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Mae raises shaky hands to her forehead. Her fingertips brush against the bandage and she winces. Most likely due to a hangover, since her injury is a mere scratch.
She cracks her eyes open and uses her elbows to get up, but her body fails her. With an exaggerated groan, she closes her eyes and collapses back on the metallic bed with clean sheets.
Once again, the dungeon room is submerged in total silence. Only the faint sound of our breathing echoes.
Her eyes shoot open and she sits in bed, with ease this time. She looks down on herself and releases a puff of air. Then, she scans the dimly lit room with a haunted look, like she’s expecting a monster to pop out any second.
Placing one hand in my trousers’ pocket, I push out of the corner, granting her what she’s searching.
Mae’s movements freeze. Her mouth hangs open and her pupils dilate, decreasing their blueness. She swallows and stares at me for what seems like hours, assessing every inch of me. All the while, her fists clench the mattress’s material.
It’s visible. The realisation that she no longer has her princess-like life and bright entourage. That her dreams are substituted by a dungeon and me.
Typical reaction.
You see them struggle to make out the reality of things. Then, they resort to bargaining with their little heads, trying to draw a magical escape. When that doesn’t work, their world shatters to bloody pieces. Their beliefs scatter all around them and their minds bombard with ‘why me?’ and ‘who is he?’
It’s wonderful.
Their reactions make my heartbeat rush. My hand yearns to plunge a knife into their skin. Listen to the sound of steel infiltrating the fresh. Feel tendons rip under my grip. Watch blood pool around them as life leaves their eyes.
Until now.
Do I really want the blueness of her eyes to fade away?
“What do you want from me?”
Although trepidation creeps in her features, she neither trembles, stutters nor swallows. Her voice is smoother than the room’s silence.
I glare at her and she stares back, unwavering. Straightening, her breathing evens out and her gaze shines with determination as if telling me she won’t back down. That she’s different. Challenging me. Taunting my demons.
Did she figure that I thrive on fear? Is that why she hides it?
My left eye twitches. So many complications over a nobody. Who the fuck is this girl to alter my clear courses of action?
With firm composed steps, I stride towards her. She doesn’t cower away. Instead, her chest bumps forward, pressing her breasts against the thin material of her more-sinful-than-sin dress.
I stand a few inches from the bed and lower my head until I breathe tequila and a hint of citrus.
Her eyes meet mine. Then it clicks.
I don’t know if it’s because of something she sees in my face, but her short-lived courage abandons her as fast as it came. Her shoulders hunch, and she wraps her arms around her waist.
I smirk when the familiar shivering takes hold of her body.
That’s it. Fear. The more I collect, the better I experience the thrill.
Who says blood is the joy of it all?
Mae may be the next level of entertainment. After all, there is no limit to the amount of sadistic deeds my demons can offer.
First thought: paint those blue eyes black.
Chapter Six
Mae
He’s anything but what I imagined him to be.
