mimicking my acknowledgement of her answer. As I brush a strand of hair behind her ear, I let my hand wander further until it’s reaching around her head and pulling the band out of her hair.

“You’ve had a tough day, little one. Rest. I’ll stay with you to keep the nightmares away,” I promise her. At this point, I think we’re both in need of a few extra hours of sleep. Both of us were woken from nightmares last night, and then we were awake when her dream caused her to slide onto my cock.

She tries to fight it, but eventually the exhaustion from not sleeping well and the trauma to her back catch up to her, and we fall asleep in each other’s arms. This is exactly how it should be between us.

Chapter 9

Ainsley

No man should look like this, especially when in a deep sleep, but of course the monster does. Even with his mouth gaping open and his hair a tangled mess, he’s still devilishly handsome. It was easier to look at him with the mask on, though I have to admit even that was hard for me to do.

The mask was a safety net for me. I learned to confide in the mask, trusted the mask, formed a bond with it and eventually fell in love with it. The mask is more of a weakness to me than his face is. His face brings me back to all the dreams I had of him, where he would comfort me and promise to rescue me. It brings me back to the night he rescued me, when I thought he was so gorgeous that there was no way he was real.

When I found him in the bathroom and realized what he was doing, I was angry. So angry that I wanted him to know how it felt to find him with slices across his skin and blood soaking into his pants. I probably shouldn’t have made him carve his name into my skin in retaliation, especially since I plan on walking away and never seeing him at the end of this week. But when he was doing it, it felt right. Like he should have marked me in such a way a long time ago.

Now that it’s happened, there’s no going back. I can hide it under clothes, or maybe get it covered with a tattoo, but I’ll always know it’s there. I’ll always have a reminder of what happened today.

The monster’s phone vibrates on the nightstand, but he doesn’t even stir. As carefully as I can, I climb out of the bed and walk around to the nightstand, where I grab his phone and see who’s calling.

Ethan.

He didn’t take my phone this time, but I haven’t exactly had a chance to call Ethan and talk to him yet. I’ve given up on being mad at him for anything concerning the monster. No matter what he says or does, the monster will never change his mind, so Ethan is better off just going along with it. He could at least warn me, though.

“Ethan,” I breathe into the phone as I answer the call.

There’s a pause on the other end before I hear Ethan’s voice. “Ainsley? Why are you answering C - his phone?”

Ethan knows better than to say his name in front of me. It was one of the first rules I made when I arrived at his house. He was only ever to be referred to as the monster, and he was to be brought up as little as possible. Ethan has always been good about following those rules.

“He’s sleeping,” I answer. “Why are you calling him?”

“To demand your release,” he tells me, doing his best to sound like my knight in shining armor. “He’s been ignoring me since he told me his plan yesterday.”

I almost forgot that the monster told me that Ethan knew about this plan. When the monster kidnapped me the first time, I wanted to hate Ethan for having any part of it. And I did, for about as long as my anger could last. But by the time he came to visit me, I was just so relieved that someone was giving me answers, that I couldn’t be mad at him.

This time, I’m not sure how I feel. I’m angry that he didn’t at least warn me about what the monster was planning. Not that a warning would have changed anything, but I wouldn’t have been caught by surprise. I could have brought uglier pajamas.

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