"Let me go." Why did she keep asking him that when she knew he wouldn't listen to her?
As Autumn approached the castle, a sense of unease crept up, intensifying with every step she took. The walls towered high above her, their jagged edges and twisted architecture creating an ominous silhouette against the night sky. The walls were adorned with startling red stained-glass windows, casting eerie shadows across the ground. The moon's pale glow cast an otherworldly light upon the castle, illuminating its sinister features and causing Autumn's skin to prickle with a sense of foreboding.
"What a fitting place to taste you," Zyler murmured, his voice laced with a twisted hunger. He looked around the eerie castle, taking in the haunting red stained glass and jagged walls. "Here, in the heart of darkness, where the shadows dance, and the spirits moan. Here, where your fear will only make your taste sweeter, I will taste you."
"Why would you torture me like this?" she began to hiccup.
Zyler's lips curled into a wicked smile as he leaned closer to Autumn. His voice was several octaves deeper than she had heard. He was dying of arousal. "Pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin," he pulled her closer, so close there was no space for air to enter. "And I intend to show you both," he whispered. "You'll beg me for more, and I'll make you feel things you never knew existed. Trust me, darling, the darkness within me will set you free," he rubbed her tears off her place.
"I don't want to feel anything, Sir. I don't even know what your intentions are. Please just forgive me for whatever I did intentionally or unintentionally," she didn't know how else to make that man let her go. He released her from his grasp and moved back. She thought he did listen to her after all. For a moment, she thought her pleadings worked. Maybe he took pity on her and would let her go. How naïve can she be?
"Do me a favor. Take off your clothes for me," he said, uncuffing his cuff buttons and rolling his shirt to his elbows, revealing his veiny hands. Autumn's eyes dilated in shock. Instinctively, her arms went to close her torn shirt, bringing both ends together and covering her body. She shook her head while Zyler raised his brow, challenging her to defy him.
Chuckling, he curled his fingers around the back of his jeans and pulled out his gun. Autumn's heart raced as fear took over. Her body trembled, and she felt a knot form in her stomach at the sight of the weapon. She could feel her pulse pounding in her temples as she struggled to keep her composure.
"Don't kill me, please," she pleaded.
"Now, Autumn, take that shirt off," he motioned to her with his gun.
"No," she knew she was asking for death, but she still refused to give in and listen to this depraved human.
That was it. His little dahlia was pissing him off now. "You won't listen to me then?" he cocked his brow, telling her she should. Autumn did not respond. Zyler wrapped his finger, tightening it around the trigger. The gunshot echoed throughout the castle, the explosion of sound bouncing off the stone walls and rattling the windows. The air was filled with the smell of gunpowder and the sound of the bullet whistling through the air. For a moment, all was silent as the echoes faded, leaving only the ringing in Autumn's ears.
With trembling hands, she undid her top. Leaving her only in her jeans and bra. "I want these off, too," he hooked the gun's tip in the band of her pants. "Now," the atmosphere only added to her fear.
"Are you going to kill me?" she asked while undressing herself.
"I already told you that I won't hurt you, not unless you make me," he traced the cold metal of that gun on her thighs, "so fucking beautiful," he murmured while tears lined her lids. She wanted to sob and weep until she couldn't breathe. That was the only thing that would make her feel better now.
YOU ARE READING
Burn Me Right
RomansAutumn Wraith took a step a 20-year-old shouldn't take. She was naïve for her own ruin. One wrong move, or should we say one wrong article? She writes about him, not knowing her pen was the knife that was going to turn on her. Her life was anchored...