I will be her provider. Her savior. Her absolute captor.
5
Maya
Flames. Hellfire. Oh my fucking god.
It burns. It hurts. I can’t fucking breathe.
I can no longer differentiate between my worst nightmares and my reality. The fingers pressing against my lips burn, blackening my lungs with their toxic poison. It’s Graham’s fingers. And they are not the only thing incinerating me.
Valeria’s eyes are fixed right on us as he caresses my bottom lip like a lover. My heart beats so violently that my veins can’t keep up, pulsing erratically beneath my skin. She’s staring straight at me as her husband leans in to kiss me. I want to stop his lips from meeting mine so bad, but it’s like I’m entirely paralyzed. When I look down at my body, I notice my arms are tied tightly in front of me with thick, rough ropes that prickle and bite deep into my flesh.
His mouth crashes into mine, and it feels like he’s sucking the very colors out of my life, leaving me drowning in a suffocating sea of grey. My heart slows down, staggering, almost stopping completely. It's like he stole the life right out from between my lips. Like he’s the Angel of Death himself.
But when my eyes snap back to Valeria, my heart lurches violently back to life. It isn’t from love or relief; it’s from pure terror. Because my sister’s beautiful features are twisting into an otherworldly creature. Devil horns sprout through her perfect,bleached hair, her sneer turning demonic with way too many sharp teeth, and she reaches her hand forward, engulfing me in fire.
Every single inch of me, from my toes to the roots of my hair, catches in the flames. I can’t fucking breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.
My body jolts awake from the nightmare, a gasp ripping from my throat. But when I finally force my eyes to open, they widen in sheer horror. The nightmare hasn’t stopped.
My bedroom is slowly catching fire. Thick smoke curls toward the ceiling, and standing right in the middle of the heat is the vintage Versace dress Graham gifted me, its silk fabric slowly turning to ash.
Valeria.
I fling my body off the bed, coughing violently as the smoke fills my lungs. Spotting the glass water pitcher sitting on my nightstand, I grab it and throw it onto the rapidly growing flames. But instead of decreasing, the fire erupts with a vicious, angry roar. The heat blasts backward, and I swear I feel the white-hot flames lick aggressively at my bare skin.
Completely consumed by panic, I let out a blood-curdling scream.
In an instant, Graham comes running into the room, his expression unhinged. He is followed quickly by Sasha, one of the housekeepers, who carries a heavy fire extinguisher. I keep screaming until the last of the fire dies out, leaving behind nothing but the rancid smell of burning fabric. Only then do I collapse onto the hardwood floor, trying to draw fresh air while sobbing uncontrollably at the same time.
My own sister tried to kill me today. Over a fucking dress. What the hell will she do when she finds out her husband wants to fuck me?
Graham kneels down next to me on the smoke-stained floor. All I can see is the dark material of his sweatpants because I refuse to look up at his face, terrified of whatever predatory thing I might find lurking there. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him gesture toward the door. He’s telling Sasha to get out now that the flames are dealt with.
As if I’m watching my own life play out in slow motion, I see his large hand moving toward my face. Without a single coherent thought, my instincts flare, and I reach up to stop him.
“No!” I hiss.
This feels too much like my nightmare. Any second now, my sister will appear at the door and turn into a devil, and I will be the one paying the price—even if it’s her own husband who is throwing himself at me.
An ugly scowl draws itself onto his handsome features. He shakes my grip off his wrist like it’s nothing but a stray feather. His fingers bury into my hair to caress my scalp, and just like in my dream, my heart staggers. It slows down, getting heavier and heavier until I feel like I might actually die right here on the floor.
“I told you no,” I whisper, barely having enough oxygen left to form the words.
The scowl on his face returns ten times worse, twisting into a dark snarl. His fingers suddenly tighten in my hair, the tug stinging my scalp. He uses his bruising hold on me to force my head back, twisting my face up so I have no choice but to look directly into the pitch-black eyes I was trying so hard to avoid.
“You. Don’t. Tell. Me. No,” he growls. With every single word, his grip tightens.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into? Staying in the same house with two psychopaths?
Like I telepathically summoned her from the dark, the hurried click of soft footsteps scatters across the floor outside. She’s coming.
Graham transitions back to stroking my hair gently. Oh my god. Please, God, no. She’s going to walk in here and see her husband all over me, and she will become the literal devil from my dreams. She already tried to incinerate me once tonight.
Valeria comes to a stop right in the doorway. Just like in my nightmare, my heart—which had been slowing to a near stop—lurches violently back to life.
Her slender body leans against the doorframe. There is a faint smirk lingering on her beautiful face, but her eyes blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the dim, smoke-filled room. When they finally focus, she notices her husband’s hand stroking my hair. Graham turns his head and glares at her, treating her likeshe’san unwanted intruder for interrupting us.
