𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑 ✓ | 18+

Chapter Thirty-Two

Isabelle

I hated him with a passion that burned brighter than the sun, yet I loved him with a depth that drowned me in the depths of his darkness.

Later on that night , while I lay on the edge of a restless sleep, I suddenly felt the unexpected weight of an arm draping over my waist. and of course it was him, a chill ran down my spine as his fingers began tracing small, deliberate circles on my belly. The sensation felt alien and invasive, sending a wave of discomfort through me. Instinctively, I cringed away from his touch but forced myself to maintain the steady rhythm of breathing that comes with deep sleep, hoping he wouldn't notice I was awake.

Why couldn't he just leave me be?

Every muscle in my body tensed under the pretense of sleep, my mind racing with a mix of fear and disgust. I could feel his presence looming behind me, his breath faintly brushing against the back of my neck. It was a stark reminder of the reality I was trapped in—a reality where boundaries didn't seem to exist for him.

They never existed for him

As minutes ticked by, his hand continued its slow, eerie dance across my skin. Each circle felt like an invasion, a violation that I was powerless to stop without revealing that I was awake. I was caught in a torturous limbo, wanting nothing more than to pull away, to escape his touch, yet knowing that any movement might provoke a reaction I wasn't prepared to handle.

The room was silent, save for the soft hum of the city at night filtering through the windows. The darkness felt oppressive, almost tangible in its weight, pressing down on me as I lay there, immobilized by dread and the need to keep my pretend slumber convincing.

I tried to subtly shift away from his enveloping grip, hoping my movements would seem like nothing more than restless sleep. Yet his arm around my waist held fast, unyielding against my feeble attempts to escape.

"I know you're awake," he murmured suddenly, his voice low and disturbingly close.

My body tensed, and I nearly let out a grunt of frustration. How could he possibly know? Instead, I opted for a different tactic, emitting a series of overly exaggerated snores.

A chuckle vibrated through his chest, a sound that somehow managed to be both mocking and warm. He leaned in, his breath tickling my ear as he whispered, "Has anyone ever told you, you're a terrible actor?"

The intimacy of his words sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. Annoyed and desperate for some semblance of personal boundary, I retorted without thinking, "Has anyone ever told you about personal space?"

"I thought you were sleeping?" he teased, his tone playful yet edged with something darker. Then, without warning, he licked my neck. The sudden wet touch sparked an unexpected warmth that spread rapidly through my body.

and holy fuck I was getting turned on

It was unsettling how quickly my body reacted to his minimal provocations. "I'm tired, can you not?" I pleaded, trying to keep my voice even.

"Not what? Taste you?" he replied, his words dripping with desire.

"It's weird, stop it," I muttered, feeling too drained to engage in a proper argument.

"Never," he shot back, his grip tightening as he pulled my back closer against his chest. His hand resumed its slow, deliberate circles on my belly, his touch somehow both soothing and invasive.

"Sleep," he commanded softly, as if he could order my body to obey.

Against all odds, his rhythmic caresses lulled me into a deep sleep. It was a heavy, almost oppressive slumber that wrapped around me like a thick blanket. Despite the complexity of my emotions—fear, confusion, and an unsettling sense of security—I found myself sinking into a surprisingly peaceful oblivion, cradled in the arms of the very person I Fear and hate most.