Page 3 of Beast's Wife
He toyed with the idea of lying to her. He didn’t like people lying to him, but he didn’t have a problem doing it himself. He also didn’t give a fuck if it made him a hypocrite. People could lie to him, but then they would pay the price. If they could survive, good for them, otherwise, they were going to haveto suck it all the fuck up.
“I saw the scars on your back. Also, after the doctor told me you needed medication and should have been seen at least twenty-four hours before, it pissed me off. The scars, their lack of care, and their only interest in marrying you to me was the final straw, so they earned their death warrant.” He also knew it had pissed off Romone. He was still waiting for the other man to react.
Romone and he had been enemies for a long time. Where Romone was filled with the need for power and greed, he wasn’t.
The other man was quite happy to get others to do his dirty work for him, whereas he was more interested in getting the job done. Carver had no problem getting dirty. He was quite content to get up to his elbows in filth and blood.
“You did that for me,” she said.
“You’re my wife. No one fucks with you,” he said. “Anyone treats you with anything but respect, they answer to me. That’s it. From now on, if you don’t want to wash your feet, and you want to walk across the carpet, leaving mud patches, do so! We’ve got people who clean it up. And, when you’re hungry, do not wait for me to start eating. Dig in, eat.”
“I wouldn’t make a mess for the sake of it. It happened a couple of times when I was a child. Also, I think on one of the occasions my brother stole my towel so I didn’t have a choice but to make a mess.”
“Your brother was a coward,” Carver said. He’d been one of her family that begged and pleaded, offering to do anything. They all had begged for their lives, but it had only been her brother who had offered to do anything, to be anything. Carver had made sure he suffered the longest.
Each of her family had been granted the beating they had seen fit to give her. The scars told a story, and Carver made sure each one got the pain of what she must have felt. None of themhad been able to take the whipping with a belt, or a cane, or even his hand.
He pushed those thoughts out of his head, and instead looked at his young wife. She picked up a slice of cheese and placed it between her lips, taking a bite.
Morgan was a beautiful woman. He had thought it many times, and now that she belonged to him, he didn’t have a reason to not look at her.
Her long, blonde hair fell around her in waves. It looked so soft and thick at the same time. He also loved how full and curvy she was. Large tits, juicy thighs, a rounded stomach. He had a feeling that irritated her family as well, especially as when he went into the kitchen, he discovered all the cupboards had been chained up. One of their servants and forced maids had told them they were not allowed to feed the daughter.
Much to Romone’s annoyance, not only had he killed the whole Rose family, including the aunts and uncles, he’d also made sure to free the men and women who’d been abused, kidnapped, and trafficked. He had contacts everywhere, and he’d delivered them to a man he could trust. The last update he got indicated that most of them had been placed with their families. Seeing as he was righting a few wrongs, he made sure to take Romone’s money and distribute it among the survivors.
He wasn’t a good guy. There was no good reason he did it. Carver did it to piss a man off, to incite his rage, because he wanted to play with him. Romone was a thorn in his side, one that needed to be extracted. It would be easy to do, but first, he loved playing with his victim.
Chapter Two
The following morning, Morgan woke up and stared at the white ceiling above her head. After sharing lunch with her husband, and being shocked to discover it was in fact her that had gotten her parents killed, he’d left.
For the rest of the day, she had no choice but to fend for herself, which hadn’t been too difficult. His home was vast and full of things to do. He had a small library, complete with many kinds of books, including a small selection of romances. She didn’t know if he was a romance reader himself, but she loved those kind of books.
Glancing through each cover, she couldn’t help but smile. She loved to read, and romances were her favorite. When you lived a horror story, anything but romances was justified.
She didn’t need to watch or read horror, as she lived it. He had a game room, complete with an air hockey table, which was epic, along with a few games. She spent an hour there, and the truth was, she wanted to play the air hockey table, but no one was there, and it was boring trying to do it herself.
He had an indoor pool and sauna. She hadn’t gone for a swim yesterday, but she smiled, thinking about doing that very thing today.
Sitting up in bed, she stopped stretching, as she caught sight of a gift on the corner of the bed, opposite from where her legs were. It hadn’t been there the previous night. Reaching for it, she pulled it into her lap and stared. The wrapping was gold foil, beautiful, and it looked expensive.
She never got presents, even at Christmas. Although her family put up a tree, there had never been any gifts. No Santa, no nothing. The magic of Christmas hadn’t been present in her home.
Tearing into the wrapping, she couldn’t help but smile,as it felt amazing. It was a small package, and she glanced at it, finding the zipper, and opening it up. At first, she didn’t know what it was, but then, as she pulled out each item, she couldn’t help smiling. They were skin care products—facial cleanser, toner, moisturizer, sunscreen, and everything in between.
Along with her own room, her husband had also provided her with a tablet she’d been able to use to surf the Internet, watch videos, and he must have some way of knowing what she watched. She loved watching skin care routines.
Grabbing her goodies, as well as her bag, she climbed out of bed and walked into the small en-suite bathroom. Lining up her precious bottles against the sink, she marveled at how pretty they looked. She refused to think of what she had back home as that was so minor. Her parents wouldn’t get her anything, even if she dared to ask.
She quickly used the toilet, washed her hands, and got started with the cleanser, all the way through to the sunscreen, to finish her routine. Her face felt lovely and soft, and she felt incredibly rejuvenated.
Once that was done, she walked back to the bedroom and made her way to the closet. There were dresses in many varieties of colors. Today, she opted for the pastel blue, along with a pair of flat shoes. She ran a brush through her hair, and when she was done, she left the bedroom and made her way downstairs toward the dining room. Her husband was nowhere to be seen. No one was around.
His staff tended to stay out of her way, and she hoped it wasn’t out of fear, or anything like that. She didn’t want anyone to be afraid of her. She would never try to get them in trouble.
Breakfast was already waiting for her at the table. She sat down in the chair he’d placed for her yesterday. She didn’t reach for anything, her nerves getting the best of her. The feelings she had only moments ago seemed to be replaced by that fear ofgetting hit.
Her father’s slap was always the hardest, but so too was her mother’s. They both enjoyed dishing out punishments, as did her brother. She rubbed at her temple and tried not to think about what was going to happen. Instead, she focused on now.