Page 72 of Violent Delights

Chapter 43

Liana

“Joseph, please-”

“Don’t call me that!” he yells, pointing at me from afar. “It was a mistake to ever tell you my name. I never should have done that. All of this. All of this was a huge fucking mistake!”

His voice is so loud and filled with pain that I can feel it rumbling in my own heavy chest.

“Please-”

I’m interrupted by him punching the wall next to the dresser. The sheer brutality of his fist ramming into the wall makes me jump to my feet and hurry away from him, clutching the towel around my body.

He’s hyperventilating, his fist flying into the wall again and again, with so much force that plaster is falling down around him. But the biggest damage is what he’s inflicting on himself. His knuckles are leaving bloody prints on the white wall as he keeps punching it in a furious rampage. He’s growling with every punch, but it’s not the pain of the impact that tortures him.

His agony runs deeper than that.

“Stop it!” I yell at him from afar. “Jose-”

I stop and correct myself. “Master! Stop it! You’re hurting yourself!”

He keeps going, his bloody fist slamming into the wall again and again. Each impact feels like a dagger to my heart. Seeing him hurt himself over something I did to him is too much to bear. I’m choking, my heart racing in panic, as I watch helplessly.

I can’t let this happen. I need to stop him.

“Master!” I yell again, this time running toward him. His destructive frenzy scares the hell out of me, but my worry for him overpowers any sense of fear I might have for my own safety.

“Master,” I say again, trying to calm my voice to a soothing tone, as I let go of the towel and wrap my arms around him from behind, evading his vicious fist. My embrace is fueled with trust and empathy running stronger than fright. My only concern is for him, his safety, his sanity.

His body is hard and tense when I first force my touch on him, but I can feel him relax instantly. The towel falls to the floor, leaving me naked and exposed as I press myself against his strong and rough body.

His fist comes to a halt, pressed against the wall while his breathing settles to a calmer rhythm.

“Master,” I whisper. “Please, don’t do this to yourself. You’re hurting me more than you hurt yourself.”

He’s shaking, slowly moving his fist away from the wall, while his other hand finds mine, grasping it in a tight grip. I flinch in surprise when he turns around in a sudden motion, pulling me toward him in a close embrace. I know he doesn’t want me to see it, but I notice the threat of tears shimmering in his eyes before he pulls me in for a kiss, taking my face between both his hands while our tongues entwine in desperate need for each other.

I can smell the blood on his knuckles as it gets smeared across my cheek, mixing with the tears that are running down my face.

He breaks our kiss, staring into my teary eyes with a gaze of dark significance.

“You have to leave,” he whispers.

I gasp in shock.

“No,” I object. “I don’t want to leave.”

But he shakes his head.

“You have to leave, now,” he insists. “I’ll pay you whatever you ask for, but you cannot stay here. Not after what has happened.”

“What?” I breathe. “You can’t be serious.”

I place my hands on his, wincing as I touch the blood on his right knuckles.

“Master, I don’t want to leave,” I say, my lips trembling as I suppress the urge to cry. “I want to stay here. I lo-”

“No,” he interrupts, shaking me. “You betrayed me. You made me a criminal. You knew, and you didn’t tell me. This was supposed to be my game, my rules, under my control. You took all of that away from me and made the game yours.”

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