Page 93 of Phantom
“Very good.” He grins wickedly at me. “And make sure you don’t try to pull them down or you could fall into the fire behind you.”
“Sol! Stop this right now! Let me go!I want to go home!”
“No. You will learn your lesson.”
“Which is?”
“No more lying.”
I bark out a laugh. “That’s funny, coming from you.”
“I haven’t lied once, Scarlett. But you?” He appears in my vision again, holding an unlit crimson tapered candle by its holder. “You have been full of them today.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I hiss back, trying to maintain my rebellion while also scouring my memory for every time I lied today alone.
“Another one,” he tsks. “My mother always said that liars go to hell, Scarlett. Do you know what hell feels like? Because I do.” His admission makes me pause at the pain in his eyes, but as he keeps going, all sympathy disappears. “I don’t wish that pain on you, but you do need to be taught a lesson. So here it is.”
He disappears to stand behind me near the fireplace. It’s not scorching but my bare legs are getting warm. Then he steps back into my vision with the tapered red candle newly lit.
“Sol…” I whisper carefully. “What are you doing?”
He looks into my eyes as he passes his hand over the flame and keeps it there.
“Stop! You’ll hurt yourself!” I yell. My heart squeezes for him, and tears prickle behind my eyes.
He raises his brow. “I’m surprised you care. I thought youhatedme.”
“I-I do. Hate you,” I insist, but my eyes can’t leave where the flame licks his palm. He finally takes it away and shows me the light char on his skin. A sickly smell of burned flesh wafts toward me.
“Why would you do that?” Tears stream down my face and his triumphant smile slips.
“Shh. Shh. Oh, baby. Don’t cry for me.” He steps closer and wipes away a tear with his thumb as he murmurs reverently. “What pretty tears you shed for someone you hate.”
My eyes narrow, pushing out more tears despite what I vow next. “Believe me, I won’t shed another one for you. Not when you string me up and taunt me about how you’re going to torture me.”
He kneels and sets the candle on the black marble hearth. “The torture will be so delicious, though, Scarlett. I promise to make it worth our while. I used to be deathly afraid of fire. So much so that I didn’t even like candles on my birthday cake. I earned the fear, but then I learned how to beat the fear by conquering the pain fire caused me. Now, I’m its master.”
His fingers skim up my thighs until they curl around my panties. He tugs them down and my heart stutters as he drops them to the ground. His gaze seems to catch on a loose thread at the bottom of my dress hem. He grabs the candle again while he fingers the thread, and I still completely.
“Sol…” I whisper but he shushes me again.
“Trust me, Scarlett. Trust the man who is about to torture pleasure from you. Do you trust me?”
“I… I do,” I answer honestly, but my bottom lip trembles. “I don’t know what you’re doing. What if… what if I can’t handle it? What if it hurts?”
His brow softens. “Do you really think that? That I’ll hurt you?”
“I don’t know. I’m just afraid.”
Hurt flashes over his face. “Pretty muse, I’ve told you before that I would never hurt you. If you think I will… well then not only do you not trust me, but you’re lying to yourself, too. So now is your lesson. You need to be honest, Scarlett. With me, and yourself. This is a demonstration. All the lies you tell yourself—and me—will go up in smoke… just like your dress.”
“No, Sol—please…” I can’t stop staring down at him as he holds the candle to the hem of my dress. A spark of fear mixed with intrigued arousal flutters in my core. The last feeling floats all the way up to my chest as I realize… Idotrust him. He won’t hurt me. But self-preservation is still riding me hard, and I can’t resist the urge to fight him. “Stop… What’re you—”
A tiny flame erupts on the fabric and I shriek. It’s small, staying no bigger than an eraser as it burns through the fabric in a rising line. Even though it’s nowhere near actually touching me, I try to scoot back to get my skin away from it, but the fire at my back grows hotter against my calves. The flame increasingly warms the fabric and begins to heat my thighs.
Even as fear races in my veins, a much different kind of warmth aches in my center at the way Sol’s eager face lights up while my dress continues to disintegrate, revealing more of me to him. The fire rises and the back of my neck prickles with sweat, but Sol’s attentiveness burns hotter than anything on my dress. Before I can truly feel it on my skin—or the panic I know I should be feeling—Sol grabs my hips and blows the traveling flame out, snuffing it instantly.
“Shh… Scarlett. You’re safe. You’re always safe with me.”
