Page 61
Story: The King of Hearts
Oh fuck.
I can’t be found like this. Icannotfucking be found like this. Dad will go ballistic, and there’s no telling what hell my brothers will cause.
I sit back on my heels, my eyes darting around frantically. I feel the whoosh of the blood rushing to my ears, and my heart tries to pound its way out of my chest.
What in the hell do I do?
I look to the shadowed spot wheremy devildisappeared, and I briefly wonder if he’s still out here watching me.
I’m going to fucking kill him the next time he comes to my room for doing this to me.
I need to get out of sight before someone walks out that door. I’ll worry about my trussed-up state once I’m safe from being discovered.
Just when I make the decision to roll like a fucking idiot to the same shadows he vanished to and hope like hell no one notices me, the shadow beyond the door moves away.
Oh, God.That was close. Too close.
My shoulders sag, which pinches the joints in my arms, sending a tingling sensation to my fingertips.
A noise comes from my left, away from the terrace, in the darkness close to the back wall of the church. A rustle of leaves or maybe a twig snapping. I hold my breath, straining my ears tolisten. And then a figure appears. At first, I think it might be my devil having come back to let me go.
But what if it isn’t him? What if it’s another attendee?
“Savina.”
The air wheezes out of my lungs in a rush at the familiar voice. He’s the only one I don’t mind finding me in my current situation.
Marcelo walks up, his black suit blending in with the darkness. He doesn’t rush or act concerned to find me how I am. He appears calm and collected, like he always does in tense situations. Nothing ever seems to faze him.
I wiggle on my knees, trying to twist so he sees the belt around my arms. “Get me out of this, please.”
He squats behind me, the woodsy scent that I always associate with him filling my senses.
“What happened?” he asks quietly.
“Just untie me, please,” I grit out between clenched teeth. The feeling comes back to my hands in a bite of charged tingling when he loosens the belt.
My arms fall to my sides when the belt is finally unwrapped around my arms. I try to lift them to roll my shoulders, but they feel too weak to move. I groan in pain when I force my limbs up.
Marcelo grabs my hand and under my bicep to help me to my feet. My legs feel nearly as weak as my arms. My knees try to buckle, but thankfully, my guard is there to catch me before I crumble to the ground.
“Do you want me to alert your parents?” he asks, staying by my side in case my knees give out again.
I jerk around to face him. “Absolutely not. This is none of their business.”
He gives me a terse nod. “You might want to visit the ladies’ room before you go back inside.”
I lift an arm that feels like spaghetti and finger my hair. The updo I did for the ball is in complete disarray. Half is still up while the other falls in tangles down my back. I wore mascara, so I’m sure my face looks even worse. And I feel indents on my arms from the belt. I hope they don’t bruise, because how in the hell will I explain the marks to my family?
“Take me home,” I tell him. “We’ll walk around to the front to avoid going inside. I’ll message Mom and tell her I’m not feeling well.”
Locating the little clutch I came with tonight by the terrace railing, I bend and pick it up. I dig for my phone and send a quick message. Hopefully, she won’t question my sudden illness and come looking for me.
“Let’s go,” I tell Marcelo.
I’m grateful when he holds out his arm for me to grab. I’m not sure I can trust my legs yet to carry me on my own. With the moon not on duty tonight, the area around the back of the church is dark and makes it difficult to navigate the grounds. Marcelo doesn’t seem to have the same problem as he expertly steers us around the side and to the front.
My body sags with relief when I see my parents’ Mercedes sitting at the bottom of the steps. It’s there like it was already waiting to transport me home. My nails dig into the material of Marcelo’s suit jacket when we reach the back of the car.
I can’t be found like this. Icannotfucking be found like this. Dad will go ballistic, and there’s no telling what hell my brothers will cause.
I sit back on my heels, my eyes darting around frantically. I feel the whoosh of the blood rushing to my ears, and my heart tries to pound its way out of my chest.
What in the hell do I do?
I look to the shadowed spot wheremy devildisappeared, and I briefly wonder if he’s still out here watching me.
I’m going to fucking kill him the next time he comes to my room for doing this to me.
I need to get out of sight before someone walks out that door. I’ll worry about my trussed-up state once I’m safe from being discovered.
Just when I make the decision to roll like a fucking idiot to the same shadows he vanished to and hope like hell no one notices me, the shadow beyond the door moves away.
Oh, God.That was close. Too close.
My shoulders sag, which pinches the joints in my arms, sending a tingling sensation to my fingertips.
A noise comes from my left, away from the terrace, in the darkness close to the back wall of the church. A rustle of leaves or maybe a twig snapping. I hold my breath, straining my ears tolisten. And then a figure appears. At first, I think it might be my devil having come back to let me go.
But what if it isn’t him? What if it’s another attendee?
“Savina.”
The air wheezes out of my lungs in a rush at the familiar voice. He’s the only one I don’t mind finding me in my current situation.
Marcelo walks up, his black suit blending in with the darkness. He doesn’t rush or act concerned to find me how I am. He appears calm and collected, like he always does in tense situations. Nothing ever seems to faze him.
I wiggle on my knees, trying to twist so he sees the belt around my arms. “Get me out of this, please.”
He squats behind me, the woodsy scent that I always associate with him filling my senses.
“What happened?” he asks quietly.
“Just untie me, please,” I grit out between clenched teeth. The feeling comes back to my hands in a bite of charged tingling when he loosens the belt.
My arms fall to my sides when the belt is finally unwrapped around my arms. I try to lift them to roll my shoulders, but they feel too weak to move. I groan in pain when I force my limbs up.
Marcelo grabs my hand and under my bicep to help me to my feet. My legs feel nearly as weak as my arms. My knees try to buckle, but thankfully, my guard is there to catch me before I crumble to the ground.
“Do you want me to alert your parents?” he asks, staying by my side in case my knees give out again.
I jerk around to face him. “Absolutely not. This is none of their business.”
He gives me a terse nod. “You might want to visit the ladies’ room before you go back inside.”
I lift an arm that feels like spaghetti and finger my hair. The updo I did for the ball is in complete disarray. Half is still up while the other falls in tangles down my back. I wore mascara, so I’m sure my face looks even worse. And I feel indents on my arms from the belt. I hope they don’t bruise, because how in the hell will I explain the marks to my family?
“Take me home,” I tell him. “We’ll walk around to the front to avoid going inside. I’ll message Mom and tell her I’m not feeling well.”
Locating the little clutch I came with tonight by the terrace railing, I bend and pick it up. I dig for my phone and send a quick message. Hopefully, she won’t question my sudden illness and come looking for me.
“Let’s go,” I tell Marcelo.
I’m grateful when he holds out his arm for me to grab. I’m not sure I can trust my legs yet to carry me on my own. With the moon not on duty tonight, the area around the back of the church is dark and makes it difficult to navigate the grounds. Marcelo doesn’t seem to have the same problem as he expertly steers us around the side and to the front.
My body sags with relief when I see my parents’ Mercedes sitting at the bottom of the steps. It’s there like it was already waiting to transport me home. My nails dig into the material of Marcelo’s suit jacket when we reach the back of the car.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 137
- Page 138
- Page 139
- Page 140
- Page 141
- Page 142
- Page 143
- Page 144
- Page 145
- Page 146
- Page 147
- Page 148
- Page 149
- Page 150
- Page 151
- Page 152
- Page 153