Page 38 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)
Not from its usual pain but from a deep yearning I’ve never experienced before. This beautiful angel curled up in my bed—the angel I’ve dreamt of during so many trials of pain and torture—is finally mine.
Last night we shared in more passion, though she still resists me. She refuses my touch even as I can’t help myself from having her. I had been overcome with intense desire and had consumed her the second the bedroom door closed. Perhaps too strong and aggressive… but it’s in my nature.
Soon she’ll adapt…
I stroke her cheek with my rough knuckles. “Angel,” I whisper. “Wake up. Do you want to see what I have to show you?”
Her eyes flutter to a slow open. She blinks at me in drowsy confusion. “Caelian…”
“Come with me.”
I lead Nevaeh from my bed to the hall. One of my strides equals two or three of hers. She scurries alongside me, trying to keep up as I grip her hand and walk her toward the staircase. Though she doesn’t ask where we’re going, I can sense she’s curious.
We arrive at the steel door on the east wing of the house where hardly anyone goes—except when me and my men need to access the compound a floor below. The east wing remains more barren and unused than other parts of my estate for that reason.
“Come,bella.” I clutch her hand as we start the spiraling descent down the staircase.
We’re plunged into darkness the farther down we go. Nevaeh’s body tenses up in caution. I pull her along faster so she won’t have a chance at trying to turn back.
“Where are we?”
“This is my compound,” I answer. “It is a de facto headquarters for my crew. It is for official business only.”
“Then why are you—”
“Shhh. You’ll see. Just this once. I have something for you.”
Any further protests are quelled.
We walk down the long hall that’s sparsely lit and made of cinderblock until we reach the room I’ve brought her down here for.
I’m not a man who experiences happiness or excitement in the manner most people do. My life has been rife with pain and suffering for as long as I can remember. My outlook and behavior has reflected that.
But, in a rare occurrence, a jolt of excitement hits me. At times it’s been difficult communicating with Nevaeh. She never seems to understand where I’m coming from, and I lack the patience to figure out why she’s so damn resistant all the time.
Last night is a perfect example. Our dinner had started promising, with Nevaeh showing up and eating her meal like I asked. Things quickly went left once we actually started a conversation. She insists on questioning me as if she has any authority in our marriage.
My fuse is short. My mood easily ruined.
We never recovered. Not even as we went to bed as husband and wife. Nevaeh wouldn’t kiss me like she had earlier in the morning; it was almost like two completely different women. One had glowed with passion while the other lay frigidly immobile as I had my way with her.
It shouldn’t matter to me if Nevaeh plays along. I’m going to do what I want regardless. She’s mine whether or not she wants to be.
…yet it irks me that she resists. That I can’t seem to get her on the same fucking page.
This might be my chance. Where the dance studio reveal ultimately fell flat,thismight be the way I’ll show Nevaeh how I feel.
“Close your eyes.”
She resists for a distrustful second before following orders. I twist the knob of the door I’ve brought her to and then guide her inside the room.
Some would say it’s barbaric. It’s gruesome and sickening that I’ve cultivated the collection I have. They would be right—however, sick and gruesome things are what a man like me prefers. The blood of my enemies and their heads on a pike.
“Okay,bella,” I say, gripping her shoulders from behind. “Open your eyes.”
Nevaeh does as I say, then erupts in an immediate scream. Her whole body convulses as if about to leap away, but I’m standing solidly behind her like an immovable wall. Nimble and quick, she escapes anyway, ducking from under my grip and zipping past me.
“Nevaeh!”