"There," he growls. "There's the note I was looking for."
He begins to move. It isn't making love. It isn't even sex. It is a possession. He moves his hand with the same rhythmic, relentless precision of a metronome.In. Out. In. Out.He finds the bundle of nerves that makes my vision blur and presses against it. Rubs it. Punishes it.
"Structure, Elodie," he commands, his voice harsh in my ear. "Focus on the rhythm. Don't you dare fall apart."
I am unraveling. The sensation is too much. It’s sharp, blinding pleasure mixed with the terror of his grip on my wrists. "Alaric... please..." I don't even know what I'm begging for. For him to stop? For him to never stop?
"Please what?" He adds a second finger. He stretches me. "Please, Sir?" he prompts.
"Please... Alaric..."
"Wrong answer." He withdraws his hand abruptly. The loss is a physical blow. I whimper, my body craving the fullness, the friction.
He grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. His pupils are blown wide, swallowing the silver. He looks deranged. He looks starving. "You don't get the release," he says cruelly. "You played chaos. Chaos doesn't get a climax. Chaos gets controlled."
He pulls his hand away completely. I am trembling, hovering on the edge of a cliff, desperate to fall, but he has snatched the ground away. My breath comes in ragged, broken heaves. My skin feels too tight for my body.
Alaric steps back. He adjusts his cuff. He looks at his hand—my slickness on his fingers. He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. Slowly. Deliberately. Maintaining eye contact.
It is the dirtiest, most degrading thing I have ever seen. And it sets my blood on fire.
"Go back to the room," he says. His voice is back to being cold. Clinical. The switch has been flipped. "Wash yourself. Put on the black dress. We have a dinner engagement."
I slide off the bench. My legs almost give out. I have to grab the piano lid to steady myself. I look at him, my chest heaving, my lips swollen from where I bit them to keep from screaming.
"You... you stopped," I whisper.
"Of course I stopped," Alaric says, walking to the door. "You haven't earned the finale yet."
He opens the door and holds it for me. "And Elodie?"
I look at him, hate and desire warring in my gut.
"Next time you decide to play Chopin..." he smirks. "Make sure you can handle the crescendo."
I walk past him, my body aching, my soul confused. I leave the Music Room. But the music hasn't stopped. It’s just changed. It’s not a Nocturne anymore. It’s a War Anthem.
I stumble back to the suite. I don't run this time. I can't. My body feels heavy, lush, hypersensitive. The friction of the wool dress against my thighs is torture. Every step reminds me of his fingers.So wet.
I reach the room and lock the door. I go straight to the bathroom. I turn on the shower. Cold water. Freezing water. I stand under the spray, clothes and all.
I gasp as the icy water hits me, trying to shock the heat out of my system. trying to wash away the phantom feeling of his hand. But I can't. I slide down the tiled wall, curling into a ball on the floor of the shower.
I touch myself. I have to. The ache is unbearable. I slide my hand down, trying to replicate what he did. Trying to finish what he started so I can think straight again. But it doesn't work. My touch feels clinical. Empty. It doesn't have the danger. It doesn't have theweight.
I scream in frustration, slamming my fist against the wet tiles. He broke me. He didn't just take my freedom. He took my pleasure. He rewired me so that I only work when he is holding the controls.
I lie there in the freezing water, shivering, unfulfilled, and terrified. because the scariest part isn't that he touched me against my will. The scariest part is that when he stopped... I wanted to beg him to come back.
CHAPTER 08
THE VIPERS' NEST
POV: Elodie Fray
Location:Dr. Graves' Private Suite -> The Grand Dining Hall (The Atrium)
Track:Everybody Wants To Rule The World– Lorde (Hunger Games Cover)
