Her blonde hair looks almost white in the moonlight. I gently touch a lock and bring it to my nose, inhaling the scent of tropical coconut and summers on the beach.
A soft breath escapes her as I let go of her hair, and she rolls over onto her back.
How does something so lovely and untainted come from a monster like Mr. van der Meer? A man who didn’t think twice about raping and torturing a mother of a young, terrified child in front of her husband.
My father had to watch her scream and cry and beg for her life before they finally put a bullet through his head. And my mom? Well, that was the last time I saw her. Once my father was dead, Mom was dragged out of there, naked, bruised, and bleeding. All in the name of the secret society that raised me.
It’s funny how that works. We accept the old traditions blindly. We don’t rebel. Not in the traditional sense, anyway.
I hook a finger in the quilt and pull it down to reveal the swell of Cecilia’s generous tits inside the silk gown she wears. Mr. van der Meer’s daughter soon grew up.
As I trace my thumb over her plump bottom lip, her soft breath fans my skin. At least she’s agreeable when she’s asleep, but even so, I miss her smart mouth.
The steel doorcreaks open on rusty hinges, and I descend the spiral stone steps to the cellar, where the cell is located. This small space is cold and damp and smells of mold and rot.
I light the torch on the wall. “Your daughter tastes divine, van der Meer. Quite delectable.”
A shadowed figure slowly comes into the light, shuffling on the floor.
Covered from head to toe in grime, Cecilia’s emaciated father grabs hold of the bars and presses his face up close. “Touch a hair on her head and?—”
“You will what? Kill me?” A bitter laugh echoes off the stone walls. “You did that a long time ago, van der Meer, when you broke into my home and murdered my family. It’s only fair that I return the favor. We’re family now, after all.”
I take great joy in seeing him blanch. Years locked up in my cellar have reduced him to bones and tattered clothes. The seemingly larger-than-life man who destroyed my family is nowhere to be seen.
“That’s right,” I reply to his unanswered question. “Your daughter is now my wife. Oh, don’t look at me like that,” I say when he looks like he might throw up. “She was quite the willing participant.”
Okay, I’m exaggerating, but he doesn’t know that.
“You thought I wouldn’t find her. That I thought she was dead.” Shaking my head, I crouch down before him. “I’m not that easily fooled. You see, I had you captured, but then your wife disappeared with your daughter before I could find them—beforeanyonein the Exodus could. Your wife hid her well from the greedy wolves, I’ll give you that. I looked for her everywherewithout luck, but then one day, your daughter walked into my territory to revenge your name.”
My face breaks into a deranged smile. “Like a turkey jumping up onto a Christmas table.”
“Please don’t hurt her,” he pleads.
His sour stench assaults my nostrils, so I waft it away. “How does it feel to rot away in your own feces, van der Meer? Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” I rise to stand. “I have no intention of hurting your daughter because, unlike you, I don’t touch women unless it’s to bring them pleasure; remember that when you’re stuck in the dark with nothing but your thoughts to eat you alive. Everything you’ve ever owned is mine—your precious money, legacy, and even your daughter.”
The satisfaction I feel seeing him reduced to nothing is unrivaled. I could feast on the sight for eternity and never grow bored.
“And your daughter’s tight pussy?” I stare down at him with a cold smirk. “It looks so fucking pretty after I’ve stuffed it with cum.”
“You’re a sick asshole,” he sneers weakly, retreating into the shadows.
“Maybe,” I agree, then stroll to the door with my hands in my pockets. “Do you think your daughter will hold you in such high regard if she finds out what a sadist you are?”
His eyes seem to gleam in the dark. “You think you’re any better? You think she’ll love you when she finds out you’re keeping her father locked up in your cellar?”
“With all due respect, Mr. van der Meer. I didn’t marry your daughter because I wanted a companion. I married her because I knew how much it would torment your mind to know I’m fucking her every chance I get. She’s a little slut, you know? Moans like a porn star. Always ready to be bent over the desk and fucked to within an inch of her life.”
I haven’t actually fucked her yet, but the white lie is worth seeing the rage on her father’s face.
“Because I’m feeling generous tonight, I’ll leave the torch lit and let you enjoy a few hours of light.” Turning on my heel, I leave him to wither away in misery, forgotten and insignificant.
Weeks have passed since I became Darian Delacroix’s imprisoned wife in his ivory tower of wretchedness. I haven’t seen much of him since. He has made himself scarce, always locked in his office or attending meetings, and my feeble attempts at pissing him off seem to go mostly ignored, though I’m not blind to the unfortunate staff that has to clean up after me.
Today, I’m bored.
Bored of having nothing to do.
