Page 43 of Soul Of A Villain

“Shit.” Oliver moved quickly until his back was against the headboard. “Stop crying.”

Londyn scrambled into his lap, frantically holding on to him like a lifeline. Why she clung to the one person who was the catalyst for her pain was a mystery. But something inside her soul was drawn to his darkness. She could not fight how it wrapped tendrils around her mind and refused to let her go. And it was pathetic how she craved his touch, his attention. She’d not experienced affection or even something so simple as a hug in such a long time. Was it any wonder she gravitated toward this man? He made her feel things she had never experienced before.

The realization that she wanted more of him was frightening. Humbling. Humiliating.

For a moment, Oliver did nothing. Even amid her hysteria, Londyn recognized his reluctance to embrace her, although he did not try dislodging her. It was as if he were overcome with indecision at the sight of her tears. When she pressed her face into his chest, clinging to him and hating herself for it, he stiffened, his body rigid and unyielding. She whimpered, squirming until she was nestled firmly in his lap.

Letting out a sigh, Oliver finally gathered her close, his arms encircling her waist as she huddled against him, soaking his skin with hot tears.

“Sshhh,” he crooned, stroking her hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you. Don’t cry now.”

His assurances only made Londyn sob more.

Okay? How is any of this okay?

He shifted her until he could frame her face in the cradle of his large hands. Peering into her eyes, he watched as she tried to bring herself under control. Beneath his impassive gaze, Londyn could see an unexpected softening in the icy-blue depths as he studied her. A smile twisted his lips as she stared back, unblinking.

“Tell me, little dove. Why are you crying?”

Fresh tears welled in Londyn’s eyes. She bit her bottom lip, a little hiccup escaping when she took a deep breath.

“I-I don’t know,” she lied.

The corner of Oliver’s eyes crinkled, but he was oddly sympathetic. “Oh, that’s not true. You may not understand why you started, but you know the reason for your tears now. Let me help you figure this out because I suspect I understand you better than you probably do. You’re feeling violated, but you are also content. You’ve experienced an overload of pleasure, but your mind cannot accept that. It is actually rebelling, so as your body and your mind fight, all that confusion and turmoil needs an outlet. You cry so bitterly, and yet, you seek comfort from me. The man keeping you prisoner. It’s overwhelming, I know, dove.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, brushing them gently as he spoke. “I do understand, you know. More than you can realize. I know what it’s like to want to scream at the top of your lungs. To flail and rage and feel like there’s not a goddamn soul on this earth listening to you. I understand. And you can cry on my shoulder for as long as you want. I won’t think any less of you.”

A muscle ticked in the firm line of his jaw at her confession, his gaze hardening. Londyn could almost hear him grinding his teeth as he cursed softly under his breath.

She could not withstand the vulnerability she saw in him. Could not fight the silky thread of commiseration she suddenly experienced. To think he truly understood her based on his own experiences was unfathomable, but the connection between them shimmered like water in bright sunlight. This man was a killer. An abuser. A monster. And yet, his admission did something unexplainable. It made him almost…human.

What Londyn did next shocked them both.

Winding her arms around his neck, she hesitantly kissed him; her lips barely pressing his, her breath coming in helpless gasps. She could not rationalizewhyshe initiated the kiss. She only knew, in that moment, she could do nothing else to express the emotions raging inside her.

Oliver shuddered; his eyes fluttering shut as Londyn shyly explored the firmness of his mouth. The pillow-like softness of the center of his lower lip and the rough scrape of the morning stubble were contradictory but addictive just the same. His breath remained slow and even, but where her breasts pressed into his broad chest, his heart was thumping as rapidly as her own. His hands dropped from her face, instead, resting lightly on her hips. When she finally leaned back, her eyes wide with shock at her actions, Oliver’s mouth pulled into a tight line. His brow furrowed, and Londyn’s stomach dropped with irrational fear.

“Don’t make the fucking mistake of thinking you might soften me. I may understand you and, surprisingly, even feel a bit of sympathy for your situation. But this doesn’t change anything. I’m the fucking villain in this story, Londyn. You should remember that and never forget it.”

He removed her from his lap and rolled to sit on the edge of the bed with his back to her. The skull tattoo grinned at her as if confirming his words. Londyn shivered, wrapping her arms around herself while drawing her knees to her chest. She watched him, breathless and confused, as he continued speaking without looking back at her.

“I’ve got business to attend over the next couple of days. While I’m gone, I expect you to be a good girl. If you are, if you cause no trouble, I’ll take you to the lake for some fresh air when I return. Would you like that?”

Londyn desperately wanted that. She needed the sun’s warmth on her face. A fresh breeze ruffled her hair. But she couldn’t help but think this might be a trick. A test of some sort. Maybe he wanted to see if she would run. Maybe he wanted her to try so he could punish her again and feel vindicated for whatever torture he dreamed up. Or maybe this was all a setup for the day he ended her life. After all, he’d taken what he wanted. Her innocence. Her blood. Her soul. “If that’s what you want.”

Oliver glanced over his shoulder at her, his mouth a hard line. “Miss Miller is coming to clean the house today. I don’t want you interacting with her. Not because she doesn’t know why you are here, but because I don’t like making her uncomfortable. And if I know you, you will try enlisting her help in escaping. Which would be a useless endeavor on your part.”

Londyn nearly choked on her outrage. He didn’t want to make his housekeeper uncomfortable, but he sure as hell didn’t mind taking what didn’t belong to him. He hadn’t felt such remorse about making her cry. His lack of regard was so hurtful it left her breathless. Her hands clenched into fists.

But still… if she indicated in any way that his statement bothered her, if she let her mask of acceptance slip, he might take back the offer of eventually taking her outside.

“Okay,” she said tersely while swallowing past the lump of resentment in her throat. “I will stay in my room.”

He studied her from over his shoulder; his gaze narrowed as if he expected her anger to manifest. When she calmly wiped the tears from her cheeks in silence, he let out a heavy sigh and turned back.

“Go there now.” Oliver’s voice was gruff. “And Londyn? I owe you five more lines in addition to the ones already carved into your back. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

Londyn gasped. When had he added the additional lines? After the shower? When she was high on endorphins and crashing? The entire experience was a hazy blur in her mind, but she almost remembered him rolling her onto her stomach when he placed her on the bed. Was that when he did it? She felt sick that she could not remember.

His cruel smile told her he knew exactly what she was thinking, and he enjoyed her horror. “I want them there as a reminder of what you have given me—your submission and your innocence.”

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