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A groan resonates into my mouth, and his hold on my wrists loosens. I lower my hands to his shoulders, preparing for a strong grip for leverage. My lungs tighten and burn from how long I hold my breath.
He cups my cheek. I feel the strain in his fingers…like he wants to do more.
I dig my fingers into his powerful shoulders, feel his muscles respond, feel that massive length throb against my belly.
He lowers his other hand to grip the side of my dress to raise it.
And I lift my knee and drive it hard and fast—right into his mother-fucking balls!
“Godsfuckingdamnsonofacupidbow—!” he roars, breaking his grip, stumbling from the explosion of pain.
I lurch, escaping, running, and making a beeline for the closest door, careless if it’s a closet door.
Breaths careening, pulse spinning, I plunge inside, slamming the door behind me, and jam the nearest thing I can find beneath the door to hold it in place. I don’t care if it does nothing. He could easily break it down. Especially when it’s little more than wood with narrowed gaps at its center. But I just proved a point. Curling up on the floor, huddling into the darkness, into myself, I grab another shoe and armor myself with the heel.
Half a heartbeat later, I make out the dark familiar silhouette from beyond the door. And the shadow betraying his feet.
“Are you going to come out now?” His deep voice echoes, pulsing down my chest like distant thunder.
Frenzied gasps escape my throat, and I shake my head and shout, “Go away!”
“You know how simple it would be to take this door off its hinges and reach in and grab you, little one?”
I assumed as much. “I’m not coming out untilhecomes back!”
A pause. A rush of heavy breath.
“Who?”
“Him! The real ruler of this place. The gargoyle.”The one who kissed my soul. A real kiss. A kiss with real love—love that would last for eternity.
“You mean the monster who locked you in a fucking dungeon with gods-damned chains?” he snarls.
“Yes. That monster. Just go away. Please, don’t…” —Don’t kiss me, don’t hurt me, break down the door, don’t…fuck me. “Just go. I don’t want you. I wanthim.”
The tension practically bleeds through the door cracks. My breath hammers my eardrums. My fingers have whitened from how hard I’m gripping the damn shoe while I pray for the man outside to leave.
I know the gargoyle isn’t safe. I know he completely admitted that he is going to eat me, devour me. I know he hurt me, locked me up. Yes, he hunted me, but he could have killed me whenever he wanted. He played with me. And he could have done so much more. Hell, he promised he would do more. He wanted more.
“Much, much more, Butterfly.”His words echo in my memory, haunting me with their promise. And maybe…I want more.
So, where is he? Why would he just…leave me? After that kiss, why would he abandon me?
Silent tears slip down my cheeks as I picture the violent beauty of the monster who is my savior and my captor. Not a hungering lover who hides in the dark and doesn’t care to gaze at the windows of my soul when he fucks me.
More breaths, more heartbeats pass. Once I look up, the silhouette is gone. The shadow under the door has vanished.
Heaving, shoulders lowering in utter relief, I crawl deeper into the closet, finding it much larger than I previously thought.
Tugging down multiple dresses, I wrap myself in the loose fabric for warmth, fold myself in layers of darkness, and settle in to sleep as my spiraling adrenaline crashes.
10
She wanted the gargoyle?
EROS
What in all the ever-bloody Valentine’s fucking hearts?
