I slowly shake my head. "I just can't—-"
"No, my dove. What you really mean is you've been made to think you mustn't...but you can." He leans forward, and I stiffen involuntarily even as my heart starts to race. "It's not the world I abducted, but you."
It's like having a devil speak my most shameful thoughts out loud, and I'm tempted to cover my ears so I don't hear anything else.
"It's not the world's fate that hangs in the balance," he whispers, "but yours. It's not the world I'm going to punish...but you."
His thumb touches my lower lip at his last word, and it's all I can do not to cry out.
"So tell me, my dove. Why must you make yourself suffer pointlessly?"
Lust slithers under my skin at what my captor is suggesting. I never imagined he'd say such a thing, but now that he has—-
"I didn't kidnap you just to look at you, and you know that."
I am confused and appalled.
"I kidnapped you to claim every orifice of your body."
Ashamed and enthralled.
He's my kidnapper, for God's sake, but he truly expect me to allow myself to enjoy his touch.
The very idea is outrageously reprehensible. It's unacceptable in every society and impermissible when considering every moral standard we're supposed to uphold.
What he's proposing is utterly indecent, and while I know I mustn't ever say yes—-
His words are also like poison, and the more I try not to think of what he's saying, the more the idea ruthlessly takes root.
I feel his eyes start roaming my body, and it's all I can do not to cry out as I feel my entire being turn into a battlefield under his gaze. I can already feel the sinuously obscene tendrils of his words relentlessly conquering and defiling everything in its path: they rub erotically against the nerves in my brain until my thoughts scatter, and they wrap seductively around my heart until it's creamy, red-hot desire pumping out of its vessels. I squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to stem the rushing tide of its poison, but it's too late: those lust-fueled tendrils have already snaked all the way down to my womanhood—-
Oh God, forgive me.
Mr. Sinister's nostrils flare when he sees me suddenly snap my legs close. Triumph glitters in his gaze, and I nearly whimper because it means he knows his words have successfully infiltrated my senses.
Fight it off, Sara.
Don't give up!
Resist it.
And I do try. I try to keep his poison from tainting the part of me that's already wet and quivering, but the devious tendrils of his words are unstoppable, and they inevitably batter down my painfully flimsy defenses.
His poison floods my core: it burns and takes shape, and just when I think it can't get any worse—-
"Surrender to me, my dove, and I will make your every dream and nightmare come true."
Oh God.
His words plunge inside of me almost like invisible tongues that hungrily lick every membrane I have in that secret place—-
Someone like her, whose life was poles apart from his, should never have come up on his radar.
But because fate had fucked her up—-
The monster had ended up seeing her.
IT HAD BEGUN WITH A search.
A group of young people, the kind that foolishly believed calling themselves a 'crew' would add to their street cred, had decided to steal from him in order to make themselves known.