Chapter 24
24
Samantha
Kill me?
Pulling away, he stopped me from leaving, holding my chin in his hand. “I would never hurt you; but the impulse to devour your soul claws at me.” I’d never seen the man this raw, this terrified. His voice sounded agonized, and his eyes were filled with fear. Not a single breath dared pass my lips.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered.
Gently, he tugged my bottom lip with his teeth while his thumb grazed the small cut on my chest. Finally, I inhaled a long drag of fresh air, dropping my forehead to his shoulder while I asked myself what I was doing.
Ramone flattened his hand against my upper chest, one finger wandering to press the hollow at the base of my throat as if he were counting every beat of my heart at the pulse point. He’s grounding himself, I realized with a start. Why he was using me in that manner was a mystery. Was he dependent on me? It was becoming harder and harder to remember I was dreaming.
I took another deep breath and straightened myself up, avoiding his gaze as he drew his finger back. I had to consider with all seriousness, that just maybe I wasn’t sleeping. If I wasn’t, it flew in the face of all rational and objective thought. Wandering into fantasy and fairy tales was for small children, not full-grown adults.
I’d sincerely believed I’d fallen into a temporary stress-induced psychosis state, brought on by changing circumstances. Then, I’d flirted with the idea that perhaps I could trust my own experiences, and finally, I’d re-convinced myself I was the victim of mental illness. Now, here I was, back in the risky status of possibly trusting my instincts. They were screaming at me, shouting from the rooftops that what I was experiencing with Ramone was real.
“Earlier, were you implying that this is real?” I’d been lying to myself for a while, and I didn’t want to admit it out loud.
Ramone’s mouth slid into a smile. “I wasn’t implying anything, my love. I assure you, I’m real.”
Taking a step back, I rephrased the question. “I mean this, this place. Is this real?” He ran his tongue along his teeth and then nodded. My heart began pounding a frenetic beat. “I’m not dreaming. Are you dreaming?”
He took a single step closer. “When I look at you, when I see you, I am convinced I am in a dream from which I never want to wake. From the moment I spotted you, you’ve consumed my every thought, my every desire, and I claimed you in that singular instant. There is nowhere you could have gone, and no where you have yet to go, in which I won’t find you.”
Ramone closed the space between us. “I’ll chase you through your dreams and pursue you through my own. I will tear apart every dimension if it means I’m reflected in your gaze one more time.”
“You’re scaring me,” I said softly, the ramifications of his extreme poetic words prickling my skin. It was above and beyond anything anyone had ever said to me, and I was having trouble processing his intense declarations. I knew he was serious as I somehow had an enhanced ability to read him here, wherever we were.
He kissed my temple and took my hand. “You should be scared. I’ll devour your soul if it's the only way to keep you.”
We followed the road through the woods while I tried to take in the scenery and rifle through everything he’d said. He’d neither confirmed nor denied whether or not I was lying in my bed, asleep, or if I was physically present in this unique space.
My body felt real, his touch felt real, the breeze lifting my hair from my shoulders didn’t seem manufactured. If I was unconscious, I was more present than I’d expect to be under those circumstances. It was as if I were trapped in the little cottage, again.
I’d told the man guiding me toward some castle that I’d never wanted to see him again, and yet here I was, holding his manicured, decorated, and ringed hand in mine while I traveled into the unknown. He’d jailed me, murdered my ex in cold blood right in front of me, ravished me multiple times, and as of ten minutes ago told me he wanted to kill me.
If my fragile state of mind hadn’t cracked already, disintegration would be right around the corner. For whatever reason, I wasn’t running away from my own demise but rather, embracing it with open arms.
“If you are to be trusted, with what you are saying, why would you do these things? Don’t you own a large company? Isn’t this risky? You shouldn’t tell people you’ll eat their soul; it sounds a bit violent.”
“I own a large company that owns many other companies and smaller businesses. I own the bank that gave you the small loan you needed for your shop as well.”
Oh.
“But why would you risk all that for me? You could lose everything.”
“I would lose it all a million times over for you. It doesn’t matter; it’d be easily reacquired. The laws that govern man don’t apply to me in the same fashion.” Grinning, Ramone pushed his hands into his pockets after I pulled mine away.
He seemed to have the smug, arrogant attitude so many men in his position had. Billionaires always thought they were special. They were, in having more money than nearly anyone else, but they also managed to get away with things no one else could. “Are you telling me you have a really good lawyer?”
Ramone laughed. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. The castle is just over this next hill,” he remarked, tilting his head and reaching for my hand again. “You can’t hide your feelings for me. They’re visible.”
My mouth dropped open slightly. “You should mind your own business,” I said.
“You are my business. Protest however much you want; it doesn’t change a thing.”
We crested the hill and a medieval structure rose in front of us, beautiful and imposing. A bank of impossibly tall mountains stretched to the sky in the distant background and a cobblestone bridge covered a small ravine leading to the front doors, offering a view of what was likely once lush landscaping. Ramone grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop while he slowly examined our surroundings.
“Is there no one here?” I asked. There were no signs of life, and the building appeared nearly uninhabitable, with its crumbling towers, cracked glass, and chunks of facade missing. Huge, rectangular granite blocks littered the pathway along with what may have been the fabric from flags that once waved in the breeze. A frayed and torn red carpet lay across the front steps.
He bit the corner of his lip, turning his head again. “I can’t sense anyone, not even a squirrel.”
Ignoring his odd reply, I asked, “Normally there are people here?”
“Many.”
We started moving again, approaching the splintered wooden doors after crossing the bridge. The damage appeared more from neglect than violence or vandalism. Ramone lifted his hand, flicking his wrist, and then the doors popped open, creaking on rusty hinges.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. It very much seemed as though he’d opened the door without physically touching it. That was exactly what it looked like, as impossible as it should be. There was no way to ask without coming across as crazier than I already felt so I kept my mouth shut and followed him in. He leaned down and removed a long knife he’d had hidden strapped to his calf, gripping it in a tight fist before leading us farther inside.
A large chandelier hung precariously overhead in the large room we entered. Empty brackets dotted the walls, and a wide staircase stood before us. I gazed questioningly at Ramone, and he beckoned me.
“Why are we here?” I asked. It was eerie, the stillness of the castle. I could almost hear the laughter and see the smiles that must’ve once permeated the space with a celebration of life. Visions of fancy gowns, glittering tiaras, and sparkling wine filled my mind, set against a backdrop of beautiful, classical music. It was magical, the space we were in, matching the imagination of my seven-year-old self when my mother used to read storybooks to me and Zoey at bedtime.
I could tell something was still bothering Ramone. He gave it away in the stiffness of his back, the furtive movements of his eyes, and the clenching of his fists. He moved to the staircase, motioning me with his palm up, fingers twitching. He hadn’t answered my question, but I ascended the stone slabs behind him.
Chunks of crystal littered the floor, broken and fallen from what had to have been an impressive archway at one time. Beauty remained in the stone daggers overhead, the light glinting and refracting through the quartz and amethyst. The sight reminded me of icicles dripping from a roof’s edge, threatening to impale one’s skull if they dared to pass underneath.
Ramone waited for me, watching me marvel at the display. “How do you feel here?” he asked. “This is one place I truly feel free, in this world. Can you feel it?”
There was a lightness in my spirit, a loosening in my heart, as if all my worries had melted away, despite my misgivings over what was happening to me. “I do. It feels like I left my body and everything that had been weighing me down. I kinda feel like I could do anything, and it would be okay.” I paused. “My head is messed up a little. This seems too real.”
He glanced at me, satisfied with my answer, and continued walking, tapping a fingernail against one of the crystal shards overhead.
At this point, it felt like I’d been in this world, dreaming, for hours and yet the sun hadn’t moved from its position in the sky. I tried to recall if in any of my dreams, I’d paid attention to the movement of the sun or moon and came up empty. It was clear to me that if I was dreaming, Ramone was as well, and we were somehow dreaming together. It couldn’t be explained any other way.
The only answer that made sense was that a door had opened somewhere in time and space that I'd spent the entirety of my life overlooking and we were co-dreaming right now. He’d said neither of us were asleep, but how could that be true?
Arguing with myself, I contemplated how everything was too animated, too life-like, to be anything but just that. I'd tipped over the edge and no longer possessed a clue as to what to do or what to think.
The fact that I felt almost perfectly comfortable around this man puzzled me. It was as if the other, cruel, version of him had never existed and we’d always known each other. I shook my head, stifling the hysterical laugh that begged to be let loose at the thought.
Oblivious to my ongoing musing, Ramone crossed the room with long strides while I continued to gape at everything around us. The ceiling stretched above, plaster crumbling and wooden beams broken. A small dais was set against the far wall with a door set into the stone, and tumbled chairs, their upholstery shredded, blocked the way.
Ramone stood on the platform waiting for me.
Climbing the short steps, I asked him again, “Why are we here? Just to look around?”
He righted the chairs, setting them in the center, and sat down. “Yes, and I wanted to show you,” he answered, gesturing to the second chair. “This castle belongs, belonged, to the father of someone I destroyed.”
Lowering myself in the seat, I met his gaze before he turned away to stare out at the empty room spread before us. “That same man partook in the killing of my wife, Samara. I wasn’t there to protect her when I should’ve been…rather I was off fighting what turned out to be a useless battle. Both women are gone due to my failing.”
I felt my brow furrow as sadness overtook me, filtering through the air between us to grasp at my heart as if the emotion were a living, breathing entity.
“It was a fight for freedom, but no one is free. Everyone is a slave to something, even their birthright.” Ramone’s hands gripped the edges of the arm rests. I watched his fingers flex, dust and splinters floating to the floor to gather in a small pile by the chair’s legs.
Swallowing, I asked, “What do you mean?” I was fairly sure I understood all too well his point about birthrights, having had my own choices stripped away to a degree the second I gasped my first breath before being permanently removed when my sister died. Slowly, he brought his gaze back to mine, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the rotting wood. “What is it that you want?” he asked me.
“To scream,” I said without hesitation, repeating the same thing I’d told him at the opera. “And to be free, be somewhere unrestricted where I can do what I want.” What I wanted was to let go and not worry about what other people thought, to choose my own friends, my own dates, my own thoughts without the intense judgement and veiled threats. I wanted to go to Saint Simon’s Island for vacation off-season rather than at the prescribed time. I wanted my parents to support my hopes and dreams. I wanted to not feel guilty over Zoey’s death as her sister who should’ve known something was amiss. All the pressure was a weighty burden I’d been living with for far too long.
I’d fantasized about making a scene one too many times, envisioning myself cackling loudly for no reason, or tossing my champagne in a leering senator’s face. What would my parents and peers do if I just started screaming? They’d disown me in hushed voices, gently leading me away while making excuses about an abundance of alcohol, perhaps not enough sleep, or the pressure of an upcoming engagement.
No one would admit the truth. It was all an illusion, the posturing for position. False acts designed to manipulate and impress those who only pretended to care as long as they weren’t dethroned. No one cared about the fundraisers and benefits, it was all for show.
Ramone had removed himself from his seat and was now kneeling in front of me. “I want to make you scream,” he said, lifting the skirt of my dress, “and set you free so you know you’re mine.” I sucked in a breath as he slid his fingers along my calf. His palm moved higher, the smooth skin of his hand traveling up my thigh.
I held my breath as he shoved my skirt up before grabbing my hands, entwining his fingers with my own. His eyes flicked up to mine and I watched as the shade of his irises glowed brighter, deeper. He dipped his head, licked his lips, and fluttered his tongue against the inside of my thigh. Instantly weakening, I sank down in the seat, my shoulders bowing.
Ramone let go of my hands and grabbed my hips roughly yanking me forward. “What are you doing?” I asked him.
I felt his lips against the inside of my leg while he kissed his way closer to my center. “I’m giving you what you need.” His mouth vibrated along my skin. “Me.”
Leaning back, I was barely on the mottled velvet, supported only by his grip on me. He lifted my legs over his shoulders and held me by my waist, the heat of his palms flowing into my flesh. I was suddenly super-conscious of what I knew was my obvious arousal, the slickness feeling cool in the light breeze when he angled his head. I knew what was coming next, but still, I held my breath.
Sensing my discomfort, he squeezed my waist lightly rubbing me with his thumbs. When his tongue traced my dampened seam, the air rushed out of my lungs. I didn’t remember him removing my panties, I could barely remember how I’d even ended up in an abandoned, crumbling castle with this enigmatic man. My world had melted away and transformed into a haven where only the two of us existed. His deft tongue worked my pussy, sending my heart rate higher and higher, my moans echoing in the cavernous space.
Releasing one of my legs he plunged a finger inside me, and I grasped his hair, fisting it, shamelessly grinding my hips against his face. My other hand held onto the edge of the chair as I tried to anchor myself to stop from falling into the abyss.
“Let go, Samantha,” Ramone groaned from between my thighs, nipping at my clit. “Stop hanging on. Submit to me.”
His hands lightly massaged my waist again, before squeezing me. My heart was pounding in my chest, my breaths ragged, and my eyes shut tight. Ramone’s hair tumbled from between my fingers, the strands impossibly glossy and smooth, the light reflecting off them. I reached for him again, this time with both hands, and pushed his head back down. “Don’t stop,” I said.
He growled his approval. “Never.”