Love & Exorcisms | 18+ | COMPLETE |

- Chapter 43 -

I woke with a start, confused and dazed with sleep. It took several long seconds before I remembered where I was and how I had gotten there. Sunlight was once again streaming in through the window's gauzy curtains, and I had not slept so well in a year.

The bed was blessedly warm and I snuggled deeper beneath the blankets, covering my nose so only my eyes peeked out above. My body still felt the lingering aches of my fight the previous day, and there was a sting in my hand from the tender wound there. I squirmed onto my back - and ooh, that sting on my backside too. Memories, sensations from the previous night rushed back. Lying over Damian's knee with his leather-clad hand slapping home my lesson. I shuddered, and a little smile tweaked the corner of my lips.

Foolish, perverted girl...

The voice had a thousand echoes. Other whispers crowded it, but were so faint they were indiscernible. So they were still there. Krahia had been defeated, but I had seen two others in my dreams and their names were yet unknown.

They would be dealt with. I had to trust that Damian would help me, as he already had. The anxiety that had bubbled up inside of me at the sound of their voices was swiftly dampened. Damian...he would help. He had promised.

And I wasn't going to fall into their clutches without a fight either.

I got out of bed and slipped out of my nightgown to instead put on the gray dress Rachel had left folded for me. It was slightly too big, and I was still without my proper underthings, but what difference did modesty make? There was no one in the house who hadn't seen me entirely naked - hell, a good portion of the city had seen me in the nude as well.

There was also a small naughty part of me that was pleased with how perky my breasts looked beneath the dress, and the slight imprint of my nipples in the fabric. I hoped Damian noticed.

Whore. Worthless little whore.

My footfalls across the room must have alerted Octavio that I was awake, for there came a soft knock on the door. I called for him to come in before the lock was thrown back and the door tossed open. Octavio peered in at me from the hall, having taken some hasty steps back as he flung the door open. I smiled at him as sweetly as I could. I had grown so used to smiling with the intent to seduce, that doing so without seeming flirtatious felt awkward.

"Good morning," I said, deciding I wouldn't make an attempt to step out of the room until he had invited me. His forehead creased with concern and his prominent adam's apple bobbled.

"There's...breakfast...downstairs," he said. "Damian is waiting for you." He added the last part quickly, as if to reassure both me and himself that there would be some kind of safeguard against any antics.

"Thank you," I smiled again as I tentatively stepped out the door. That strange symbol above it gave me shivers every time I passed beneath it, and I made a mental note to ask Damian about it. I followed Octavio three floors down, trying to take my time to admire the many halls and closed doors that I had yet to explore. I wondered if I would ever get to...my mood that morning felt peculiarly hopeful.

The dining room was downstairs, beyond the kitchen and Damian's office, occupying the back of the residence in an open, airy room. The back wall was dominated by three large windows that looked out upon the backyard, and I was stunned to see a small yard and garden, shaded by the boughs of an old oak tree. I rushed to the window, straight past the table - though my nose told me it was laden with delicious things - and pressed my hands and face to the glass. I could see roses, carefully trimmed hedges, blooming flowers of white and lilac, even a little brick path and bench.

"Do you like the view?" Damian's voices dragged me away from my admiration of the yard to give my attention to the room at last. He sat there at the head of the table, his dark hair loose and freshly washed, lying damp upon his shoulders. He wore a loose black shirt and gray trousers, and was barefoot as usual. He was positioned crookedly in his chair, leaning against the armrest with one foot up on the other knee, a newspaper open in his hands.