That Sik Luv

Briony

I’m disgusted.

Repulsed.

This man just desecrated everything I believe in. Everything I stand for. He spit in the face of my religion, doing what he did in there, wiping his release across my forehead in some sort of sick display of dominance.

I’m heated, angry, and on edge as I wipe my face clean of him in the bathroom down the hall. I hold my head in my hands, leaning forward as the heat of the running water causes light steam to form, billowing up before me.

What have I done?

I fell into his trap again, completing whatever mission he had me on. The key, the room, the envelope, the disruption of my innocence…

Never in all of my life have I ever been treated so disrespectfully. And of course, it would be the man who’s not only seemingly obsessed with destroying my purity, but entirely set on protecting me by way of riddles and hidden bodies.

My emotions, my hormones, my entire world, have shifted on their axis because of him. I couldn’t help but be fascinated by him in there, or any room for that matter. Whether or not I like it, I’m drawn to him in ways unknown to me, like something deep inside the dark corners of my core speaks to the darkness inside of him.

He was bigger than I’d imagined a man to be. The sight of him enraptured me. Stiff, thick and velvety, roped with pulsing veins, and a gold ringed piercing through the tip. I didn’t even know it was a thing for men to pierce their sex organs.

It’s entirely strange and completely confusing to me. No one can even see it, so what’s the purpose?

I’m reminded of his rough grasp on the belt around my neck and his hold on my hair, his raspy groans that left his throat as he continuously ‘fucked’ mine, and that dangerous look in his eyes when he told me to look at him while he was inside my mouth. The familiar warmth is back between my thighs, the dampness ever-present. This sensation, the feeling of being bound so tight…it just won’t end.

I feel dirty. I feel used. I feel…unsatisfied, longing for more. Just as he wanted.

It frustrates me how I could even enjoy being treated so horrifically. But the truth of the matter is, my body wanted it and my brain couldn’t catch up as to why.

After wiping the smeared makeup from under my eyes, I grab some tissue to wipe my lips. Pausing, I stare at my reflection, remembering his words.

Do it, Briony. Or see what happens if you don’t.

Would he hurt Saint if I didn’t follow through with this sick and twisted plan?

How would he know?

I go to wipe my lips anyway, not caring about his rules, when a knock on the door practically cripples me with fear.

“Briony? Are you in there?”

It’s Saint.

Fixing myself quickly, I clear my throat and open the door.

He stands there casually, one arm braced against the door frame, looking handsome as ever in his suit. His mask is up on top of his golden shaved hair, his easygoing expression shrinking into a frown at the sight of me.

“What’s wrong?” He stiffens immediately upon seeing my red, tear-stained eyes. “What’s happened?”

I shake my head, letting out a deep breath. “Nothing, just…I think I need to go.”

His brows raise in worry.

“Briony, what happened? Did someone say something? Are you hurt? I’m entirely confused.”

He grabs my hand, pulling me closer to him as I swallow, looking into the ornate, red carpet of the hallway floor, eyes brimming with tears, but for a new reason. Red, passionate anger.

“C’mon,” he says softly, draping a protective arm over me. “Let’s get you out of here.”

I’m glad he doesn’t ask for more. I know it seems crazy; me crying up here in the bathroom, but it’s so much more than just tears at a party.

He guides me out of the bathroom, assisting me down the stairs where the costume ball has continued on without me. Holding my mask over my face again, I focus on leaving without needing to converse with anyone else.

Fake conversations with people who pretend to have an actual interest in who I am are really getting to me. I’d hoped once I’d proven myself as a reputable member of this church, I’d gain some sort of respect. But so far, nothing’s changed. I’m still here as Saint’s date, and the lies and despicable secrets of the bishop are seemingly disregarded or unknown to everyone but me.

Saint gets pulled into a conversation as we’re leaving, and as hard as he is trying to break free to leave with me, the man he’s talking to keeps on running his mouth. Saint’s too nice of a guy to elder members of the community to ever just part from him, unfortunately, so I walk away towards the entryway by myself, desperately needing air.

As I’m reaching the sitting room near the door, I pause in place when I see it, feeling the constricting feeling in my chest again.

Near the door, there’s a trash can filled mostly with napkins from the party guests as they leave. But it’s the bud on top that catches my eye. The blood-red bud with the long green stem, just waiting to bloom, but cut too soon by the sharp blade of a man with a message.

Stalking over to it, I snatch the stem, picking it up as my sore jaw tightens.

My head turns and I know he’s watching me right now. I feel eyes on the back of my neck from somewhere unknown. Frustration pumps through my veins in hot waves, needing an outlet.

I grip the stem tightly in my palm. The thorns, like Aero, pierce through my flesh, just how he unfortunately has. I embrace the pain as I walk a few steps forward towards the crackling fireplace in the sitting room.

Bending down near the massive stone opening, I hold the bud over the flames, watching as it slowly burns black before finally catching fire. I stand with it, watching as it deteriorates before me, the flames shooting up, surely lighting my eyes. I turn, facing the open room behind me where people are mingling and talking with useless words. No one notices me, even with a burning bud of rose in my hand.

I toss the stem into the flames behind me, glaring out into nothing. I can’t see him. But I know he’s there. Lingering in the shadows as he does.

Saint approaches me with his hands held out in a shrug.

“Sorry about that,” he apologizes. “He wouldn’t stop talking about the new addendum my father introduced.” He takes another step towards me. “C’mon on, let’s head out.”

“What addendum?” I ask, taking a step forward towards him, almost closing the space between us.

I reach up slowly, grabbing the collar of his white shirt gently, popping it up where it had bent. Keeping hold of the shirt, my hands slide down to where the edge of his suit jacket is, pulling him towards me, until our chests touch.

Let him see me.

Saint stills at the contact, before letting out a breath, slowly wrapping an arm around my lower back. His hand ghosts slightly, fingers spanning across the very curve that crosses into unchartered territory. Clearly, the contact was surprising to him, but he’s not pulling away. His full lips part ever so slightly as his other hand comes up to touch the side of my face. I lean into it, closing my eyes.

“It’s nothing…just politics. You know how those men are.” He shakes his head while rolling his eyes.

His use of the words “those men” when referring to his own father surprises me.

“Let’s go,” I whisper, licking my lips and suddenly tasting Aero.

I’m frustrated at the heated spark that runs through me, finding its way between my legs, remembering his taste. His hold. His power over me.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say, brushing the feeling away.

Saint’s eyes stare down into mine before trailing to my lips and back. I can feel the physical tension between us. It’s thick as fog now, and we are on the cusp of breaking through that fog.

His teeth graze his lower lip as he eyes my lips again, and he nods, tightening his hold on my lower back, pulling me into him tighter.

It surprises me. How much I like it. Knowing he’s watching. He wouldn’t hurt Saint. If he wanted to, he would’ve already. He needs him for something. Just as he needs me.

We are all just pieces in Aero’s game.

He’s using me. Molding me into something I’ve yet to understand. Whittling away at my core, he’s sharpening me to become the dagger he requires. Another man using me to his own advantage by ways of seduction and unfortunate truths.

What he doesn’t realize is I’m already a dagger. Shielded and hidden in a world where I thought my knowledge and drive protected me.

I know I’m playing with fire.

But Aero has yet to learn of the flames bound to burn him.