Empress Of Wrath, Blood And Desire

Chapter 13: Scheme

Aurora (Sabrina) Velasco POV

The next day

My hand ruffles my dampened curls as I walk out of my supposed bedroom, suited in a white oversized t-shirt that covers my knees and only underwear.

It's possibly eleven in the morning, and I've just washed my hair after one of the coldest showers I've had in a while.

It feels amazing, better than the ones I endured in my old apartment complex and the abandoned places I've stayed over the years. I haven't had a decent shower since I ran, and then I met Marcello, who's given me the unexpected luxury of clean water.

Yesterday after my session with the asshole, when he left me in the cellar, I left there after a few minutes to go to my room and touch myself as many times as possible even though I never wanted to but the burning desire Marcello left me with said otherwise.

I was burning. Heavily burning to the point I felt like losing my mind. And all I could think about was how he felt inside me the last time we had sex.

I despise him, there is no doubt, my immense hatred for him holds no bounds, but wanting to have sex with him is driving me to the brink of insanity because I am profoundly and crazily sexually attracted to him in ways that should be illegal, in ways the devil think is unacceptable.

He's hot, Godly, and devilishly hot, there is no doubt about that and he has a very entrancing deep, and low voice that skyrockets his charm and sexiness and I am being pulled deeply by them.

He knows that too and no matter how many times I tried not to be pulled into the depths of his overwhelming charisma I am anyway, as though I have no self-control. He controls me majority of the time without even knowing it, and I hate to admit it. I also hate it profoundly.

That's why I had fucked one of his soldiers back at the cellar, to get my thoughts off him.

It didn't work. I still think about Marcello every second. My hatred and my desires for him plaque my mind.

However, even though my sexually frustrating feelings are high-ranking in levels I deem not healthy or normal, my need to leave this place still is as heavy as ever.

My eyes follow the soldiers as they scurry through the hallways, switching positions like clockwork, predictable and efficient.

Just as expected.

Humming softly to myself, I make my way down the corridor and slip into an opening on my left. It leads to an empty sitting room, quiet and still, with two grilled-up windows on either side.

The house is enormous, a three-story fortress, yet I haven't ventured beyond the second floor since I arrived.

I pause to take in the space around me. The room is meticulously arranged, as though untouched. Pristine white sofas encircle a glass, oval-shaped table, reflecting the afternoon light that barely filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The honey-brown curtains, heavy and elegant, hang perfectly, sealing off the outside world.

The silence here is oppressive, the air too clean, too calm. This house, no matter how grand, is still a damn cage.

Almost every corner of this place is monitored, cameras discreetly tucked away, save for the bathrooms- that I know about.

The bars on the windows remind me that this isn't just a home, but a prison dressed in opulence. Even the patio at the side, with its door leading outside, seems too easy. And easy, I've learned, is always a trap. If it looks simple, it's because something is waiting, lurking just ahead.