Page 47 of Ruthless Keeper
A mixture of anger and pain tighten my chest. I don’t realize that I’ve, in turn, tightened my hold on Scarlett until she lets out a small yelp. I quickly readjust and press a kiss to her neck. “I’m not your father,” I remind her, trying to keep my tone patient. “Do I act like him?”
“You’ve hurt me worse than he ever has.”
My jaw clenches, and I’m grateful that she can’t see my face or my expressions, but even now… my patience with her resistance is slim. “Why did he hurt you, Scarlett?”
“For my original sin.”
Her words jog my memory. She said something similar to me, many months ago, when she was still trapped in one of the annex’s cells.
“And what sin is that?” She doesn’t reply; I give her waist a warning squeeze. “What sin, Scarlett?”
She swallows. “For being born a woman.”
Jesus Christ. I can’t imagine Scarlett as a child, living in a house with a man who was angry at her for having the gall to exist. Who beat her, hurt her, scarred her, traumatized her in ways that can never be undone. I want to help her heal, but I don’t know how. So, I press onward.
“Why did I hurt you, Scarlett?”
She pauses for a long moment, then says, “Because you thought I played a hand in your brother’s torture and murder.”
“And have I hurt you since?”
She pauses for several long moments. “Yes.”
“I didn’t know you were a virgin,” I remind her yet again. “If I had known, that night would’ve gone down differently. What did I do as soon as I found out?” When she doesn’t reply, I answer for her, “I made you feel good. Now, have Iintentionallyhurt you since I pulled you out of the annex?”
“Intent doesn’t matter,” she murmurs. “Only results do. And we both know what the results are.”
My jaw tightens until I hear it crack with strain. I carefully maneuver her around, forcing her to face me, and cup her face in both of my hands. “I’m not letting you go, Flower. You could beg me, bargain with me, try everything in your power… and it wouldn’t change my mind. I’m a selfish man, and you’re mine. I won’t share you with the world. But, if you let me in, I would be so good to you.” I lean forward, touching our foreheads. “I’d be so goddamn good to you, Scarlett. If only you’d let yourself be mine… and take me to be yours.”
“You’re not proposing a marriage, Monster. You’re proposing unending ownership.”
“A life in which we own each other,” I emphasize. “I may have the power, but you… you fucking own my soul, baby. Why can’t you see that?” I sigh. “Why won’t you just… give me a chance?”
“Depriving you makes you at least a little miserable. That’s just about the only power I have left.”
“No,” I disagree. “You could choose to make both of us happy. You could decide to give me a chance to right my wrongs. To giveusa chance.” I stroke my thumb over her bottom lip. “Scarlett… you have to know there’s something between us. A connection. Even if you don’tlikeit, you mustfeelit.” She swallows and averts her gaze. “Look at me and tell me you don’t feel it,” I tell her.
She reluctantly returns her gaze to my own. “I feel it,” she admits quietly. “It’s something twisted and sinister. It’s like a tugging sensation, but really, all it represents is my descent into an eternal hellscape.”
“You’re wrong,” I insist. “It only feels that way because you won’t let me in even a little. I’m a bad man, Scarlett—I’ll be the first one to say that. But I won’tbe badto you.”
“The things you do to me…” she trails off, shaking her head. “They’re just an example of how you torture me. You might not be hurting me anymore, but it’s torture all the same.”
“It’s training,” I correct. “And, sometimes, punishment. Now, look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t found those experiences erotic.”
“I don’t find being tied up and degraded to a plaything erotic,” she snaps.
Even as she says the words with conviction, her eyes hold a flicker of doubt, of deception. “Liar.”
“Fuck you!”
“Even if you don’t stop lying to me, there’s a point where you can’t keep lying to yourself,” I say harshly. “You’re as fucked up as I am.”
“I wouldneverdo what you’ve done.”
“Wouldn’t you?” I ask sharply. “You poisoned a cup of tea and watched me drink it. Then, you told me that I could either forfeit my claim on you or die.”
“I didn’t have a choice!”
