In a sudden mood for wrath, I stubbed my cigar on the floor before tamping down my irritation, unclenching my fist. I strode closer. The repellant smell was warning enough to scream of every shade of forbidden.
The greenhouse was locked from the outside, but that wasn’t all. With an icy coldness, I flung the door open in a sharp movement, my lips pursed together. In the middle of the chaotic scenery, an angel fallen from heaven was huddled on the paving stones.
Lily.She slept on her side, her spine curved, pulling her legs close to her frigid body. Her dress was tarnished by soil, small cuts inked on her skin as a somber memory of the night of terror she had passed. Her lips were a crimson purple, similar to the Devil’s Corpse’s bewitching color. The memory of her tears remained on her face. Her makeup was nonexistent, washed away with the fright.
But my attention remained on her savage bronze-copper hair. It was freed, flowers stuck inside it like wild lianas shielding her from the outside world. Sunrise illuminated her face in a vibrant glow. A golden tunnel in the midst of the darkness.
She was a flower goddess.
She screamed of misery and weakness—everything I loathed in anyone else. And yet, it made her beautiful. My nostrils flared. I didn’t feel pity for her. On the contrary, I enjoyed the sight of her at my mercy. My lips pressed into a thin line, and a muscle in my jaw clenched. A sudden desire to make whoever was responsible for her state pay pierced my nonexistent heart.
I shouldn’t care.
I didn’t care.
I would not care.
That little witch had put a spell on me, compelling me to look over her in silence. An achievement no woman had succeeded before her. In her distress, she had planted dark thoughts in me. As if Eros had struck me with one of his stupid arrows, transforming me into a sexually frustrated beast. I yearned to possess her soul, to show her my hell.
I was hell-bent on keeping her.
Imprisoning her with me.
Kidnapping her from her world.
She made me reconsider all my rules. I couldn’t be infatuated with her. I wasn’t capable of such feelings. Lily was supposed to be gone from my life after the chase. She was a destructive illusion. But that flower goddess awoke the villain in me that wanted to be fed.
The right and only choice was to turn back. I sent a text message to Hugo, asking him to wake her up. After all, it was his job to play the host, not mine. I stalked toward the door, determined to get back inside the peace of my manor. But as I grabbed the handle, an invisible force prevented me from moving forward.
To hell. To fucking hell.
I bit back the fresh swell of irritation growing inside of me, removing my four-thousand-euro tailored suit jacket. I walked back to her, the sound of my footsteps echoing on the floor.
Flames of disapproval licked through me when I laid down the jacket on her naked skin. I tucked her in like a precious jewel. The darkness of my eyes caught her too-perfect face one last time before I disappeared from the greenhouse.
Rushing outside, I flexed my fingers in a sharp movement. The sun behind my back, I entered the murky obscurity of my manor, calling that impostor Eugene Edmond.
“Mr. Radcliff, I—”
“I’m keeping her.”
I hung up.
After all, she didn’t deserve a prick like him. He was unworthy of her.
I would have thought that I was saving her, but I was not.
I was worse than any other man on Earth.
I was the Devil, after all.
Afeeling of warmth invaded my core, breaking through the icy obscurity of last night. Through my closed eyelids, a soft white-gold light wrestled to illuminate the abyss of my dreams. Hope surged through my veins when I slowly opened my eyes, facing the wintry sun. My gaze was blurry at first; I had to adjust my sight to distinguish where I was.
I swept my eyes to the corpse flower. It seemed she had been watching over me. Her petals, crimsoned in venous blood, had blossomed as soft as roses. The thorns, as sharp as razor blades, shone in the sun, and the heavy patchouli filled my nostrils. Under this visual poetry, the flashbacks of last night blasted through my core in a rush.
New Year’s Eve.
Radcliff.
