Chapter 48 Scarlett
Scarlett
I sanded my fingers at my side, fighting the urge to rub my thighs together at the slight pain between them.
Azrael had tentatively promised, in less words, that there would be no more ‘modifications’ until after I had healed fully from the burns.
I was grateful because I didn’t think my body could handle much more burning or slicing.
After keeping me up Sunday night, I was able to sleep for a few hours Monday morning while he was making his delivery only for him to keep me up the whole night last night and allow only a few hours of sleep this morning.
I was exhausted, and I think he saw that which was why he only kept me chained up for a half an hour today. One orgasm for each of us.
I pleaded for more, but he simply told me no, released me, and headed for his office to work.
Since we had gotten in the car, Azrael had been silent, and I understood why. We had no idea what the museum would hold, but knowing Thomas, I knew it wasn’t going to be anything beautiful.
We drove and drove and drove, the sun long since set. It was a long time before we finally pulled up to a curb and put the car in park.
My brows furrowed. Were we here? I didn’t see anyone anywhere, a few people walking on the sidewalk, but nothing more.
Azrael’s door shut and a moment later my door was opening.
I climbed out, the red dress floating around me like waves of the ocean.
It was made of tulle and silk, falling to my knees, one side was longer than the other.
The sleeves fell off the shoulder, but I had on a sort of shawl with a hood.
It tied around my neck, the fabric pulling together to cover my scar and shoulders, falling just below my shoulder blades, the hood large.
I didn’t want to wear it, but this was an event held by people of the church, so I had to keep up my image.
For now, Azrael promised.
“Put this on,” he said before we took a step in either direction.
My eyes fell to his hand where a beautiful silver ring with a heart-shaped red jewel was placed in the center, outlined in beautiful shining diamonds.
My eyes widened, my lips parting. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and it matched the bracelets we both wore!
“Out in the world, people don’t know who you belong to.
That you are not to be touched. This is the only thing they respect.
Not scars or bracelets, but this. You may wear it whenever you’d like, but you have to wear it when we go on errands like this so that the civilians know that you belong to someone. ”
Of course, I would wear it. I didn’t want anyone else touching me either, but I would have worn it anyway. I think I might have worn it even if he asked me not to.
I reached for it only for him to pull it back.
“Left hand.”
My brows furrowed. I lowered my right hand and held out my left, my heart skipping when he gently grabbed my hand and slid the ring onto my ring finger.
The jewels were so big!
“Perfect fit for the Queen of Hearts, hmm?”
I held out my hand, admiring it, feeling the smile stretch across my face. I nodded, finding his eyes. “Thank you so much,” I told him.
But his eyes were on my lips, watching them carefully.
A moment passed before he turned his attention to the city. He was incredibly still, his eyes watchful. “This way.”
Without hesitation, I pulled my hood on, joined his side, and we headed down the city sidewalk.
It was the first time I had ever walked down the street before.
People, not ones from the church, just normal people, walked by without even looking at us.
Nobody cared about my hair color or that I was looking up or that I was wearing a dress that showed my legs out in public.
It was incredible. Azrael and I were nearly invisible.
We could do anything. Anything at all and nobody would care.
The thought made me stand a little taller, my hands brushing my skirt with every step, my hair drifting out from my hood and down over my chest. Out here in the sea of people, I could just be. I could exist without being seen. I was invisible.
We walked down the sidewalk, across a street, and down another city block before we found the entrance. There was a thick rope made of velvet sitting in front of a man who stood in front of the door.
I met his eyes without blinking, fighting the urge to look away. That urge was weaker now, but still there. Part of me wondered if it would ever go away.
“Azrael Thorin,” Azrael said in way of greeting. “Judge Ruiz invited me.”
The man watched me, his eyes narrowing.
I angled my head. Was he trying to see inside of me? There was no tar to speak of inside of me, but him…
I felt a smile touch my lips and grow and grow. My finger brushed by Azrael’s. Fascinating. I could see the tar dripping around his irises. Thick and black.
His brows furrowed, the muscles in his face twitching until he finally looked away with a huff, irritation filling his features. “Fine.”
My smile fell for pursed lips as he unclipped the rope and stepped to the side.
Azrael gestured for me to go forward.
I stepped to the other side of the rope only for him to pass me and reach for the door. I found his eyes the moment I passed him.
He rejoined me just inside. “He saw the power inside of you and cowered,” he hummed softly.
“Most don’t like it when they don’t know why you’re smiling.
It makes them uncomfortable, you knowing something about them they didn’t want you to see.
It takes them off-guard, and they no longer know how to react. ”
Then I shall do it more often, just as he does. I’d rather them be uncomfortable when looking at me than covet what they would never have. If they were uncomfortable, they would never think they had a right to touch me.
I turned to the room we had stepped into, the hall short with only a single door at the end.
The lights were dim, lit with blue rather than yellow or white.
The walls were stone, and, after a moment of studying, I realized that this wasn’t a place to linger.
They wanted people to enter and immediately head for the door.
It wasn’t an exit either, at least not a good one.
The hall was too narrow to pass by each other.
“Come, little sinner,” Azrael hummed, “we mustn’t be late for this date. Remember,” he went on as we walked down the hall, “the people of this church have never been your true subjects. Whatever we see, it is only fuel for the fire burning under your skin.”
I was learning to like that burning. It felt good when it grew. Powerful. Comforting in this world of lenience.
Azrael opened the door at the end of the hall and soft music and the smell of copper laced in lavender accosted me.
I felt my expression turn to stone as I stepped into the room, taking in everything all at once.
The room was broken up into smaller sections lined in large panels that were completely made of white light while the rest of the room was bathed in blue.
There were people everywhere. Couples, singles.
I didn’t recognize anyone’s shoes, and I couldn’t tell who was a Favorite and who wasn’t. Everyone looked the same.
I breathed in slowly. Why was I smelling so much blood?
“It’s under the music,” Azrael whispered, guiding me to one side of the door.
Under the music?
I focused on the sounds, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. It gave me a headache, the dark blue lights with splashes of bright white. Everywhere those bright white panels were, the people congregated, so I knew there was something here, we just couldn’t see anything yet.
I sifted through the talking of the people, the soft music, the shuffling feet before I finally heard it.
The moaning.
My brows furrowed for half a second before my expression smoothed out again. Moaning and blood. This was—
“A museum of flesh,” Azrael purred before stepping towards the closest panel, following the light flow of the crowd.
My eyes were trained on the bright light as we walked. Closer and closer it came, my heart thudding.
A museum of flesh? What has Thomas done?
We stepped around the edge of the panel, and I felt the world sway under me when I saw the truth of what Azrael had said.
There was a man hanging from the ceiling by barbed wire that wrapped around his wrists, his left knee, and his right ankle, holding him feet above the ground much like a puppeteer would hold his puppet.
He was stripped completely naked except for the two metal clamps tightened around his nipples, and some sort of contraption wrapped around his cock. Blood dripped from all three clamps and everywhere that barbed wire dug in.
He was covered in sweat, his fingers blue, a small pool of blood under him, telling me that he had been there a while already.
We slowed to a stop, finding a sign posted just to the right of us. “Gluttony”.
Gluttony? Why? I could see his bones. He couldn’t have been older than 22 and I could see his bones. He was so thin. Smaller than me.
I heard someone click their tongue, my eyes automatically finding the sound, a habit I had yet to break.
A woman stood on the other side of Azrael, older, graying hair, her wrinkles covered in too much makeup, her lips painted in a too bright color of red.
“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” she said, admiring the male.
“It can be used as punishment or pleasure. Do you see it?” she asked, glancing towards Azrael, not seeing me at all.
As if I were just completely invisible. “The contraption around his penis is laced in thorns on the inside. It can be placed on for those who enjoy pain, just tight enough to cause pain when the penis throbs or…” A smile stretched across her thin lips as she turned back to the man.
“It can be tightened down all the way, the thorns pushing into the flaccid penis, where any movement, no matter how slight, pains them.” She angled her head. “I wonder what he did to deserve this.”