ππππΒ
The bedroom door opened, but I felt him before I turned. With my eyes closed, I could feel his presence filling the room, how he owned everything in it β including me.
I heard the door shut, but I knew he hadn't left. Slowly, I turned, my heart beating a staccato rhythm against my ribs. When I looked up and into his eyes, I knew why he was there. It was hunger, a craving for sin that brought him here⦠to me.
My eyes caught sight of blood on his shirt, and I held my breath.
"Are you sure I'm not the devil you should fear?" The leather of the whip in his hand dropped while he held onto the end, his stance that of a ruthless king. But not just any king. My king.
