Page 51 of Split

Pleasure spreads through my limbs like wildfire as Roman hammers into me with reckless abandon, his hand sliding away from my throat to grope my breasts. He squeezes one roughly in his palm, eliciting a moan from deep in my chest when he pinches my hardened nipple between his fingers and twists. The sensation shoots straight to my core, my body jolting, toes curling.

When he lets go, I instinctively reach up to rub at my stinging nipple, my fingers sliding against something warm and sticky coating my skin. Shoving the comforter away, I glance down in alarm, eyes widening at the sight of dark red smears contrasting against my pale flesh.

“Are you bleeding?” I choke.

Roman pauses his thrusts, lifting his hand away from my body. “Guess I am,” he murmurs as he moves it into the light, hooking his chin over my shoulder to examine the deep gash cut up the center of his palm. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“What happened?”

“Broke a glass earlier.”

“Shouldn’t you get a bandage or something?”

“And leave this perfect pussy?” he scoffs as he punches his hips forward again, stealing my breath while burying himself impossibly deeper. “I don’t think so, pet.”

My eyes roll back as he resumes his savage thrusting, his hand slapping back down over my breast and giving it a rough squeeze. Now that I know he’s bleeding, I can feel the warmth of it pooling against my skin, my stomach curling in on itself.

“Roman, you’re bleeding on me,” I grit out, shoving his hand away.

He pulls out with an annoyed grunt, tossing the comforter aside and flipping me onto my back. Pushing up to kneel between my thighs, he rakes his heated gaze over my chest, emerald eyes glimmering with twisted delight at the bloodstains on my skin.

“Look how beautiful you are, covered in red,” he murmurs reverently, reaching down to smear more of it across my breasts.

I dip my chin, eyes tracking the movement of his hand and the crimson streaks on my flesh. I’m not sure why I don’t stop him. Sick fascination takes hold as he paints me with his blood, nudging my thighs further apart and sinking his thick cock back inside me. I clench around him, crying out as he starts pounding me into the mattress, both of us caught up in some sadistic haze of blood and indulgence, pain and rapture.

I come so hard that I black out, and the burgeoning monster inside me welcomes the darkness with open arms.

22

The ceramic coffee mug warms my hands as I wrap them tighter around it, leaning my elbows against the stone railing of the balcony outside my bedroom. The chilly air bites at my skin through the loose knit of my sweater, the skies over the estate gloomy and gray. A fitting backdrop for my mood.

Roman’s leaving again. The black town car is idling in the circle drive, Andrew waiting behind the wheel to take my husband into the city.Meetings, Clara said. He’s expected back by dinner time, and I’ve been instructed to wear black for our meal.

Guess Mr. Hyde got what he needed from me last night.

Despite the way he fucked me into a coma, morning still came far too soon. I only got a few hours of sleep in before I woke up alone in my bed to Clara rudely throwing open the curtains, drowning the room in light until I had no choice but to get up. I’m now on my fifth cup of coffee and no less tired.

The sound of the front door slamming echoes across the lawn, followed by Roman’s heavy footsteps as he strides from the house toward the car. He’s impeccably groomed as always, dressed in a well-tailored suit– black, like his soul– and a shinypair of oxfords that I distinctly remember Nox puking on.Aw, I’ve got memories of my husband that make me smile after all.

He pauses as he reaches for the door handle of the car, craning his neck to glance back at me over his shoulder. My breath catches when those evergreen eyes lock with mine, my fingers tightening around my mug. It’s annoying how a single look from him still elicits a knee-jerk reaction. He dips his chin in a nod of acknowledgement, and I lift mine in return. Then he turns away and opens the car door, ducking inside.

I flinch at the thud of it closing behind him, gravel crunching beneath the tires of the town car as it starts to pull away. A smile comes to my lips as I linger on the balcony and watch it disappear down the long driveway, finishing off the rest of my coffee before heading back inside.

This is the exact opportunity I’ve been waiting for. Roman is away for the day, and Clara is busy downstairs with her daily chores. There’s nobody around to stop me from finally seeing if that key I lifted from Roman’s bedroom fits in the lock of the tower door.

Abandoning my empty coffee mug on the breakfast table, I step into my walk-in closet and pace to the back where I hid my cardigan, hoping like hell it’ll still be there. I swear I don’t even breathe until I shove the heavy black peacoat aside and find it hanging right where I left it. My pulse picks up speed as I reach into thepocket, my fingertips brushing the glossy finish of the photograph before landing on the cold metal of the key. I’m not ready to look at the picture again yet. Giving the shadow a face has only made its presence in my room at night all the more disturbing.

Clutching the key tightly in my fist, I rush back out of the closet, stopping over at my desk for a notebook and pen. This time, I’m going up to the tower prepared. If the key unlocks thedoor, I’ll be using whatever time I have up there to sketch out the hedge maze in hopes of solving it.

Even though I know I’m alone on the second floor of the manor, I still get that creepy feeling of being watched as I slip out of my room and tiptoe down the hall. The silence is deafening, every creak of the floorboards beneath my sock-clad feet setting my teeth on edge. The last room on the left is noticeably colder when I step inside, and I find myself darting my gaze back and forth the entire way to the arched door at the rear, half expecting some disembodied ghoul to be lurking in the corner.

My hand trembles as I lift the heavy iron key, fitting it in the lock and holding my breath as I twist. A heavy clicking sound echoes as the lock turns over, and I turn the knob with my other hand and push at the door, exhaling in relief when it stutters open with a groan.

The creepy stone stairwell beckons me to ascend, pale light filtering in through the stained-glass window halfway up.No turning back now. My pulse thunders as I begin my climb, trailing my fingertips along the frigid wall for balance as I follow the twisting stairs up to the door at the top. Like last time, it’s unlocked, and I push inside to find the circular room just as it was before– cold and barren.

The window still hasn’t been replaced, chilly air whistling in from between the gaps in the planks boarding it up. This plan would be a whole lot easier with an actualwindowto look through, but I was able to see well enough through the cracks last time to discern that the hedges formed a maze. Hopefully that means I’ll also be able to see well enough to map it out.

Crossing the room, I push up on my tiptoes and squint to peer out from the largest gap between the boards. It’s not an ideal vantage point, but at least I can view a strip of the maze at a time if I keep my feet steady and my focus sharp. After taking amoment to consider my action plan, I pull the notebook and pen from the pocket of my sweater and get to work sketching it out.

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