Page 53 of In Love with the Devil

“Julian?” It’s a whisper. She doesn’t want to need me, but I immediately turn around and help her walk to the bed, where she sits.

“You know what?” I ask, and she angles her eyes up to me. “Fuck this.” I pick up the blind fold.

“Julian…” Her palms come up and the anguish on her face is clear.

The blindfold is hanging from my hands in the air. “It’s okay, Astoria. I have a surprise for you and this time… you’re gonna love it.”

While still holding the terror and pain in her eyes, her gaze shifts from the blindfold to my painted face. I nod once, then wrap the thing around her head. From my pocket, I take out the keys and unlock her collar. Her neck is black and blue from it. She doesn’t dare say a word, but I can see her eyebrows wrinkling with confusion.

“I’ll be right back.” I open all the doors, then return to her cell and carry her all the way up to my bedroom on the second floor.

The sunset is bleeding through the glass wall. I gently place her on my bed, close all the curtains, then search my dresser for my sunglasses. "Don't open your eyes 'til I tell you to." I take off the blindfold and replace them with the sunglasses. “Open your eyesvery slowly. The light is going to bother you for a while, but just blink a lot.”

She follows my advice, first looking at me, then eventually around her. “Wh-where are we?”

“You’re in my room. I figured you could use a different setting.”

“F-for how long?”

“I don’t know. For how ever long you behave.” I shrug, smile, then cup her cheeks, craving for her to show some semblance of happiness. “You want to take a shower?”

She sighs, her eyes searching mine for the angle, the trick. Tears run down her cheeks. "My eyes… it's stinging."

"Here put the blindfold on again. We will ease you into it."

"No!"

"Astoria. It's for your own good."

"I-I won't need it in the bathroom if you keep the light off."

"Okay, but we'll rest your eyes when you come out." She nods. "I’ll be right back.” When I return, I have scissors, surgical tape, and plastic. She catches sight of the scissors and her eyes open wide, then they shift toward mine. “I’m not going to hurt you. We have to keep your incisions dry, so I’m gonna cover them.”

After, I carry her to my bathroom and place her on the marble bench next to the bathtub while I turn on the hot water. We don’t speak a word when I help her get in, or when she sighs with her eyes closed, enjoying the temperature of the water and smell of the lavender soap. My shower has ten times the water pressure compared to hers, so I'm sure that's part of what's relaxing her.

Chapter twenty-four

The Mad King

Astoria

Julian's gentleness feels like a dream but I know I'm awake. Even when the soapy loofa rubs over my pussy, I can tell his intention is only to take care of me. It's confusing.

What the hell did he do to me after he knocked me out? I'm so exhausted and have thick bandages on my belly. Every time he moves, I anticipate him becoming the monster I know he is and my world quakes with fear. I can't allow myself to be fooled into thinking he can stay being nice to me when I know sooner or later, he will unleash hell on me again. But he did bring me out of the basement. Something turns off in my brain and my curiosity takes over. While he washes me, I slowly raise my wet fingers and reach for his painted face. The water on my finger tips clears a little of the paint from his jaw.

“Don’t!” he yells and pulls away. The rage appears uncontrollable, as if he could kill me right now.

Startled, my back hits the tile behind me. I gasp, swallow hard, cringe away, and freeze while my heart races, expecting the worst, flinching. There it is, everything I fear, Julian's rage. “I-I’m so sorry. Sorry, I don’t know what I was–”

He sighs, almost rolling his eyes. The expression on his face when he lifts his gaze to mine again is like night and day. He's cool and collected now. “It’s okay. Just remember, Astoria, curiosity killed the cat. Okay?”

Jesus, what am I supposed to do with this? He's like a nuclear bomb. I nod with a giant wave of relief that this is not what's going to get my head slammed against the wall, or what's going to get me locked up down stairs again. “Why don’t you want me to see your face?” I whisper.

“Because a skull is a better representation of who I truly am.”

I nod and stare at the soap bubbles popping one by one on my feet. “May I ask you something else?”

“Why not?” He sighs, letting me know this is not something he’s thrilled to do.

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