Page 41 of Deviant

“Yes.” I say.

“I’m ready,” he states like he has a clue what he’s talking about. As if he even understands what’s involved with achieving such a goal.

“No, you’re not.” I murmur. But he will be. I’ll make sure of that. It’s family first. It always has been. And becoming Chapter Lord will ensure our family will triumph over every other family here.

It was stupid to goad him. Stupid to open my mouth.

But how could I stay quiet?

How could I just lay there after all he’d done, after letting that man rape me and then raping me himself as if I’d somehow betrayed him?

My arm is throbbing where he took a chunk out of it, the blood is trickling down my bicep, and I can’t even look at it without feeling sick.

I stink of sweat, blood, and come.

It turns my stomach so much that as I try to sit up, I realise that feeling isn’t just that, a feeling. I really am going to puke.

I barely make it to the bucket before I spew the meagre contents of my stomach everywhere. Only, I makethe mistake of opening my eyes, of seeing it, my blood, and his come, all mixed together and that memory comes flooding back of how he forced that vile concoction down my throat. Even with the taste of vomit fresh in my mouth, it still lingers on my tongue, in my teeth.

I would give anything for a bath right now. Anything to scrub myself clean and wash away all the disgusting evidence of what’s been done.

I start dry heaving, sobbing, giving into the pain, and the fear, and the abject terror that comes with the knowledge that this is only going to get worse.

That my words will have repercussions.

Every point I score, becomes a stick for Magnus to beat me with later.

I collapse onto the floor, not even bothering to move away from the filth I’ve made, and I shut my eyes, trying to will my mind to disappear, to retreat, to fool me into believing I’m somewhere else, somewhere safe, somewhere warm, somewhere far away from my current hell.

When the butler comes, he doesn’t even look at me, he just places the tray down and leaves as quickly as he can. I can’t say I blame him considering, but I still hate him all the same because he could help me. He could. He’s just as complicit by turning a blind eye.

I drag my body over to where the food is. I’m not hungry, but I’m gasping for water. Gasping for anything that will rid my mouth of the taste of vomit.

As I pick the cup up and take a huge swig, I immediately wretch and spit it back up. It’s not water. At least, not entirely. It tastes like salt. It tastes like come.

That bastard spunked all in my cup. He fouled it. I toss the entire contents in anger and wipe my mouth as those tears fall even harder.

I thought the taste of vomit was bad enough, but now I’d do anything to rid myself of the one that’s replaced it.

Only there’s nothing else. No food. Nothing but that come filled mess and it drips down the wall, collecting in a pool that I swear I can smell from the other side of the cell.

Idon’t know how long I sleep for. I know it wasn’t long and it certainly wasn’t peaceful.

Magnus strides into my cell, turning his nose up at the sight of me like he expected me to be smelling of roses and dolled up to the nines.

My skin prickles as he gets nearer and that jolt of adrenaline in my stomach makes me so close to puking again.

God, I can only imagine what he would do if I hurled up all over his shiny oxfords.

He clicks his fingers and two women appear, both of them are dressed in the same plain uniform that suggests they’re maids. With barely a reaction, they grab hold of me and I’m practically dragged fromthe darkness.

“Clean her up.” Magnus commands behind us. “I want her immaculate. I want her cunt so smooth I can eat off it.”

The reaction I get to that, the way my stomach suddenly heaves up bile, is uncontrollable, and before I can do anything I really do puke, all over me, all over them.

All over his pristine damn leather shoes.

He lets out a sigh as though I’m nothing more than an irritation. A fly he needs to swat. And then he waves his hand before leaving us to it.

---