Page 34 of Torment

My face fell as guilt stabbed at my guts. I turned back to look at the fish, refusing to meet Mason’s eyes again.

“Get up and follow me,” he said a moment later. “You can come back and see him again soon.”

I let Mason lead me down a different hall, and we entered a large bedroom. On one side, there was a king-sized bed draped in a dark gray duvet with gold trim, and directly in front of me was an enormous picture window with a view of the lake outside. Across from the end of the bed, there was an enormous flat-screen TV hanging on the wall. To the far right of that was a door which I assumed led into a private bathroom.

“Is this for me?” I asked, turning to Mason.

He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s just a spare room. But yes, it’s yours for now.”

I didn’t ask why he was suddenly being so nice to me and giving me things. I’d learned not to question him for fear of punishment.

“Thank you,” I said instead.

Mason strode over to the end of the bed and leaned down. I hadn’t noticed before, but there was a chest on the floor there, heavy and rectangular with a quilted velveteen top so that it could be used as a seat as well as for storage.

He opened the chest and pulled out multiple shopping bags. “These are for you too,” he said, placing them on the bed for me to examine.

At first I was tentative when I reached into the bags, afraid it was some sort of trap, but they only contained beautiful things. Lingerie, clothes, bathroom products. Expensive, but not just for the sake of it. They were good quality products. I could never afford any of it back in the real world.

“Thank you,” I repeated softly. I picked up a peony and raspberry-scented shower gel and gave it a sniff. Pure heaven.

“You’re welcome,” Mason muttered. He gestured toward the door I spotted earlier. “You can use the bathroom for one hour. Do whatever you want in there, but keep the door open.”

I nodded and scooped all the bathroom products back into one bag to take with me. I also selected a pair of skinny jeans, a soft cream sweater, and some white lacy panties from the pile of gorgeous clothing.

Mason shook his head. “I want you to wear this when you get out,” he said, picking up a black satin cami set.

I nodded again. As I took the set from him, our fingertips briefly touched, and I felt a familiar jolt of electricity. The tension was still there between us, drawing me toward him, but it was shrouded in fear and uncertainty. Bruised like my body.

Lowering my eyes, I turned and headed into the bathroom. It was decorated with textured charcoal-gray tiles which matched the bedding in the other room. I always imagined that a room with dark tiles would look dingy, but it looked like a luxurious hotel bathroom instead, the dark color scheme complimented by soft lighting and white and silver fittings.

The shower was twice the size of my old one, with a massive fancy showerhead and some sort of console on the wall beside it which controlled the water temperature to the user’s exact preference. I set it as hot as it could get and stepped into the steamy cubicle, sighing with relief and satisfaction as warmth seeped into my bones.

I never thought a simple hot shower would be a luxury to me again. When I left New Eden eight years ago, I was amazed that I was suddenly allowed to use bathrooms with hot water after so long without such a treat, and I thought I’d never get used to it all. I was giddily excited whenever I stripped off and turned the tap on. Over time, though, I became accustomed to the concept, and within a couple of years it was something I took for granted.

Never again. Not now that I knew it could all be ripped away at any time.

After I’d luxuriated in every sweet-scented shower oil, gel, and scrub available, I applied a moisturizing mask to my hair, rinsed it, and stepped out of the shower to dry it off. I’d spotted a comb and hairdryer on the glossy counter earlier.

When my newly-blonde locks were brushed and blow-dried, I ran my fingers through them, a faint smile creeping over my face as I remembered how nice my hair used to be before all the dye and styling I’d put it through in an attempt to mask my identity. With the red dye stripped out and the new products in effect, it was beginning to look like it used to. Slowly, I was returning to my old self.

I dressed in the thin black cami and matching shorts as Mason had commanded me. The shorts were practically panties, given how little they covered, but it was still much better than being naked all the time.

When I padded back into the room, Mason was standing beside the bed with a tube in one hand. I froze in my tracks, afraid of what it might be, but he gestured for me to come closer. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “This will help with the bruising. Lie down on your stomach.”

I stepped over to the bed and did as he said. I felt Mason’s weight beside me a moment later, and then his fingertips caressed my battered skin, rubbing a cool cream from the tube into my sorest spots.

“This is arnica,” he explained. “A lot of people swear by it for healing. It’s always worked well for me too, placebo effect or not.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” I replied.

“It was one of my mother’s secrets,” he went on, sliding his palms inside the cami to reach my lower back. “She always rubbed it on us if we fell off our bikes or out of a tree when we were kids. She said it would make all of our bruises go away.”

As his hands continued their slow path over my back, buttocks and thighs, I closed my eyes and tried to ignore my body’s treachery. Heat was building in my stomach, swirling downward and pooling between my legs. As the sensation took hold, I instinctively clenched my thighs together.

I was reacting to the old Mason again, remembering what it felt like to have his hands on me all those years ago. As much as I couldn’t help the response, I knew I had to chase it away. The Mason I once knew was gone, replaced by this sadistic version of him who captured and hurt me. I had to remember that fact.

However, having said that, his old personality seemed to be peeking through again with all these sudden treats and kind gestures. It was beyond confusing. Who was I with right now? The good Mason or the bad one? Were they one and the same all along and I simply never noticed?

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