Chapter 36 - THIRTY SIX

Chapter 36: Chapter THIRTY SIX

ANGEL

I stayed quiet, not bothering to deny that the thought had crossed my mind.

He nearly added something to the pot, then stopped and cursed under his breath. "Fuck. You’re allergic to shrimp."

I was surprised that he remembered something like that. I had only eaten a shrimp snack once in my life and my skin was spotted red for days, but this had occurred about five years ago, why did Damien know about it? The fact that he’d stored away something so small, so insignificant about me — it didn’t comfort me. It made my skin prickle. Because it meant he’d been studying me long before he ever took me.

He dropped the ingredient, "Inés has a bad habit of mislabeling things," he muttered, more to himself than me.

My curiosity was piqued. "Who’s Inés?"

"The housekeeper." He gave me a look like I was dumb for asking something I obviously didn’t know.

The food was placed in front of me nearly an hour later. The pasta looked perfect — almost exactly like the kind Martha used to make back home.

My hands shook as I reached for the fork. My eyes started to water.

It was stupid. I’d been through so much worse. Why was I crying over a plate of fucking pasta?

Because it smelled like the kitchen in Daddy’s house. Because it smelled like before.

"Why are you crying now?" Surprise crossed Damien’s features. "Does it still hurt?"

I wanted to laugh hysterically. Why the hell was he asking? He loved it when I cried. He always came hardest when tears were streaming down my face and I was begging him to stop. But here he was, standing over a pot of homemade pasta, asking me if I was in pain — like he hadn’t been the one to carve that pain into me with his bare hands.

The question I’d been holding back for days finally burst out: "I keep thinking, you’ve been cumming inside me. What if I get pregnant?" I met his stare, forcing myself not to look away. "Or catch some disease? Wouldn’t that lower my value? For other men that will purchase me after my training is over?" I couldn’t keep the sour taste from my voice.

The atmosphere changed.

I was consumed by my own bitterness that I almost missed Damien’s reaction, his entire body went still, his jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. His eyes narrowed sharply like I’d said a bad word.

And for one second, my heart nearly stopped.

Then I understood.

He was ... jealous?!

He never went a day without telling me what the "men" would do with me, and what was expected from a whore and now this? It was both shocking... and at the same time thrilling. Like a new card had suddenly appeared in the game. One I hadn’t been dealt — one I’d stolen right off the table while the dealer wasn’t looking.

He wouldn’t let other men touch me. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

And that — that twisted little truth — was the first real power I’d felt since I woke up in this house.

Damien stepped closer, his cold look was gone, he was smirking again. "You don’t need to worry about that."

"Why?"

"Because I’m free from STDs and I already took care of the chances of a pregnancy happening."

I stared at him, my mind racing with a mix of confusion and apprehension. "What do you mean?"

"Jillian handled your medical records so I knew you hadn’t gotten the shot yet. So, I administered your contraceptive while you were asleep that first day,"

Shock froze me for a heartbeat. Then rage and disbelief surged through my chest.

"You did WHAT?!" The words exploded from me before I could stop them. "You can’t just — just decide things about my body!"

He didn’t look at all fazed by my outburst, I wiped angry tears from my cheek with a swipe of my wrist. Of course he wasn’t fazed. He’d been inside my body without permission more times than I could count. What was one more violation to a man who collected them?

"Why the tears, Angel? I thought you should be relieved, or are you disappointed you won’t be carrying my baby?"

I wanted to snap at him, to tell him that I was so relieved that he’d done at least one good thing, even though I didn’t like the fact that he’d abused my body without my knowledge. But a strange hint in his voice as he asked that made my own words splutter on my tongue.

If I said I was fucking happy not to be pregnant with his monster babies, would he see it as a challenge?

Now, there was a burning look in his eyes — hungry and possessive — that suggested the idea might appeal to him. The way he watched me, waiting for my answer, it was the same way he watched me when he was deciding whether to be gentle or not. Like my response was the coin toss. My blood chilled further with disgust, but I wasn’t stupid enough to show it.

He always did things that I was disgusted with, I didn’t even want to risk it by tempting him with this. A baby. His baby. Inside me. The thought alone made something in my chest seize up and die.

There was only one right answer that would satisfy him. It was humiliating.

"I’m whatever you want. My opinion doesn’t matter." I said.

Every word tasted like poison going out. But the alternative — the alternative was him deciding to prove a point. And Damien’s points were always proven on my body.

A look of satisfaction gleamed in his eyes which I wanted to rip out.

His hand reached out, and I flinched involuntarily. But he just ruffled my hair, an almost affectionate gesture that made my skin crawl because it was wrong, so strange. Like being pet by the same hand that had held me down.

"You’re learning so quickly," his voice was warm, approving. "Vin is going to be so pleased with how trained you’ve become."

I bit my lip, he was still watching me. Unwilling, that word evoked a tear from my eye.

Trained.

Like I was an animal. Like everything that made me me was just behavior to be corrected until I performed on command.

I lost my appetite, and the sight of the pasta made my stomach churn. When was the last time I thought of Daddy without Damien invading my every thought like a parasite? He’d made himself the center of my world and I hadn’t even noticed it happening. Daddy’s face was getting blurry. Not gone — but fading. Like a photograph left in the sun too long.

"C-can I ever speak to him?"

Even though Damien said Daddy was doing this to me, a part of me still doubted him.

"No." Damien’s expression hardened, going from almost-gentle to brutal in a heartbeat. "He already saw those videos I sent him. The ones of you taking my cock like the perfect little whore you’ve become. I’m sure he’s very proud."

A sob caught in my throat, threatening to choke me.

Proud of my suffering?

No. I couldn’t believe that. I refused to believe that Daddy had completely abandoned me to this monster. There had to be a reason.

"Now eat."

Like a puppet, I obeyed. Lifted the fork to my mouth even though every bite tasted like ash, even though swallowing felt like choking. I chewed and I swallowed and I didn’t taste a single thing, because every nerve in my body was busy doing the only job that mattered — surviving this meal. Surviving the next hour. Surviving him.

"Do you like it?"

No.

I hated it.

I despised myself for playing this role. But I nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

Damien’s phone rang.

A sudden, jarring sound that made me jump.

It had been so long since I’d heard a phone that the noise felt alien, like an echo from another world where technology and freedom existed.

Damien hesitated, he looked like he wanted to ignore it, almost got me believing that nothing was more important than him watching me eat the meal he’d made.

But after a moment, he checked the screen and something hard passed across his face.

"I’ll be right back," he said, already moving toward the hallway.

The second he disappeared, my heart started racing so fast I thought I might pass out.

This was it. This was the opportunity I’d been playing broken and docile for.

Every meal I’d choked down. Every yes, Damien. Every time I’d swallowed my rage until it burned a hole through the lining of my stomach. All of it — for this. For the thirty seconds he’d give me with his back turned.

I slid off the stool on shaking legs and scanned the kitchen with new eyes. There were cast-iron pans that could cave in a skull. Several knives that could serve as weapons.

But what good would a knife do me against Damien?

He was too big, stronger than me. I’d seen the way he’d easily crushed Kelvin, I’d end up with my own blade buried in my chest before I could even swing.

Then I saw it.

The most unexpected weapon.

It came in the form of a white container, half-hidden on a shelf.

It was labeled, ’Sleeping Pills’.

I stared at it for a second, unable to believe my luck.

Someone like Damien needed sleeping pills? But why?

Who the fuck cared? This was my lifeline!

My pulse thundered as I grabbed the container with trembling hands and opened it. There were so many inside. Little white promises of unconsciousness — his unconsciousness.

Would he notice if I took a few? Two? Five?

Fuck it. I needed enough to knock out a man his size, just to make sure he wouldn’t wake up while I ran.

My hands shook violently as I grabbed a handful — maybe seven pills. I closed my fist around them so tight the edges dug into my palm, grounding me, reminding me this was real and not another fantasy I’d built to survive the next hour.

Then I closed the container and set it back exactly where it had been, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. I glanced at the angle of the container. Was it tilted the same way? Was the label facing out? Damien noticed everything.

Now I just needed to hide them somewhere better, a place where I could access them when the opportunity came.

I moved into the living room on silent feet, Damien’s voice still murmuring from down the hall.

The sofa had deep cushions, and I quickly worked the pills into the crack between the seat and back, pushing them as far as my fingers could reach. My hands were slick with sweat. I could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips, in my throat, behind my eyes.

Come on. Come on. Come on.

"What are you doing?"

The voice came from behind me, and my movements froze.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

I hadn’t heard him approach at all.