Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Hevan
I don’t know what he expects me to do all day while he’s gone doing God knows what, or God knows who, more like.
But after showering, I spent the day with my thoughts bouncing from the auction house to Azrael essentially rescuing me.
In reality, he kidnapped me, against my will, kind of.
Why do I have an attraction toward a man who tore through my virginity? Who purchased me like an animal.
Why the hell did I have to be so attracted to someone who appears so completely insane and is holding me captive? There has to be something fundamentally wrong with me, surely.
But when his gaze lands on me, I feel something inside I’ve never experienced before—safety. How can that be?
The vulnerability he thinks he masks so well, shines through like a spotlight, pulling me in and urging me to give myself over to him, to reassure him of the man he is, and more than that, push him to be more.
Then I moved on to the horrifying thoughts of what would have happened to me had he not stepped in.
That’s not something I can begin to wrap my head around.
No, death would be kinder, and I can’t let that happen.
Not only is Azrael the best option, but he’s the only option, and truth is, I’m weirdly okay with that.
For now.
When the time is right, I’ll make a run for it, but for now, I’ll embrace his demons while I discover my own.
The look in his eyes as he realized he’d taken my virginity was pure carnal need coupled with regret.
Then, after he came down from his orgasm, came the hysteria.
He went from cruelly insulting me to staring at me like I was his everything, and don’t even get me started on the way he commands my body and its natural reaction to him.
It’s almost as if he does indeed control me.
The woman at the auction house flashes at the front of my mind, and I wonder how often she’s been there and how many times Azrael has used her.
Jealousy curdles in my stomach, then I immediately resent myself for it.
I’ve absolutely no place to have an attraction to my captor, least of all one who believes wholeheartedly he’s purchased me like some prized cattle and I’m his sex slave.
The words little toy dance in my mind, and I squeeze my thighs together with a growing need.
A knock sounds at the door, and I leap off the bed with the bed sheet to my chin and back up against the wall as the door is pushed open. A woman in her mid-thirties walks in with a tray in her hands and her head low. She’s clearly a housekeeper with the way she’s dressed; a pretty one at that.
I watch frozen in place. My mind screams at me to ask her for help, to plead with her to aid me in a bid to escape, but my body shuts down, shell-shocked by her mere presence. She moves toward the dresser and places the tray down.
“Eat.” She gestures toward the tray without making eye contact, then leaves the room, taking all hope of help with her.
The scent of soup fills the air, and I find myself over at the tray before I can second-guess myself.
Removing the lid from the meal, I inhale the steaming tomato scent; the bread roll appears freshly baked and warm to the touch.
“So good,” I moan, and cram another piece into my mouth, unable to wait to butter the roll.
It must have been days since I last ate, and I intend to savor every mouthful.
I can’t help but wonder if the soup is drugged, but I’m so hungry I don’t have it in me to care.
Although, deep inside, I know Azrael would be freaked out if I weren’t compliant in his sexcapades, and I find it worryingly odd that it somewhat soothes me.
After checking out the room, I lift the tray and take it over to the chair that Azrael was seated at.
Each mouthful tastes better than the last, and when I come to the end of the meal, I’m disappointed there isn’t more.
I guzzle the orange juice down and swipe a hand over my mouth when I finish. Jeez, that was so good.
At least the man isn’t choosing to starve me.
I place the glass back on the tray, but my fingers twitch to take it to use as a weapon.
However, something tells me Azrael wouldn’t care; in fact, he’d welcome the fight.
I decide against it and place the tray back on the dresser and head back to bed.
Resting my head on the pillow, I turn into the familiar scent of a woody, citrus smell.
It’s fresh and alluring, so I bring the pillow closer to my face and close my eyes, welcoming the darkness.
Lying in wait is a man willing to protect me from the nightmares.
He’s the devil in the night, but he’s also my savior.