Page 10 of Dormeo
“Tough workout?” I ask, hoping some mindless small talk might bring him out of his sour humour. Taking a chance, I step closer to the couch where Barghest is now sprawled out, head resting on a black velvet cushion, with his tongue lolling out to the side.
“You could say that.” Ash sneers, finally lifting his eyes to give me a sharp look. He’s not in the mood for chit-chat.
As he toes off his boots and stows them on a rack near the door, I notice that his feet are black, nails black, five toes just like me. I don't know what I expected, whether I thought they'd be different, hooves maybe, but they're strikingly human.
I stare in fascination as he continues to move around, pouring himself a glass of water and staring out the window in silence at the night sky. He’s behaving just like any other man, uninterested in me, as he turns and strides toward the bathroom.
I feel like the one night stand he’s disappointed to find is still hanging around. Except he specifically told me not to set foot outside the door, so I’m stuck here.
“I never thought about whether you'd exercise in hell,” I comment inanely. “It seems rather… boring.”
Ash stands up to his full height and looks at me like I'm the stupidest person he's ever met.
“It's not the kind of workout that one does for fun, little human,” he says condescendingly.
Despite knowing that I shouldn't risk irritating this man, I give a little huff and tip my chin up slightly, allowing my gaze to travel over his sculpted muscles.
“Well, you sure look like you worked up a sweat,” I say with a nonchalant shrug.
There’s no way I’m letting him know how much his attitude bothers me. Do I want him to think me clever? To engage me in conversation?
Am I that lonely and desperate?
Ash gives me a hard assessing look and continues into the bathroom, pulling a towel off a rail as he passes.
A white fluffy towel. In his hands, it looks absurd. It’s quite possibly the only non-black item in his entire residence.
Ash moves closer to me, stalking me like a deadly predator, probably because he is one. His eyes never once leave my face, trapping me in his gaze, until he's just a foot away from me.
I get a blast of his intoxicating scent and feel the heat radiating from him. Suddenly, I feel all hot and bothered with this big hulking man looming over me.
“Remember where you are, Rose. This is not a safe place for you, or for anyone, with the misfortune to land themselves here.” Another smell hits my nose, and I'm struggling to place it when Ash grips my hand around the wrist and pulls my arm toward him. “You are here because of your father’s cowardly act, so you are granted protection. But those who deserve their place here… well, they don’t get such favourable treatment. ”
He uses his hold on me to force the towel into my hand, then controls my movements, wiping the cloth down his gleaming chest, mopping up the sweat that clings to him.
Butterflies dance within my stomach, delighted for this excuse to touch him.
I’ve never seen a man’s chest this close up before, and for some reason, I want to touch him, not with the towel, but with my own skin.
I want to feel those tight muscles beneath my soft palm.
I want to know whether his skin is soft like mine, or harder and leatherier like it looks.
But those lust filled thoughts flee my mind when the towel comes away, covered in bright red marks. I blink hard and look up into his russet eyes.
Then it hits me what the other scent I can detect is. It’s the coppery tang of blood.
Ash stands before me, powerful and dominant, watching with interest as the realisation hits me. He’s uninjured. This blood is not his.
“Oh God,” I whisper, yanking my hand away and loosening my grip on the towel.
Ash lets me, with an amused smirk on his face, enjoying my shock.
“Are they alive? Oh God, what did you do?”
The words tumble from my lips as I take two steps back, staring at the bloodied towel as Ash picks it up, continuing to wipe it over his body until it's nothing more than a ball of red. You would never know it was a white towel before he got his hands on it.
Fear clutches my chest. I say nothing, despite the urge to scream and run that’s bubbling up inside me. I know it will do me no good. I need to stay calm.
“The man whose blood I'm wearing murdered two people for no reason. No motive, no remorse. Just wanted to see what it would feel like.” Ash raises an eyebrow. “Would you prefer that he's left to his own devices, or do you agree that he gets sent here to suffer in the same way his victims did?”
Bile rises up in the back of my throat, and white-hot rage burns through my veins. A friend of mine was brutally murdered when we were teenagers. I have no sympathy for anyone who had committed such a heinous act.
“He should suffer,” I whisper, gritting my teeth.
Ash nods, looking impressed that I didn’t plead for leniency.
“Somebody has to exact such punishments, and it's not going to be you, so don't look at me like I'm the one who's done something wrong here.” Ash holds his arms out and gestures to the building around us. “We provide a deterrent and carry out the punishment. That's all we are here.”
Ash eases closer, and I swallow hard, still anxious knowing he’s literally covered in another man’s blood from head to toe.
“Granted, there are those who enjoy it a little more than is healthy, but it's not exactly the kind of work that attracts people with a weak stomach and impeccable morals.”
He points at where my hands clutch my stomach, implying that I'm weak, and that I can't handle the idea of him brutally torturing someone as revenge for those they’ve hurt.
I don't know what to say, because truth be told, it gives me a little thrill to know that person got what they deserved, at his strong, lethal hands.
He's about to turn away when I reach out and run my finger along his abs, catching a drip of blood that he's missed slowly making its way over the dips and ridges of his rock-hard stomach.
Ash’s eyes blaze as he watches me touch him, but he doesn't tell me to stop. So, I continue to trail my fingertips lower until they rest gently on the waistband of his leather trousers.
I raise my eyes to his, the room so silent now, that you could hear a pin drop.
“Thank you.”
Stunned, he blinks hard. His nostrils flare and his jaw clenches, every tendon standing out, as he glares down at me, expression intense and unfathomable.
I'm about to pull my hand away when he snags my arm, yanking it back, so forcefully, that I have to take a tiny step forward to keep my balance.
“Little human, do you understand why your father drugged you to bring you here?”
I nod. “So, I wouldn't see any of the horrors that go on down here. Or remember if they were done to me.”
Ash tilts his head, like that’s only part of the reason. “Do you also know what effect being so close to hell can have on the human mind? Or inhibitions.”
I shake my head, taking in every line and surface of his strong, handsome face.
“Lust, little one. Your daddy dearest wants to protect his investment.” Ash looks me up and down slowly, and I bristle, knowing it’s the truth, but still not liking it said out loud.
“It can make human women do all kinds of things that their innocent little minds would never even dare wish for in the human realm.”
Immediately, I know what he’s talking about. Every morning, I’ve awoken frustrated, and damp between the thighs.
“What makes you think I have an innocent mind?” I mutter, trying to regain an equal footing with my jailor once more.
Ash leans in and sniffs, smiling broadly as he leans back.
“Okay, I'll concede. You might not have an innocent mind, but you have an innocent body. If you're not careful, it won’t remain untouched for much longer.”