Chapter 3
Chapter Three
I brought Cybil home and now she’s in my room sleeping. I don’t know how I feel about her being in my space. The thought of breaking her and ruining her has hit me harder than I thought it would. I want to break her. I wanted to watch her crumble at my feet, but looking at her in my bed made me wonder. She isn’t a peaceful sleeper. She’s jumpy and unsettled. Her lashes may flutter in her sleep, but she’s far from getting a good night's sleep.
I sit in the corner of the room, a lit cigarette hanging from my lips as I blow smoke through my nose. Her hair is fanned out across my pillow, her now clean body splayed out under the sheets. I let her shower when we got back. I allowed her to take some time for herself, but that’s about all the time I plan on giving her. She’s to be mine to have and to ruin. And I will ruin her.
A soft knock on the door causes her to startle in her sleep. I blow out another ring of smoke before standing and walking to the door. I pull it open to see my sister with a pile of clothes in her hands.
“What’s that for?” I ask, nodding toward them.
“For her. She needs clothes.”
“She can wear mine.”
“Are you serious?” she asks me. I nod. Dead serious. If she’s to be mine, she needs nothing more than what I have for her. And that includes the fucking clothes she’s going to wear.
“Very.”
“Luc, come on. She needs clothes,” she tells me once more. I shake my head and shut the door in her face, listening to her mouth on the way back to her room. When I turn around, I see she’s looking at me now.
“Do you not sleep?”
“Not much.”
“Why?”
“Do you care?” she asks me. I shrug, wondering why I actually give a shit what she has to say. “When you live with a man like my father, you don’t rest much.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I ask, not wanting to play head games with her.
“I would assume he’s much like your father. With men of his own,” she says. Is she saying his men touched her? They put their hands on her? Not that I care, I shouldn’t care, but something is gnawing at my insides about what she’s saying.
“They hurt you.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Does it matter?”
“It does if you want them dead,” I tell her.
“You’d kill them?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask.
“You don’t even like me,” she adds, which is true. I don’t like her much, but that doesn’t mean I would let men touch her. This arrangement has apparently been in the works for some time, which means when they did whatever they did to her, they knew about me.
“Doesn’t change the facts.”
“Which are?”
“We’re to be married and I won’t have the woman I’m to marry being touched by other men,” I nearly growl at her. She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have.
“Why can’t I have clothes?” she asks, no doubt hearing what Patty had said.
“You don’t need them.”
“Why?”
“You ask a lot of questions, you know that? Is this your way of tormenting me?” I ask her. She shakes her head slowly as she looks at me. “You don’t need them. In this room, you don’t need clothes. If I want to see you, I want to see all of you. If I want to fuck you, I want access to your body at all times. Is that so hard to understand?”
“You’re crazy,” she whispers.
“Am I? I don’t think you’ve begun to see crazy yet.”
“What do you plan on doing to me?” Now, a sick smirk crosses my face as I look at her. I walk closer to her, reach out, and run my fingers along her shoulder.
“I’m going to ruin you, Kitten.”