Chapter 8
8
EVELINA
T he storage closet was damp and dark, and the faint smell of cedar mingling with the musty air filled my nose and made me scrunch it up before I lightly coughed.
I stood there for a second, just staring at the shelves that held folded piles of clothes and a few bottles of cleaning products. My mind and body were at war at that moment, as I thought about just running—testing to see if he’d follow through with his threats. And the other part of me pointed out that he hadn’t hurt me yet, and maybe if I played along, he’d show me mercy.
In the end, I focused on searching for something clean enough for Kane. My heartbeat drummed erratically, louder in the confined space, as though it was trying to remind me that I was still alive.
Once I returned, I saw he was already making the fire. I didn't know if I’d been in the closet, contemplating my life for that long, or if Kane had moved at the speed of light to retrieve the wood from outside and ready the fireplace.
When it was lit, he stalked toward me, and I swallowed thickly before handing him the items. Without a word, he headed to the bathroom but stopped on the stairs and looked back at me, a silent warning on his face. I knew what it was saying… or threatening.
“Run, little girl. Let me chase you.”
“I’ll be in the living room.” My words might have been too soft for him to hear, but whatever he saw on my face satisfied him, and he continued his way up to the bathroom.
My mind was spinning as I tried to figure out what the hell was happening to me and why Kane intrigued me so much.
I had to be just as fucked up as he was.
Despite having a shitty upbringing, one that could make anyone feel fragile and beaten down, I managed to survive. All those things that happened to me in the past had shaped me into who I was today. It all sharpened me, blackened my heart and soul, and I knew I was now stronger than ever before.
And then there was a hunger inside me that grew more and more insatiable with every moment I spent under Kane’s calculating gaze and his undeniable, brutal dominance. He radiated power and made me feel both terrified and... something else that coiled in my belly and spread throughout my entire body.
He turned me on in a sick way.
But it wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t because of him. This twisted darkness I felt—this deranged and almost obsessive need to experience something unhinged—had been there long before Kane burst into my life and turned my world upside down in the blink of an eye.
I was born with it—I concluded long ago. But living alone and keeping myself isolate from everyone else let me bury it deep down, where even I could hide from it. My sickness had been carefully disguised behind my calm facial expression when I watched my father’s face contort in agony after finishing his last meal.
Once a week, I thought about that night, the night I watched while his body seized as the poison did its work. And then I just sat there and stared at my father’s still figure, slumped over the table with blood and other bodily fluids seeping out of his mouth, nose, and ears.
After that was when I told myself I had to be… normal. I washed the symbolic blood from my hands and buried the pieces of my dark self so far down it couldn’t breathe.
But it had been resuscitated by Kane’s arrival.
Pushing thoughts of my past away, I heard him descend the stairs. He came into the room, and I held my breath. My heart instantly picked up its pace, my nipples hardened, and I felt a tingle right between my thighs.
Through the thin, white T-shirt, I could see his chest. His skin must have been damp when he put the shirt on, because I could clearly make out the scars littering the wide expanse, ones that probably told stories I would not want to hear.
His dark eyes were locked on me, but neither of us spoke. But fuck was I turned on.
I’m a sick bitch.
Even so, instinct had me taking several steps back when he came closer.
“I’ll get to cooking,” I mumbled and quickly turned to leave him standing in the living room. But as I moved into the kitchen, I felt his gaze heavy and predatory on me. It also left a trail of heat gliding across my skin, teasing my nipples and caressing my pussy, and I just knew he was only a step behind me.
Fuck. I’m a horny bitch too.
We were both silent as I opened the fridge and pulled out a package of steak, setting it on the counter before reaching into the cupboard for a can of mushroom soup.
I hesitated when I saw the little glass jar tucked away far in the back. I glanced over my shoulder to see Kane staring at a picture on the wall. It had been here when I bought the house, and I never took it down.
With his focus occupied, I pulled the tiny jar out, holding it delicately, as though it might shatter under my touch. Inside were dried leaves and petals of hemlock. They had shrank, darkened, and were harmless looking.
But I knew better. I’d used it before to kill my father.
I stared at the jar, my thoughts spiraling, until I felt the weight of his presence right behind me. My breath caught as I told myself to act normal and calm. I set the jar on the counter and turned.
Kane stood just a few feet from me. His eyes were locked on mine now, and his expression was a mixture of something dark, mysterious, and wholly dangerous.
The air between us crackled, charged with something I couldn’t name nor recognize. My mouth went dry, and for a moment, I was unable to break my gaze from his.
His presence was suffocating.
His energy was consuming.
I wanted to just get undressed and submit, to offer myself up to this man to do whatever he wanted to me.
God… I’m crazy.
I should have vehemently wanted to tell him to go to hell, to remind him I wasn’t his prisoner to be intimate with, but we both knew that wasn’t true. Not really.
The storm was still raging outside, the wind howling like a feral beast. Of course, escape lingered in my mind, but even if I ran, the woods were a death sentence. I knew that. The town was miles away, and Kane was here. In front of me.
“I’ll start dinner. Give me like half an hour to cook everything.” I kept my voice low and even.
He was silent for a second but then nodded slowly. “I’ll check on the fire and make sure it keeps all night.” His gaze flickered behind me to the counter, and a shadow crossed over his gaze. “What’s that?”
I looked over my shoulder, acting confused at first, even though I knew what he was referring to. “This?” I picked up the little glass jar. He didn’t respond. “It’s just spices for dinner. Do you like steak with mushroom gravy?”
He was silent for a moment, his eyes locked on the jar before looking at my face, studying me. “Whatever you cook, I’ll appreciate it,” he said, his tone holding this strange, dark gratitude that made my stomach twist.
And then he turned and left to take care of the fire, and I stood frozen, staring down at the dried hemlock. I could picture him eating the meal I’d make, his sharp jaw tightening as the poison worked its way through him. I could imagine him slouching forward before falling to the ground.
I could imagine poisoning him… just like I had my father.
But that hadn’t just been about self-preservation—it had also been about vengeance and justice.
And as I stood there, my fingers tightening around the jar, I couldn’t shake the gnawing, treacherous thoughts that this didn’t feel right. This didn’t feel like something I had to do to be safe, and I didn’t know why I felt so strongly about it.
For some reason, I really didn’t want to see Kane broken and lifeless.
I closed my eyes and listened to him in the living room. I didn’t know what was happening to me, but it traveled through my very marrow, and I wanted it to grow until it consumed all of me.
I craved the monster in my home.
I swallowed hard as I put the jar back in the cupboard and grabbed a different one, this one containing dried Salvia divinorum . I didn't want to kill him, but I needed to change the power dynamic.
With that thought—and plan—in mind, I started my task of making dinner.