Page 27 of Sin of Love
Julep tilts his head, eyes incredulous. “Did you think I’d ever allow someone else to break you? To scar you?”
“No, of course not. I’m glad it was you.” I lower my gaze, but not fast enough to hide my flinch. The spark of defiance and loathing.
Failed, failed, failed… the word hums inside me as I revert to my younger self. I grasp for darkness, for the sense of insulation inside my tree-root cave, but it sits just outside reach. Guilt keeps me present and accountable to the moment.
I whimper as Julep stands fast, his chair flying back, skidding across the floor as he rounds the table in two steps.
Failed… failed… He’ll hurt Nate… don’t resist… take the punishment…
I stay limp as a rag doll as he yanks me from my chair and throws me to the ground. My kneecaps and palms slap painfully against tile. A delicate hem near my hip tears and one capped sleeve falls down my arm, exposing my breast. I duck my head, press my brow to the ground, and don’t move.
Julep stands over me. His favorite place.
“I think you’re lying, doll. In fact, I doubt everything you’ve said and done tonight. I think you’re ungrateful for this second chance.”
I say, “I’m grateful, I swear,” even though I know it doesn’t matter. Won’t change anything.
Fabric rustles as he takes off his jacket and drops it to the floor. “If you must know, Margaret was a gift from my mother after I found my freedom again. After you tried to burn our home to the ground, after you… you—you—Goddammit, Deirdre, you tried to fucking kill me!”
His insanity and rage are smothering; tears pool in my eyes and drip to the tile. No matter how many times I’ve been here before, he is still utterly terrifying.
Breathing raggedly, Julep presses the tip of one shiny, wingtip shoe against my temple.
One kick and it’d all be over…
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice catching.
My desperation calms him somewhat. He steps back. I don’t move from my position of obeisance, hoping against hope he remembers how many hours I’ve spent in this pose. How once, I served his every desire—and almost fell prey to twisted need—to keep Nate safe from him.
“There were others,” he finally continues, as though his outburst never occurred, “but I didn’t keep them. And you’re right, Margaret is younger than you, and I suppose some might say more beautiful. But do you know what she lacks? Why I’ve never found a whore who compares to you?”
I don’t answer.
“I made you. You and Nate, both. My beautiful dolls. But you, Deirdre, are my finest work. No one compares. No one will evercompare.”
His belt buckle clinks as it unclasps. Leather hisses as it slides from its loops. My thighs clench, bile burning my throat.
“On your feet, my love.”
Before I can move, Julep grabs my hair and lifts me. I cry out because he expects it, because if I give him what he wants, this will be over relatively fast.
My hair stays in his fist as he uses his other arm to bundle up the tablecloth and send it and all its contents smashing to the ground. Then he shoves me violently onto the wooden surface. I turn my head to avoid a broken nose, which makes him laugh. A second later, his palm slams hard against the side of my head.
The stars clear slowly from my vision, allowing me a straight line of sight to a nearby doorway. In it stands Maggie, the angle such that I doubt Julep can see her. Probably for the best. He doesn’t like anyone seeing him out of control—and from the look on her face, she’s never seen him like this.
For long seconds, we stare at each other. Then her gaze flickers between Julep and me, and her expression twists. Envy. Fear. Sympathy. And finally rage as Julep’s touch turns eager on my body.
Murmuring in Spanish, he drags my dress over my thighs and up my back. His fingers shake as they stroke my exposed skin, tracing the map of pain he crafted.
“Dios mío, how I missed you.”
The doorway is empty.
I’m empty.
I close my eyes.
I
Am
Nothing.
