𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝟏𝟖+

IV

Violet

-Lucian's Residence-

I'm left finally untied, my limbs feeling like they've been set free from invisible chains, yet I curl up into a protective ball on the cold, unforgiving bed. I bet right now, my sobs are giving him the satisfaction he was begging for.

Sick jackass.

His touch is a jolt of electricity, making me twitch involuntarily, but he doesn't relent. He forces me to sit up on the edge of the bed, his grip firm but not harsh and yet, I still twitched anytime he raised a hand.

"Are you able to stand?" His voice is a low, gravelly whisper, carrying an edge of impatience that makes my heart race.

I don't even try to respond, my body feels like it's on the verge of giving out, my throat is dry and constricted. Nothing can come out. It's not like he deserves an answer anyway, he can fuck off for all I care.

"I do not like repeating myself, Violet." His tone hardens, and I can hear the underlying threat.

My mind races through a fog of fear and confusion. I really need to stop being so hardheaded.

"No..." I finally manage to whisper, my voice was barely audible, trembling with the effort he didn't deserve.

He sighs softly. His messy bed hair rustles as he runs a hand through it, a gesture that seems almost out of place in this moment.

"I do not want to hurt you, Violet. So do not give me a reason to."

A reason to?

"You gave me a reason to act this way." I clench my teeth, forcing myself not to cry, not to be so vulnerable in-front of a stranger. In front of a disgusting psychopath.

His eyes bore into mine, filled with a complex mix of emotions that I couldn't quite decipher. Yet he doesn't respond and slips an arm under my leg with the other supporting my neck, lifting me effortlessly into his arms.

His strength was undeniable, yet his touch was surprisingly gentle. I don't bother to resist, nor did I have the strength to so I allow it as he carries me to the bathroom.

Once inside, he sets me down carefully on the edge of the tub. My gaze wandered, taking in the toothbrushes, menstrual products, and other personal items meticulously arranged, each one pointing that he had planned this moment all along. A chill ran down my spine at the realization.

He's deranged and I better find a way out of here quick before he sticks his dick inside of me again.
He turned on the tap, adjusting the water temperature and steam began to rise, filling the room with warmth although I was still shivering.

   "Allow me," his gentle offer frightens me.

But he doesn't wait for a response before lifting me into the tub, I instinctively clutched onto his neck for support. "It hurts.. please don't,"

Despite my words, he forcefully pushes me into the water, causing a sharp, searing sensation to shoot through my body. The agony was overwhelming. I gasped, tears streaming down my face and I quickly cover my breasts, seeking some semblance of modest in this vulnerable state.

Fucking asshole.

"You do not need to hide from me, mio amore," he says softly, holding out a rag. "Let me,"

I shoot a fierce glare at him. Obviously I can't fucking hide anyway. Still, I found myself reluctantly releasing my grip.
As he began to scrub me, his touch was so tender, so careful, it's as if the man he had been earlier had vanished, replaced by someone entirely different.

He wet the cloth again, making it froth with bubbles, then applied it to my chest. I observe as he cleans, his touch deliberate and focused, until he reaches my abdomen.
Instinctively, I shield myself again, my hands trembling. Tears hover on the brink of spilling at any moment. When will I be released from this hell?