Page 87 of Grotesque Love

I shake my head vehemently, my eyes pleading with him to stop. I don’t want to see him doing this, let alone be forced to watch him pleasure himself. My body clenches involuntarily, trying to ward off the nausea that’s threatening to overtake me.

Carver smirks, seemingly enjoying my discomfort. “You’re such a delicate little flower, aren’t you?” He takes another tantalising stroke, his eyes never leaving mine. “But don’t worry, my dear. After tomorrow you’ll understand what it means to bloom.”

His closeness now as he presses against me is even more suffocating than the stifling room. The scent of his sweat and arousal mixes with the blood and decay.

He doesn’t seem to care that I turn away as he lifts my dress and presses himself against the soft skin of my thighs. The wet sounds of him taking care of himselffill the room, along with his laboured breathing and grunts as he thrusts and ruts against my unwilling body.

My heart races with fear and disgust, a mixture of emotions that leave me feeling violated and helpless.

Is this what he’s been doing to me? All of those days spent in medicated fog so he can take pleasure in my body without my knowledge or consent?

Finally, he grunts and the heat of his hot cum splashes against my skin. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes as I stare at the ceiling and try to block everything out.

On my thigh, his cum is rapidly cooling, causing goosebumps to erupt on my skin. I shudder and bite back a sob.

I’m left shivering in the chair, bound tightly and a helpless mess. The tears fall, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CARVER

Arianwen is pushing my boundaries, testing me like a typical teenager, but I have no patience for this disobedience. A few hours on her own in the cavern should do the trick.

Tomorrow marks the anniversary of the day I first laid eyes on my pretty little princess.

I remember it like it was only yesterday. The world suddenly came into focus when I saw her playing on the beach with her mother, splashing around in the sea.

I was obsessed.

Consumed.

I knew that there would be no one else for me in this lifetime.

My ancestors, sick, twisted fucks that they were, liked to collect trophies, a habit I have also picked up. I’ve added my fair share of items to our personal museum over the years.

But for the first time, I wanted something living. I wanted her warm and still breathing beneath my touch. I wanted to care for her, caress her silvery hair and watch herbloom into the ultimate prize.

It took planning and precision, but I had patience.

Years of restless hunting, collecting mementos and souvenirs that are worthless now. I was determined, sure that I could mould her into my perfect pure princess.

Seducing her mother had been easy, she was a single parent stuck in a rut with bills to pay and a taste for the finer things in life. I made an effort for her, I was generous with my money and my time, and she lapped up my attention like a greedy kitten. It wasn’t a hardship to fuck her either, because it gave me glimpses of what Arianwen would look like while taking my cock, white blonde hair fanned out on my sheets, soft flushed skin and big blue eyes.

She was always my end goal.

And tomorrow, she’ll be mine.

I light up a cigar, sit back in my chair and look over the Clifton collection. They say my bloodline is cursed, tainted with evil, and who am I to deny the dark pull running through me?

Alongside my altar in the cavern, the west wing has become a shrine of sorts to our little curse, a record of our misdeeds. I’ve always been aware of the so-called hex on my family, my father had raised me with tales of village witches and stone sentinels but it wasn’t until I was studying history and politics at Eton that I decided to dig a little deeper.

This collection is where I found my answers, lines of curse dotted throughout books, preserved in scrawled notes and little clues left everywhere. It was almost lost to the passing of time, but with patience and perseverance I’d finally uncovered the original, carved into a stone out on the grounds. I’d had it restored and placed above my altar to remind me of the power here.

A depraved wickedness lies

Where a tainted legacy flows,

In the veins of its descendants,

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