Looking over my shoulder, I no longer see him and smile at myself. The old concrete structure comes into view, and I take a sharp right. Walking up the two steps, I push open one of the heavy doors and step inside.
Pressing my back against it, I blink, giving my eyes a second to adjust while I catch my breath. Drinking and running are not two things I suggest be done together.
It has three stained-glass windows that run across the top of the opposite end, but they don’t allow much light to filter in. Especially on a night like tonight. The lingering musty smell has me turning up my nose. You can hear the wind outside. It’s so strong it makes the tree limbs rustle against the side of the building.
Pulling my cell out of my back pocket, I turn on the flashlight to see better.
It’s on the smaller side. Built from nothing other than concrete. Both the right and left walls contain past Lords concealed in their tombs. Each side is stacked four high and three deep.
There’s a small bench in the center of the room so you can sit and pay your respects or cry for the Lord who’s been tucked away from the world they betrayed.
There are dirt and dead leaves all over the floor. My boots crunch them as I walk to the back. Two concrete pillars stand tall on either side, and two more Lords lie between them in concrete tomb-like structures.
They must be really important. Lords are allowed to be buried wherever they want—with their families. It’s the ones who betray their oaths that are brought and dumped here in the cemetery behind the cathedral. So for these Lords to have been placed in the mausoleum—a private burial within concrete—means they were very respected. Founders, maybe? Even those, I’ve known to be burned and tossed away with the wind if they’ve fucked over the society.
Stepping up on the platform, I run my hand over the dirt-covered crypts. There are no names carved that I can see, just bodies forgotten and left to rot.
This will be me one day. Once I’m gone, no one will come and visit me.I’m not mad about it. I’ve just learned it’s the way of life. No one cares about you when you’re alive or when you’re dead.
It makes me think of the woman I found in the cemetery. Left to rot all alone after she spent God knows how long being tortured. Her family deserved to know what happened to her. She deserved to rest in peace.
The sound of the doors opening behind me is a reminder that I was supposed to be hiding. But deep down, I really want to be found. I’ve spent so many years alone; what’s forty-eight hours belonging to someone? Even if it is just as a toy for him to play with.
The liquor has my blood warming, and the thought of Kashton fucking me has my pussy clenching. It’s going to be a good night after all.
“Found you, angel. Know what that means?”
I hide my smile before I turn around to face him, shining my flashlight in order to see. He’s standing in front of the closed doors, his tatted arms crossed over his chest and his duffel bag on the dirty concrete floor at his combat boots. His hat is still on and turned backward. His chiseled jaw and pretty blue eyes make me weak in the knees.
My flashlight makes him look evil and hauntingly devilish. Like a god coming to take me away. But I’m not going to heaven. None of us do in our world. It’s a one-way trip to hell.
My eyes meet his when I say, “I’m all yours for the next forty-eight hours.” I’ve tried to kill myself twice. I might as well live my life while I’m alive.
TWENTY-TWO
KASHTON
She stands there staring at me. I’m not surprised my girl agreed to my terms. I knew she would.
Eve is guarded, but she’s also not one to back down from a challenge. I’m going to push her to see how far she’ll go. Sexually and mentally. I want to see just how much of her past still controls her life now.
Adam said she’s on a revenge murdering spree because she hates men. What did they do to her that she hates them that much?
I’ve seen pictures and read reports of women who spent time at Dollhouse, but none of them survived. What did she do differently? I can tell she’s strong. The woman is also hardheaded and infuriating, but she’s going to be all mine. Even if I have to keep her locked in my basement until she comes around to the idea of being my wife.
It doesn’t matter what happened in her past. I’m her future. I’m going to be her Lord. “Get undressed.”
Her eyes widen and her cell begins to shake in her hand at that thought of being so vulnerable out here. “But?—”
“I give you an order, you follow,” I remind her. It’s that easy.
She nods and places her cell on the crypt behind her, flashlight up. Slowly, she grips the hem of her shirt and pulls it up and over her head, her hair cascading down over her back in the process.
“Bra and underwear. I want to see what’s mine,” I inform her, and her hand pauses before she reaches around and unclasps her bra.
Then she’s undoing her jeans, slipping out of her boots and pushing the denim down her perfectly toned legs. I’m salivating as I imagine them wrapped around my head like that night in the cathedral office.
I pick up my duffel bag and walk across the mausoleum, closing the small space, and place the bag on top of the opposite crypt.
