Chapter 19

Itook a moment to adjust myself. The room the shadow man took me was everything like how you would imagine it to be, becoming more obvious it was his room.

Every inch of the room was either black or dark velvety blood red, his true style. It was gloomy, but also not, if that were even possible. I gulped, hard. The ceilings were made entirely of mirror. Like the club, PUP. Princess's of Pentagram. Except for one spot in the middle of the room there was an open space of no less than 6 by six feet.

The barrier of the space was framed by a metal structure in the ceiling, and laced with beautifully crafted pentagram diagrams and yellow micro-LED lights twinkling through them. The place was fucking huge.

"Woah." I whispered in awe, barely paying attention to the fact I had spoken my disbelief aloud.

Crap.I spun my neck behind me to look at the shadow man. He was leaning on the frame of the elevator door with his arms crossed. I could tell that he had a self-satisfied smirk across his face, not that I could see it. And I assumed that it wasn't just because I spoke aloud, but because I had walked halfway into his room out of arms reach without realizing, with a smile on my face, and he was just standing there watching in enjoyment. Double crap. But he didn't growl or wrap his hand around my throat like it was a necklace, he just stood there. I took another step in, away from the shadow man, and my eyes found the bed. Holy ever-loving fuck.

King size, black, four post, black silk sheets. Can this man get any more original? Black, black, black. Dark, dark, dark. Spooky, spooky, spooky. Okay I got it. My eyes widened, and a gasp fell from my mouth when I realised. There was a fucking cage next to it. I twisted around quickly again to give the fucker a side-eye, and I jumped out of my skin. He was right behind me.

"Shit." I exclaimed. But again, he just stood there, all enigmatic and stoic. A huff escaped his nose. Leaving everything to the imagination. I rolled my eyes with a frown. The little amulet he had around his neck was no longer illuminated, it looked empty. Why would he carry an empty glass amulet, this man just gets weirder and weirder. But he didn't seem at all concerned I was glaring at him and his weirdness.

Beautiful, but weird. I shouldn't admire someone I didn't know the name of, or the look of. I shouldn't admire murderers, period. But I did, and I was getting sick to death of admitting it to myself. Denial was a fucking bitch. And so was the fucking cage I knew he was going to put me in. Like a fucking pet.

I ignored it and glanced elsewhere. The floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the entire room was draped with black velvet curtains. Outside, the view was electric, those fucking pine trees. As much as I hated the haunting darkness that I knew lurked in there, it was beautiful. Granted, the haunting darkness was in the same room as me, the freak. It was the exact same view from the room that I was typically held hostage in, only another floor higher.

My feet kissed the warm black tiles that were elegantly coated with reds, golds, and white marbled swirls, and the furniture fittings were finished with polished gold touches. It was still dark out, but something caught my eye out the window. A few cars disappeared into the horizon, I don't know why but the thought of those guests from the ball leaving brewed unease in my belly. Would this night ever end?

Before I knew it, I was being thrown into the cage like a naughty puppy that had just peed on the carpet. He locked me in with a padlock in one swift movement. Fuck. It was cramped in here, half my size, leaving me no choice but to tuck my knees up into my chest. The little green lace from my underwear peeked from the tears of the dress. I didn't know what happened, but the mood seemed to have shifted.

The revulsion he had for me was back in full force, and it made the hairs on my arms stick up. The shadow man"s moods were unpredictable. I hadn't done a damn fucking thing wrong and yet he was rolling in loathe, fuming with mildly knocked-back rage. Why he gave off the impression he hated me so much I'd never know. He didn't speak.

His breath sped up, and he clenched his fists. I gulped hard as his stare burnt into my body, like my skin was about to ignite. I jolted. He threw the back of his hand against the cage, and the piercing sound of metal droned into my ear. I sobbed, freeing all the tears from my eyes. He sputtered a sadistic growl with an almost angered weep and stormed off, the elevator door closing behind him, and the lights turning off in his absence.

I rolled myself into a cocoon, imagining that I was home. Safe in the comfort of my own bed, with Tilly and my favorite pillow that smelled of my shampoo, and no fucking shadow man.

I lulled myself into an uneasy sleep and let the night consume me.

I fluttered my eyes open to the sunlight beaming warm through the window the other side of his room. Not wanting to wake up and face the day, I held myself for another moment, stewing in my numb body. My spinal cord felt like it had rearranged in five different places, and my body ached with pins and needles.

Curling into a ball in a tiny cage half your size wasn't all that comfortable, and I wished the fucker had dragged me back to my room instead of here. Even the cold concrete in the basement was more tolerable than here. I huffed and wondered if whether he had watched me sleep like he used to. The sick bastard. It made no sense, it really didn't. This man was a cold-hearted killer, and yet he fucking cried when he played the piano.

And took off my fucking shoe. Maybe he had a heart, buried deep down in there somewhere… pfft, yeah right. Only a sick twisted one. My stomach churned, and I grimaced. I was starving. Granted, I ate three times my body weight last night, but the food was too good to not eat. And who when I would eat again?

I huffed again, and an involuntary giggle fell out of my mouth. You know when you're that fucked up, you laugh? But it isn't funny? Yeah, I've gone that kind of mad. I cleared my throat and rolled over trying to limber up some of my aches and pains. Sure enough, there he was. Sitting on the armchair next to the bed with both legs pried apart, slouched, and staring at me.

A smirk burnt against his mask, I couldn't see it. I didn't need to, I could tell it was there, I could feel it. He had a fresh coat of paint on his skin, and a clean cape that draped off his body like a waterfall.

You would think I would of have at least gasped at the sight of him, as the freak had been staring at me sleeping for god only knew how long. But I had nothing to offer him. Well, other than the puddle of saliva that had pooled under my tongue that I was dying to spit at him, I didn't. But I wanted to. Very unlike me, but I guess he was bringing all that out of me wasn't he? When you push someone into the corner far enough they"ll bite back.

I frowned at myself. At least, given all I had been through, I still had my virginity to hold onto. Mine. Not theirs. Not his. Mine. My mind wondered again. Part of me felt sad about that, where I shouldn't feel sadness. What if I died without having experienced sex? That should be the last thing on my mind, but the last few days had been a ticking time bomb of this fucking built-up sexual tension.

Gah! The tears in his jeans teased me with the pale tones of his unpainted skin, and I shuddered. His fingers drummed along the arms of the chair like he was waiting for something, maybe annoyed I was staring, again.

"What do you want?" I snapped impatiently. I was getting sick of the burning sensation of his stalkerish stares. Frustration and anger took charge of my normally squeaky but kind voice, but the fucker had me thrown in a cage without access to a toilet. I was filthy and in desperate need of a pee, given the amount of alcohol I had consumed.

Snappy was all this ass hole deserved. He adjusted slightly in the chair, merely blowing a hint of a laugh through his nose. Which only aggravated me more. I trailed off, I dare say my period was only around the bend. I was in a foul mood, and I was damn fucking pissed that this fucker couldn't, wouldn't speak.

Gah!It was so infuriating. He was so infuriating. "What? Cat got your tongue?" I offered another smart remark, I didn"t care if he wanted to kill me there and then or laugh. I'd at least be put out of my misery of being in this hell hole once and for all. But to my surprise, he did nothing. Not even daggers through the beady little eye holes hit me. Or a kick to the cage, a spit. Nothing. He just sat there, staring. Comfortable.

Too comfortable, too quiet. His calm annoyed me, I had to look away before I did something that I regretted. I scoffed out loud and rolled back over, curling myself back into a ball. Out of sight, out of mind, if that was possible with him. I tucked my knee up further into my belly, trying to lull my bubbling stomach, I was famished.

Solitude comforted me for another hour or two at a guess, until the maid showed up with a ridiculous selection of food. She placed it on the bed and glared at me before scurrying off again, the elevator silently closing behind her. The scent of eggs, bacon, pastries, and coffee intoxicated my every thought, to the point where I was choking on my own saliva. I hoped the prick would let me eat, but it looked like there was only enough food for one.

I rolled over to peer at the food, trying my best not to look desperate. He mockingly held his arm out, gesturing toward the food like an invitation to come eat. Prick. Anger came racing into my veins like a welcome gift pack. I gritted my teeth but my heart sank, sadness quickly taking charge. The sadistic asshole chuckled, rolling his head back at my deprivation. This was his game.

I spun over again, arguing with myself and the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes. I was going to cry for him like he wanted, damn it. I fucking hated it. I didn"t want him to keep seeing me weak, knowing that it was what he craved. It wasn't long before the shadow man stood at my cage. The creep sure did have a way of moving around without so much as making a single sound. I didn't look, I kept myself rolled in a ball like a cold kitten.

My brow turned at the sound of a soft crunch. Tuffs of pastry fell past my eyes and onto the floor of my cage, falling from between the bars up high. The fucker was holding a croissant above me, rubbing it between his fingers. His torment made my lips purse together so hard they hurt, creating a white ring around them. He repeated the gesture again, until the croissant was gone.

I flinched from the cold hit of freshly squeezed orange juice as he poured it over me, the antagonising mother fucker. The sticky, sugary residue clung to my skin like candle wax. I tried to hold myself together. But the floodgates finally opened, and a sob wrenched free.

I felt like I was being bullied in high school all over again. It was humiliating. Every emotion hit me- anger, fear, dread, lust, hunger, regret, sadness, pain, humiliation, and numbness. It was hard to channel them all out. But my bladder was screaming at me louder than my stomach was. As much as I didn't want to, I needed to beg. Otherwise, I was going to pee here, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. I think the fuck not. No. I wouldn"t let him humiliate me like that. I pulled back my tears to the best of my ability and turned to look at him. The shadow man stood tall above me, a little too proudly. It made me furious, but I choked it down, anger wasn't going to get me to a toilet.

"I need to use the bathroom." I pleaded, but I received nothing in return. He just stood there and crossed his arms. He growled, tapping his fingers on his forearm. I sighed, in defeat.

"Please." I pushed as much fake sincerity into the word as I could muster. He squatted and teased the key between his insanely long fingers hanging from the chain around his neck. Dread unfurled within me. Was he really going to let me pee myself in here? His breath fell heavily against the metal of his mask. He was hesitating. I drew in an involuntary inhale through my nose, and his scent drowned me. He didn't smell like his normal self.

The hints of blood and pine were gone. The musky earthy tone of his cologne marrying the hints of the body paint. He smelt… nice. Normal. I'd never seen a man with jewelry before, and he had the rings on his fingers back on. It was strange seeing him in broad daylight. He had two silver rings on his right hand, one round topped one with markings I couldn't make out, written in runes or tongue.

I frowned at the rectangle one, engraved with the word ‘HUNTED' and a reflection under it saying ‘HUNTER'. His other hand had two very similar rings, but there were more chunky. They were bespoke, adding to his mysterious apparel. The freak. He was more human looking and less Grim Reaper during the day. Less terrifying. Up this close without either of us moving, I could see his amulet, the one that glowed at night. It was empty, nothing other than a spec of stone. Like a crystal. And because I was always having a brain to mouth malfunction, I spoke.

"What does the amulet mean?" My throat narrowed from my impulsion of asking about him, I didn"t need to know… did I? He squirmed, making the hairs stick up on my arm. He didn't offer a response. Of course he didn't. What was I expecting? He never spoke.

He took a small step back to let me out. I didn't hesitate, the tugging of my bladder won me over. I winced, and a hollow puff fell from my lips. Ouch. My feet tingled. It took a good moment for my body to let me stand upright after being cramped for so long. "Th-Thanks." I stuttered, walking backward towards the bathroom door, keeping my eyes on him. Each time I stood a step, he took a step closer.

Oh, hell no. If he thinks he is going to come into the bathroom with me while I take care of my business, that is just adding to a whole new level of freaky. I frowned and gestured my hands up, so he didn't follow me.

By the time I reached the toilet, he was already leaning against the bathroom door-frame, with his arms crossed and his head tilted. His breath remained calm. I rolled my eyes, but the dull ache at my bladder was stronger than the need to punch him in the face. If I could even get to it, the metal on his mask was thick, I"d never hurt him no matter how hard I tried. I shimmied my dress in a way that the slit in it worked in my favor. Pulling the length of it into my thigh and tugging my panties down without my private area on display, I took care of my business.

An instant hit of relief. No thanks to all that champagne I had. My mind wandered as the endless flow of pee sprouted from between my thighs. Shit. My panties had blood on them. My period was here. Fuck. My heart pounded, and my cheeks flushed. I wanted to ask him about sanitary items, but I knew I wasn't going to get anything from the fucker. I swallowed hard and shoved the thought aside. Luckily my periods were light anyway.

I washed my hands, and the refreshing water soothed me slightly. I wanted a shower so bad, to stand in there for hours like I had done in my room the next level down, let the sins of thinking of those men in illicit ways drain away. I wanted to ask him a question, I hesitated, and I knew I'd regret it. It would be like annoying a guard out the front of the queen"s castle, but I had a habit of never knowing when to shut my mouth. "What was the song you were playing the other night? I didn't recognise it".

He knew what I was talking about straight away, for his Adam"s apple bobbed, and his body stilled. I had caught him crying, and without his mask, not that I saw what he looked like. Wait. Did he just… squirm? Was he shy? Embarrassed? I snickered. Bingo. A weakness. The mood shifted again, with loathing rearing its ugly head. His chest rapidly began to rise and fall, and it was a warning. In a don't-test-me way. But I didn't care. I wanted the fucker to speak, now that I knew where his big red button was, I figured I"d push it to see where it got me. Because, after all… I was still alive.

"I saw you cry…" But he was quick to cut me off. His hand wrapped around my neck faster than the speed of light. That deep primal growl purred in his chest, the vibration shooting up his arm and against my jugular. I probably should have held my tongue, as I"d clearly hit a nerve. But I wanted to see what would happen, and test my boundaries. He was going to kill me anyway, so they said. The shadow man"s grip was tight, but I could still breathe.

I could feel his heartbeat pumping through his veins against my throat. He wanted me scared, and I was. But I couldn't shake the feeling that he was reserved, perplexed.

"Do it." I hissed. "You have the chance to kill me, so do it." I grumbled with whatever breath I had. I didn't pry at his hands for my release, I held my stare heavy into the mesh of his mask"s eye holes, hoping that somehow I was staring into his own. Part of me wanted to believe that his face was as ugly as his soul, but the tug in the other part of my brain said that wasn't entirely true. Because if he was anything like his brothers, there was no doubt he was absolutely fucking gorgeous. Maybe he thought he was ugly, maybe all the scars on his body traveled to his face.

I knew he could have put more strength into his grip, but he didn't. I was done playing his games. If he wanted me dead, then the ass hole needed to get it over with. But his breath shallowed and he let his grip loosen completely. He gulped hard. I didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me rub the ache that he left around my throat. A moment passed before he grabbed my arm, pulling me to his side before throwing me back into the cage.

"You can't keep me in here forever, you know? I'm not a fucking pet." I muttered, unable to choke down my disappointment and heartache. I knew I wouldn't get a reply, the man doesn't offer much else than a grumble, growl, or huff. The fact that he couldn't strangle me to death was my proof that something deep down, was telling him not to. There was more to him than meets the eye.

I needed to work out what somehow. He locked my cage, hovering at the gate with his fingers coiled around the bars, looking straight into my soul. Our breaths synced, and shattered together. I squirmed from the tension between us.

"You are my pet. My little swallowtail."