Red Silk (Steamy Romantic Fantasy)

Introduction

Everything looks better in the sun. Even this room seemed lovely earlier, when I prepared it. Sunrays fell from high and narrow widows to play on bright tapestries and shiny wood panelling. Candles everywhere. A four poster bed. A huge stone fireplace. A princess room in fairy tales. Sooo romantic.

Now, after nightfall, the setting has turned to sinister.

It's hot in here. The wood stove squatting in the monumental chimney is glowing, and it does a darn good job of heating the space. Which is quite fortunate because I'm right in the center of it, naked, in red silk sheets.

Silk, real, one-hundred-per-cent cocoon issued natural silk, is cool on the skin, as I discovered a few moments ago. I'm wrapped in it like a caterpillar, and shaking like I'm about to emerge a butterfly. I'm a bloody sacrifice, spread on a luxurious wool and linen mattress, made-to-order, because nothing else would fit this monstrosity of a bed. The thing has an antique, emperor-size frame of oak solid enough to have lasted several centuries. I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be as old as the walls of the Scottish castle whose tower room it's furnishing. Thank God, or moths, the drapes are missing. Were they red, I'd fear I am about to become Dracula's fiancée.

I did not choose any of this, I followed instructions. Followed them to the letter, up to the eyedrops I just used, which make my vision blurry, unable to distinguish more than shapes and colours. The soft light of the candles is blinding me, and I jump at every draft or creaking of the floor. Around me are moving shadows and dark corners. There might still be time to run, and I wish I could. I'm rambling, because I'm terrified. I have no idea who might come through this door. It's a man, but I never met him and his name is a mystery.

What if he is a brute? A sadist? A murderer? No, not a murderer. He needs me alive and healthy.

Only three people know I'm here. Only two know where here exactly is. I am not one of them. Yet I agreed to come here, to do this. Have sex with him.

I'm aware it sounds crazy. I'm not proud of this, I'm not happy with it. I have no choice.

Two months ago, I made a pact with the Devil. And right now, I can only hope it wasn't meant literally.