Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Hevan
As soon as I was confident he left, I rushed to refill my glass and drank down two glasses of water before stopping myself from having more.
I don’t know how long I was curled up in a ball on the shower floor, but it felt incredible to wash away the dirt along with my tears under the heat and warmth of the jet stream. Eventually, I decided to face the night head-on. After all, I’ve already been through hell. How bad can it be?
After lavishing my body with the silky body wash, I washed my hair, ignoring the lump on the back of my head. It feels like a lifetime ago I received the injury, when in reality it’s only been a couple of days.
There’s an array of products beneath the sink: toothbrushes, combs, face creams, natural makeup products, and waxing products, all of which appear unused.
I coat my skin in the velvety creams that smell of luxury, blow-dry my hair, then, with nerves rushing through me, I slowly open the bathroom door.
I’m grateful to find the bedroom still empty, and with a towel wrapped around me, I walk over to the dresser, which houses a mirror above it, and open the drawer but find it empty.
I move on to the next, and the next, and each one is bare. Opening the double doors, I expect there to be a closet, and though I’m right, there’s nothing hanging in there either. It’s just a large room with mirrored walls and a large chair resting against the back wall.
My mouth becomes increasingly dry as the time ticks on, and I chew on the corner of my nail, anxiety creeping up my spine with an incredible sense of expectation looming in the air.
I mentally prepare, telling myself this is the only option, the one to cause me less pain and trauma in the long run.
Azrael might coerce me into having sex with him, but at least he’s good-looking, unlike some men who entered the basement and forced themselves on the women until they screamed or passed out.
He doesn’t seem like them at all; my body came alive in ways almost foreign to me when he spoke those filthy words that had heat traveling over my body like a punishment and a balm.
I’ve considered fighting Azrael, I have. I even searched for something to use as a weapon but came up blank, or perhaps I was too scared to try.
I’m not blind to the evil behind his eyes; no, I see it first and foremost. It’s blindingly obvious. The man wears it with pride, but it’s the fleck of light behind his maniacal glower that draws me in and gives me hope there’s more to the man than the sadistic gleam.
I find myself standing at the edge of the bed, and knowing my fate, I pull back the satin comforter, drop the towel, slip inside the sheets, and lie in wait for the devil to take me.