Fear the Wicked (Illusions Series Book 2)(34)

Flashing a snide grin, he schooled his expression before saying goodbye to Gentry and leaving.

"Eve," Gentry said as I approached, "Is she the woman from last night?"

"She is."

"Is she still-?" His voice trailed off before he could finish the thought.

Crossing the room without answering, I flattened my palm against the cool wood of the door leading to where she was being kept. By now, the poor girl was most likely writhing over the floor. Lack of stimulation, light, sound, touch...in her state, it would have driven her close to the brink of temporary insanity.

Drugs are such a wonderful thing.

Twisting to glance over my shoulder at the man who would unknowingly hand me the small town on a silver platter, I forced a frown over my lips, carefully keeping my voice morose on the subject of Eve.

"It will take time with her. She's not as far gone as the man you-"

I allowed my words to die before completing that thought, my expression to wrinkle with regret and horror. "She's not as bad as him, so you have no need for concern."

The crimson tint to his complexion was draining away, his once wide eyes going back to normal. The effects of what I'd given him were deteriorating now that the spike in adrenaline was calming.

"I'm sorry, Father Hayle. I know you didn't want the man killed." His expression dropped, guilt now rolling behind his focused gaze. I would eventually use that guilt to my advantage. But for now, I'd offer sympathy.

"I think you may have been right to do what you did, Gentry. Perhaps I'm the one who needs to realize when a person's life is to dire to save."

He smiled, seemingly appeased by my hesitant agreement.

"We should keep going. It's getting late and you have a long drive ahead of you."

Opening the door, I flipped on the light, the illumination flooding the room and highlighting the small woman seated in a single chair positioned in the center of the small space. Her long brown hair was disheveled, her green eyes piercing when they finally opened and flicked to mine. Like Gentry, the pupils were large, two black pools reflecting my image back to me.

I wasn't sure what it was about her particular features that drew me to her, that reached out and called to me with the pull of something familiar. In many ways I loved her more deeply than I'd loved any other - but that emotion was cut through with hatred and deep-seated anger.

It irritated me when she wouldn't shut up - and I loathed her when she was so quiet that she wouldn't speak out against anything.

Why did her silence affect me more? Why did her quiet acceptance of an abusive hand make me want to strangle the life from her body?

I wanted to possess her and cast her aside, protect her and punish her just the same. My power over her was a power over something buried in my past, something I knew subconsciously, but couldn't bring to the surface.

The only thing I could state with utter certainty was that now that she'd been used for the purpose of chasing off my brother, no man besides me would ever touch her again.

Eve trembled against her seat, her teeth chattering and clacking together, her breath still a hissed whisper over her lips. Glancing down at her hands, I saw them clenched at the sides of her seat, letting go only to rub over the skirt covering her thighs.

Opening her mouth as if to speak, she lost her voice to see Gentry walk in beside me. Fear shot through the green of her eyes, confusion and need dancing in to become a toxic combination.

"She looks normal to me," Gentry commented as he stepped closer.

I didn't bother looking at him, my eyes locked on a woman that stole the breath from my lungs. She was so thoroughly compliant, so perfectly created for a man like me. I guess that was only fitting considering I was the God who designed her.

"Come here, Eve. I'd like to introduce you to a friend of the family."

Pushing to her feet, her gait was uncoordinated and off balance, but she eventually found her way over, stopping within feet of where we stood watching.

Gentry looked over the tiny woman, his gaze focused and attentive, his throat working visibly as he studied her behavior and mannerisms that would appear normal to the naked eye - but odd once closely seen.

"Why is she breathing like that?"

Clasping my hands behind my back, I shook my head. "I'm unsure. It's better than it was when she first came to us. The treatment has been working."

"Like what I witnessed last night? The whipping?"

"It's a part of it, yes. The punishment. But what I'm finding with this particular problem is that no matter what I do, no matter who I introduce to her, she's oversexualized, ready and willing if you know what I mean."

His eyes snapped to her again, and if I weren't mistaken, Gentry was considering what she would be willing to do for him.

"Let's test my theory, shall we?"

He nodded his head, swallowing deep again. His eyes were unblinking, his body tense.

"Take off your clothes, Eve," I instructed.

She didn't hesitate to unbutton the dress she wore, didn't care who stood in the room watching. A grin slid across her full lips promising everything I could want and more.

The dress slid from her shoulders, lower until it was a pool of cloth at her feet.

Stepping forward, I was careful not to touch her skin with my body, careful not to give any indication that she would do this for no other man but me. "Do you feel no shame for being naked in front of a stranger? Doesn't it bother you that a man looks at you with lust in his eyes?"