Is that what you desire most?
I did not answer. Instead I found a spot in the concrete wall and studied it as if my life depended on it. My attempt to ignore the man did nothing to dampen his jovial mood.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose and my stomach sank. I had the feeling that Gregory would be with me soon.
My visitor glanced to the door and it was all I needed to know.
“I'll name you Biscuit.” I bit back a snicker. “After my first hamster. You have the same colour hair.”
The mask of the jester cracked as Biscuit's face scrunched in confusion. He cocked his head to the side and his eye contact was disconcerting. It felt like he wanted to pull my soul out through my tear ducts.
I shifted uncomfortably as I heard the scraping of the bolt being unlocked.
When I glanced up to the corner, my visitor had gone.
Gregory found me on the floor, curled up like a pet and shivering against the cold floor. My dressing gown was scrunched up around my body like blanket, but my legs were still bare. I could smell Gregory on my skin. I could still feel the internal burn that had resulted from his touch. I could not bear to open my eyes. He dipped down and gripped my body as if I were as light as a feather. He stalked from the room, carrying my limp form with him. His touch felt like a hangover. Recovering from the flu. That lucid sensation before you truly fell asleep.
I fluttered in and out of darkness as I was dropped into a warm bed. I could not bring myself to open my eyes. I was comfortable for the first time since I had been taken. Still covered in dried bodily fluids, my own stink and the blood on my thighs, I held the covers to my face and savoured the smell of the clean cotton.
I could pretend that more pain wasn’t coming. I could pretend that I was safe.
I allowed myself to fall asleep and when I did, I had no dreams.
Chapter 6.
I woke up to the sight of a loaf of sliced white bread, still in its orange packet, sat on the bedside table as if it waited for me.
My stomach lurched in a combination of intense lust and hunger. I gripped the paper wrapped and pulled it apart like a savage animal. Rolling the white bread in my palms, using the warmth of my hands to squish it, I rammed the bread into my mouth so quickly that I did not even taste it.
I was halfway through the loaf when my stomach revolted. I looked everywhere for a door but when I reached it, it was locked.
My only option was a waste paper basket. I promptly emptied my stomach into the metal tin. My body had grown unused to the food.
I sobbed as I choked on the undigested pieces of chewed bread that came up my throat. After a few minutes, panting on the floor, I tried again. Tearing off bite sized pieces of the remaining loaf, chewing the crust with careful deliberation. I swallowed and waited, hoping that more time would allow my stomach to get used to the intrusion.
I winced as I pushed myself off of the floor. My core muscles felt like they had been ripped to shreds from the sexual assaults that Gregory had forced into my body. I shivered and pushed the image from my mind, desperately trying to hold onto the food in my stomach.
He had told me that he didn’t want to attack me. Why would he force himself into my body? Violate me that way?
Because he's a sick fuck.
There was a knock on the door and I bit my tongue to prevent anything from slipping past it. I hadn’t realised how much of an ingrained habit it was to say 'come in,' in response to a door knock.
I didn’t want whoever was on the other side of the door to enter. I wanted them to fuck off.
The smooth chrome doorknob twisted and caught the midmorning light. I clenched my fists and focused all of my energy on keeping down the little food that I had been able to get past my lips.
Gregory filled the doorway, like a foreboding shadow. His dark eyes studied my features before flicking to the waste paper basket. His nostrils flared against the putrid stink of my vomit.
I forced myself to hold his eye contact. I would not back down. He had fucked me against my will, he had taken my body, but he sure as hell was not getting my compliance. I was not a subservient woman. I had always thought that I was. Pushed from pillar to post by my overzealous and religious mother. But when faced with life or death. Sanity and darkness. I was strong. It surprised me but I welcomed it.
Gregory's steps were delicate. At odds with his broad shoulders.
“Have you considered your options?” he asked without inflection.
“Remind me.” I bit back.
“You either comply and I make it enjoyable for you or you fight and I make your last days a misery.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “A misery? Like when you raped me?”
“It was a taste of what the next year of your life will be if you choose to fight me on this.” Gregory said without emotion.
My nose scrunched in disgust. “Even I comply, and choose not to fight back, it's still rape.” I said in a stilted voice. “I don’t want this.”
I wrung my hands in front of me and then quickly halted the nervous gesture when I realised what I was going. The movement caused Gregory's lips to twitch. A flare of anger, like a radiative supernova took over my body. My vision went red around the edges and I could have sworn that I tasted metal on my tongue.
“I don’t want you.” I snarled. “I’ll never want you. And if I ever get the chance, I snap your fucking dick off.”
Gregory reached down and traced the line of my cheekbone with a delicate finger. My back went ramrod straight and I jolted away from him as if his touch had shocked me.
Arousal slammed into me. My clit pulsed in response to his touch, so at odds with the disgust I had felt before. His sickly sweet smell burnt the inside of my nostrils and caused my head to swirl as if I was in an opium den.
“I have shown you what it can be like to hate me. Would you like to see what it would be like to love me?” his lips hovered over mine. His magic was like a gentle breeze on my skin. I didn’t know how I knew it, but it was magic. An overriding force that pushed at the edges of my brain like gripping fingers. It tweaked and teased the right areas. My body felt like an instrument that could be manipulated without even a touch. His breath was cold as he kissed the edge of my mouth.
My mind screamed. My body acted against my will and my tongue darted out to wet my lips.
My nipples were hard.
I was turned on. Beyond need. Beyond rational thought. My body was a flame and only his hands could extinguish my raw pain.
My brain became mush. Pushed to the backseat of the situation.
His strong fingers hovered over my naked shoulders but never touched my skin. I felt like I would combust. My entire frame shook, as an internal war against release and escape battled for supremacy.
A moan slipped through my lips and I wanted to take the sound out of the air and cram is back into my mouth. Embarrassment made my entire body flush red.
“I feed on your lust, Lenora.” Gregory placed a delicate kiss to the hollow of my collarbone. I shivered in response. “The more you enjoy our interactions, the more I enjoy them.”
He licked a slow trail up the side of my neck until he reached my ear. He took the lobe between his teeth, and playfully tugged it between his teeth.
The contrast between his rough and forceful hands and the smooth lover in front of me was cavernous.
I did not want him.
But why was I wet?
Begging.
Aroused.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to calm myself. My thoughts were scattered fluff on the wind. I imagined myself plucking them out of the air and trying to arrange them as I tried to form a coherent thought. It did not work.
His lips sought mine, no longer playful and teasing, but demanding. His tongue traced my lower lip and I found my hands moving without my body's command. My arms wove around his neck, my back arched and my legs spread in invitation.
Tears fell from my cheeks and tainted his kiss with salt. T
hey were the only outlet to my true feelings on the situation. The rest of my body was gone, like a puppet to lust.
His hand slipped between my thighs and I jumped when his skilled thumb teased the area around my clitoris but never hitting play dirt. The promise was enough. Tantalising.
“I wouldn’t be able to do this if you weren't attracted to me.” Gregory said, as he buried his hand into the hair at the nape of my neck.
My eyes rolled back inside of skull, I felt like I was having an out of body experience. Drunk on sex.
I did not register the sound of his fly being undone but I felt myself stretch as he thrust himself inside of me. Instead of gasping at the intrusion, my moan was low and breathy. I clawed at the tops of his arms as he settled inside of me. Rocking his hips into my core.
I wanted more and I hated myself for it.
I mentally catalogued all of the things I knew about the incubus that had taken me from life as I knew it.
He could take my energy by touching me.
He could force me to orgasm without touching me.
He wanted me for an entire year.
He could make the year pleasant for me. Or not.
It was my choice.
I fiddled with my hands, as if cracking my knuckles could take my mind off the hellish situation I had been forced into.
It had never been a choice. The last choice I had been given was when I stood at the taxi rank and spat in the face of common sense. I got into a stranger’s car.
I was a fucking fool.
It was my own damned fault that I was in this situation.
I gripped my hair and tugged at my scalp until I felt the roots of my hair burn. I relished the pain but it was not enough.
I curled my hands into fists and hit the side of my head. I slammed my knuckles against my skull until I felt the warmth of a bruise form. I jammed my fists against any surface I could find. My cheek. Above my eyebrow.
Hitting myself was different to being hit. My body somehow regulated my strength and I flinched away from the onslaught. It was only when I continued pummelling my head that I managed to get somewhere.
The throbbing headache did not help my situation but I welcomed the relief as my breakdown washed over me.
I needed a small amount of control. I couldn’t even go to the toilet or have a glass of water when I wanted one.
I relaxed my body and allowed the comfort of the bedsheets to welcome me. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that I was back in the house-share with Grid, Frankie, Marcy, Gwen and Jaclyn. My random roommates. My friends.
I wondered about my family. About my single mum and her church group and her constant gifting of Groupon vouchers. Even though I never got around to using them.
Who needs sushi from a dubious restaurant in Skegness? (When I lived in London)
I closed my eyes. Exhausted.
I wanted to go home to my mother, my friends, my anime addiction and copious amounts of YA novels. The only question was: how far would I go to live?
I had never entertained the idea of killing someone, but a plan began to form in my mind.
Chapter 7.
I traced the Kanji for ‘Home’ into the palm of my hand with my smallest finger. The repetitive movement calmed my mind on a level that I could not explain. Apart from sleeping, bathing and a few glasses of water, I had little to break up my days. The room I was now in, although more comfortable, offered no mental stimulus.
I thought back to the mobile phone that I had stashed behind the work bench and wondered if Gregory had found it yet. I thought through the list of things I could do if I had the correct tools. I was rusty, but I was fairly certain that I could enhance the mobile phone signal, or at the very least piggyback onto a locked wifi network. If I could find one.
I hadn’t ‘hacked’ in a long time. It might as well have been a thousand years. All because of my stupid actions as a child. Curious at how far I could push, I had invaded some pretty secret systems and drawn the attention of the law.
It was a miracle that they released me with only a warning.
I had been a juvenile criminal for my love of breaking down firewalls for no purpose other than to cause chaos. I had been fourteen.
If you were determined and connected, sometimes you didn’t even need a computer to hack.
I ran through possible ways to get the attention of the authorities. How could I draw attention to my three bed semi-detached prison? Trick heat senses on a drug busting helicopter into think that Gregory was growing a weed garden in his attic?
I had pulled back my curtain once. There was a children’s playground about a stone’s throw from the perfectly maintained lawn of my prison.
When I placed my hand against the glass, I had noticed that it was thicker than usual. Soundproof and too far away to gain anyone’s attention by waving my hands.
I couldn’t fathom how to break the double glazing without Gregory hearing and coming to investigate. That would definitely class as option B. If he saw my escape attempt then my life would get a lot worse if I didn’t manage to drag myself to freedom.
The only way I am likely to live is to seemingly go along with whatever the incubus had planned for my body.
My rational self screamed inside of me. She demanded that I run. Only when I was free of the sickly sweet smell of his body, did I remember that what he has done is rape. I did not want it. I said no. I said no, damn it!
I don’t know if the his toxic pheromones were magic but it smelt like a Care Bear wrapped in melted chocolate. Like a teenager’s perfume it made mu teeth ache with non-existent cavities over its sugary fragrance.
I would never eat a cake again.
No more caramel Frappuccino’s for me. I shivered with longing and looked at the slit in the curtains.
I jumped when I heard the sound of the bedroom door being unlocked and turned to face my kidnapper head on.
Gregory stood in the door frame; his arms crossed over his chest. His stance was wide enough that I wouldn’t have been able to get past without touching his body in some way. I knew he had stood that way on purpose.
“Would you like something to eat?” he asked without emotion.
I nodded stiffly and pushed myself off of the bed. I rubbed the stiff muscles in my shoulder as my kidnapper watched me with detached interest.
He did not move when my staggered movements brought me to the doorway and I was forced to squeeze past his muscular body. When the exposed skin on my arm met with his wrist, it felt like I had been branded.
I clenched my thighs and kept walking. Nursing the expanse of skin where we had touched.
He's a sex demon, I thought through gritted teeth. My mind called up images of my keys lodged in his throat and how he had healed.
The only way that I would get out of my horrible captivity was if I could make him believe that I wanted to be there. I wanted him to let his guard down.
I was a terrible actress. Everyone could tell when I was lying. Harrison always joked about wanting to play strip poker against me because he could always tell when I was bluffing.
I walked in front of the incubus. His gaze made the back of my neck heat in awareness.
The dining room was much of the same. Magnolia plain walls. The only different was a plate of food on the table. No knife and fork.
Gregory was adept had the whole kidnapping thing. I wondered if he had done it before.
I swallowed the sick feeling that curled in my stomach like a writhing snake. I did not want to think about my end.
I still had hope. I could still get out. I told myself.
I sat down at the table as delicately as I was able to. My internal muscles were still sore from the first assault. The only time I hadn’t felt the ache inside of me was when Gregory had used his magic to seduce me.
I clenched my fists on the table top until my knuckles turned white.
My plan solidified further inside of my mind. I wouldn’t just go along with the incubus. I had
to make him believe that I wanted him.
I had to admit, it was not difficult when I was choking on his magic. It had a direct pipeline to my clitoris. Even as my mind warred with the stress of my captivity, I felt the deep insatiable craving to be taken again. Pumped full of his magic. And his cock.
I blushed and my eyes watered. Shame was a burning brand on my eyelids.
The food was simple. Plain chicken breast. Bread. Peas. It was warm, but I was able to pick at the pieces with my fingers and not get burnt.
I chewed slowly so that my shrunken stomach would not protest. Gregory sat at the other end of the table, with his fingers tented in front of him. He watched me as if I was an animal in a zoo.
I tried to smile. It came out as a grimace. I flinched and scolded myself. I had to try harder, damn it.
“Were you born this way?” I asked after I swallowed a mouthful of chicken. It felt tasteless and dry as it clung to the edges of my throat.
Gregory cocked his head to the side and licked his bottom lip. “No.”
I blinked. “Something made you this way?”
Gregory rubbed the back of his head and for the first time since he had taken me, he showed an expression other than lofty disinterest and superiority.
He wore shame like a second skin for only a second before it dispersed so quickly that it could have been a trick of the light.
“I was changed by another daemon. They made me this way. I was human. Once.”
“When?” My throat was dry.
“About fifty years ago.”
He did not look a day over forty.
“Am I the first person you have done this to?” I picked up a piece of bread and broke it apart with my fingers. The crust was stiff, it was almost stale. I took a delicate bite and chewed. Gregory's dark eyes watched me, so intensely that it was hard to not squirm in my seat.
“There are different levels.” He said, and then cleared his throat as if it was difficult to continue speaking. “Some come directly from Hell. Purebloods.”
I held my tongue and took another bite of bread. Looking at the brown roll as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
Bleu Page 4