Page 20 of Muerte

I withheld a sigh, mindful that this was as new to her as it was to me. I wasn’t accustomed to having to repeat myself or wait to be obeyed. “Nothing that should have you cowering in a corner.”

“I’m not cowering,” she retorted with a hint of indignation.

“Sit back down then,” I coaxed.

I waited for her to move, pleased when she finally listened. I walked to the edge of bed and set down the bottle of water before I offered her the dish. “You need to eat.”

She gingerly accepted it and studied the fruits and chocolate almonds as if searching for a hint of visible poison.

“It’s safe. I prepared it myself.”

Whatever she was going to say, she thought better of it and picked up an orange slice. Regardless of what was going on inside her head, she couldn’t deny her body needed food and rest. I watched her eat, knowing my stare was making her uncomfortable. I was too enraptured to care. Didn’t matter I’d spent hours on end watching her the past few years.

I never tired of it.

She was so beautiful. And most importantly, she was mine.

After taking a few more bites, she sat the plate down and rolled her lips together before fixing me with a curious, yet guarded stare. “Do you have cameras in here?”

“They’re in the whole house.”

“That’s how you knew she spit in the food.”

I gave nothing away as that registered in my brain. Kennedy was fortunate not to be here anymore. To think she could ever get away with such a disgusting act was naive at best. I would’ve gutted her like the lowly swine she was, right where she stood. Of course, I knew she’d tampered with the food. I didn’t need to play any footage back to confirm that, but to spit in it? The way she behaved was inexcusable.

Lolita took a small breath and stared at me.

I could tell she wanted to say something but was either unsure or afraid. I kept silent and waited.

“What’s going to happen to her?”

“Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“Then… then what’s going to happen to me?”

This was the question I’d been expecting her to ask. I knew my answer mattered. Whatever I said would weigh on her mind and subconsciously influence how she behaved. With less than twenty-four hours until the Rite, I wanted to keep her as calm as possible. That left me unable to respond with full disclosure.

“As much as I’d like to answer you, this is a conversation for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Then you’re going to keep me chained up like this?”

“Lolita…” I swept my gaze over her face. I couldn’t get over how beautiful she was. I’d grown up being told I was blessed and highly favored by Carnalis Dominus. I’d never believed it more than in this moment. It was thanks to him I had her.

“That chain around your ankle is the only thing stopping me from doing what I’ve wanted to do since the moment I saw you in my hotel room.”

She blinked and subtly shrank away. It made me want to reach out and pull her closer. “Finish your meal and get some sleep.”

I took one last look at her and then left the room before I did something I couldn’t undo. I never had an issue controlling myself or with being patient. Lolita had been home less than a day and I could already tell I would struggle to uphold those values when it came to her. She wanted the chain removed, but it was the only thing keeping her safe from me.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I couldn’t believe I’d fallen asleep. Not only that, but I’d slept better than I had in weeks. I wanted to blame Mr. Hawthorne and accuse him of drugging me again, but the exhaustion that settled into my bones was a result of everything catching up to me.

One of the first things I noticed upon waking was that he or someone else had been in here while I slept. The second thing I realized was that the house was no longer quiet. I could hear pots and pans clanking, followed by an occasional feminine voice. The aroma of bacon wafted through the air and caused my stomach to growl.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this hungry. It felt like days had passed since Mr. Hawthorne brought me a plate of fruit. There was no one to blame for that but myself. It was stupid of me to have refused food when I hadn’t eaten since being at work. A hunger strike wouldn’t bring freedom or escape. It would only weaken me. That was the last thing I needed, to be so stubborn I put myself in a more vulnerable position.

I looked towards the windows and saw hints of sunlight stretching beneath the drapes. It was most likely early morning. I slid from the bed and tugged the excess chain along with me as I entered the bathroom.

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