Page 7 of Sugar Coated

Fang didn’t say a word as he listened to me go on and on. Laying there beside me, with his arm around me, he was content with staring deep into my eyes while I rambled away.

I told him how he always wore a mask, what that mask looked like: an old-fashioned devil mask, where the bottom half was almost comically designed into a massive frown. How hegave me a TV when I complained about being alone with my thoughts. How he brought me food every single morning and night, never saying a word, the way he almost let himself get close to me a few times, like he was dying to touch me, but each time he resisted.

By the end of the story, Fang knew more about my time as a kidnapping victim than anyone else in the world besides me and my Devil.

“He never hurt me,” I whispered. “He… he left me a key. He just gave it to me one day, like he was gifting my escape. I thought it was some kind of trick, but then… the key worked and for the first time in two years I left that room. The house was empty. No one was living in it. He kept me in the basement. The only area that was used was the kitchen, where he’d cook my meals.”

My Devil, a chef. The image was almost funny.

“I could’ve just walked out, but what would that have looked like? Laina Hawkins, the daughter of the mayor, comes back after two years missing with not a scratch on her?”

Fang asked, “And why couldn’t it have been like that?”

An uncomfortable question, one that made me squirm a bit. “I watched my dad win the mayor’s seat. Before my kidnapping, I thought his political dreams were just that: dreams. I never thought he’d win. He was a nobody. But after I was taken, he was on the news all the time, campaigning while he demanded better of the police. He used my kidnapping to help him win.”

“Maybe that’s true, but it doesn’t mean you had to hurt yourself.”

“I didn’t… I thought…” Something I’d never said aloud before, something Fang must predict.

“You thought maybe your father had something to do with it? If that’s true, why didn’t you tell anyone that?”

I swallowed hard. This next admission was a knife in my throat, not wanting to come out. “Because, if it’s true, I wanted to get revenge myself. I’d play the broken daughter while looking for a way to destroy his career from the inside-out.”

“My cotton-candy daydream wanted vengeance,” Fang murmured. “Still, you could’ve gotten it without cutting off your poor fingers.”

“I don’t regret it. It makes me look like a victim to the world.”

“It’s hard for me to argue with you about it, because if you were never missing those fingers, Lola would never have sent you to me to begin with, and we wouldn’t be here.” Fang sighed out a slow breath as he cuddled closer to me. “And I wouldn’t know what it’s like to have you in my bed. It’s not something I’d trade for anything.”

I smiled to myself at hearing that, certain parts of me warming up in response. I honestly didn’t know how he could say things like that so effortlessly, so easily, as if he was stating a fact and not something most people would find utterly bizarre.

Fang then went on to say, “The way you talk about this devil… it sounds like you’re in love with him.”

Frankly, it was something I had thought a lot about, but hearing someone else say it aloud made it all too real for me. My heart skipped a beat in my chest, and my fingers got clammy. All I could say was, “I…”

“I don’t mind if you are, provided you’re still my princess. Love is infinite—I believe we have the capacity to love endlessly.” His gentle voice hardened when he added, “What I do take issue with is the fact that he kept you locked up for two years. Someone like that doesn’t deserve your love. Whether or not your father hired him is beside the point. That devil did you a disservice by keeping you locked away, and now that there have been more attempts on you, can you truly be sure it’s not the same devil behind the wheel?”

“He would never hurt me,” I stated, firmly believing it to be true.

“How can you trust a man who won’t even show you his face?”

Fang was only being logical—and taking the whole thing with a grain of salt, to my surprise—but still, I could never get behind not trusting my Devil. These next words were whispered so softly even I had a hard time hearing them: “He came for me tonight.”

“He what?”

“At the party, before the kidnapping. I…” God, this next part was difficult for me to admit. “I was going to hook up with someone. Just a guy. A stranger.” Laying in Fang’s bed, with his arm around me, I felt guilty admitting it. “I’m sorry. I just wanted—”

“You were locked up for two years. You don’t have to explain yourself to me… although it does make me a bit… jealous. For future reference, if you ever need to sow some oats, I am always here to help you sow them. In fact, I would be more than glad to help you sow oats whenever you want.”

The corners of my mouth quirked upward in a tiny smile. Sowing oats in this case definitely meant sex—something I could get behind, but right now I needed to finish telling the story.

I went on, “I didn’t get the chance to sow any oats. My Devil stopped me.”

“Somehow I doubt all he did was stop you.”

“He didn’t touch me for two years. He could’ve. He could’ve taken whatever he wanted from me when I was in that room, over and over again—but he didn’t. When he found me with that other guy, it was like he lost it.”

“Or maybe,” Fang interjected, “he decided he’d waited for you long enough.” As he let the possibility sink in, he asked,“And you’re sure there’s no way he was a part of the group that took you tonight?”

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