I am an exhibit.
Something in which Levi only observes for the next few days. He doesn't touch me. Barely acknowledges me, but I can sense his eyes on me whenever we're in the same room.
After he washed me in the bath two days ago, and relinquished the fact he was the cause of an untimely demise for the one he once loved, he's been... distant.
It should calm me, but it doesn't. The anticipation of his behavior completely rattles me the longer I wait for him to lose control.
The evening comes, and I’m startled by his presence in the library. It’s a cozy room, with bookshelves lining one side of the walls, a small sectional with throw blankets that I find myself curling up on.
I find solace in here.... but only because Levi allows it.
When my eyes land on him, they slowly roam over his face. The hardened expression, his eyes which are dark and brooding, and unapologetic; his nose which is slightly crooked as if it’s been broken; his lips which are slightly downward as if he’s disappointed in what lay before his eyes. Me. I am everything he’d hoped I wasn’t.
He summons me with a wave of his hand. I don’t move right away. He sees that as a challenge and steps forward, causing me to scramble out of my seat.
“Y-yes, Sir,” my voice quivers as I address him. He runs a hand down over his face, eyes me wordlessly, before he flexes his fingers and balls his hands into fists.
“Dinner.”
It’s one word. He barks it before spinning around on his heel and stalking out of the room. In the time I’ve been here, the half a week I’ve called this my home, he has never once asked me to accompany him for dinner. Food has always been served to my bedroom.
What does this mean?
I’m apprehensive as I will my feet to follow. My heart beat begins to increase steadily with each step. I find myself stroking the one of three dresses he’s provided me with. Three dresses earned for the three days I’ve been here. Just as Levi explained earlier, nothing here is free. It is all earned.
I am not a princess being pampered. I am a servant.
My place here is earned.
I make my way toward the dining room slowly, as if a few more moments of time would prepare me for dinner with the devil.
He’s sitting at the table when I enter, a drink in his hand, already practically gone. He takes another swig, and the ice cubes in the glass clink as he sets it down.
He nods to the seat across from him.
“Sit,” he commands. I obey, pulling out the chair and sliding into the seat. The irony of how we must look dawns on me and I find myself snickering. A man and a woman dining, as if everything’s normal in the world, but what the world can’t see is the invisible shackles leading from me to him.
I know I shouldn’t speak. Make things easier on myself and eat dinner without saying a word, but once again my naive curiosity gets the best of me.
“What made you want me to accompany you to dinner tonight?” I question, eyes moving along the plate of meat, and roasted veggies. The smell is inviting, the watchful eyes of my dinner companion is the opposite.
He taps his glass and out scurries someone - a server - from the kitchen who tops off his drink.
I believe he’ll ignore me.. just as he has these past few days. I begin eating, trying to relax in the awkward silence that stretches around the room and threatens to strangle me beneath its weight. When he speaks I almost believe I’ve dreamed it.
“I have been thinking,” he begins, taking another generous swig of his beverage before a teasing smile plays on one side of his mouth.
“About?” I ask, but his joking tone makes my leg bounce anxiously beneath the table. Any humor from this man warrants caution. He lets out a deep breath, and sucks his teeth.
“About returning you,” he replies. He says those words simply. Like I’m a belt that doesn’t fit. Like he needs to go get something more suitable.
It’s ludicrous.
The realization that he doesn’t want me is like a slap across my face, except the sting goes deeper than my skin. It seeps into my veins and nerves and makes shit go haywire.
“Why?” I ask, frowning as I avert my gaze down to my plate, too hurt to continue to meet his displeased stare.
“Oh, does that disappoint you?” He questions mockingly. “Does it disappoint you to think even I wouldn’t want to fuck you?”
I pretend the veggies are interesting and keep my glossy eyes trained on them, but it only angers him more.
“Fucking look at me!” He screams, it shakes the room, awakening whatever lurks within the walls of this place.
Slowly, I lift my gaze, blinking rapidly to dispel the teary eyed look I know I’m sporting. Levi looks at me with no remorse as he cocks his head sideways and widens his eyes jeeringly.
“What changed your mind?”
He laughs and slams his drink down, liquor sloshing out of the glass before he takes another sip. I’m convinced he’s drunk. It makes me feel much worse. I’ve never witnessed a drunk Levi. He could be more dangerous than the sober one.
“What changed my mind?” He repeats my question, like he can’t believe it isn’t obvious. I guess I’m just trying to avoid this conversation. I know it’s headed in a direction I don’t want it to..
I hate to say I became familiar and comforted by the routine we’ve managed the past few days.
“I am not interested in you.”
“Not interested in me?” I whisper those words, devastated by the disgust I’ve just heard in them.
“I don’t want you anymore.”
“Why not?” I press, anger making my words quiver. “What could possibly be wrong with me?”
All my life I’ve been compared to my sister and deemed the unsuitable one. Even after death, I still am nothing.
“Ah, the first time I’ve truly seen you hurt,” he comments. “It’s refreshing.”
Refreshing? He’s a lunatic.
You shove your plate away, a look of disgust on your face.
“Y-you haven’t touched me in days.... if this is about what I’m willing to do, you don’t even know yourself.”
Levi finds that interesting. He taps his chin and bites his bottom lip.
“I haven’t touched you.....”
“No, you haven’t,” I state firmly and cross my arms over my chest. “I’ve... been waiting.”
I lean back in my chair and take a deep breath. Amusement flashes in his eyes.
“Oh? And just how bad has this waiting been?” His eyes flicker to my breasts. My nipples are hard and obvious through the front of the dress.
He’s testing me. Goading to prove myself, but I’m too unnerved beneath his gaze.
“I don’t know...”
He rolls his eyes and I place my hands flat on the table.
“I think about it.... all the time.”
It’s not a total lie, I’m just leaving out the part where it scares me... but only because he is unpredictable.
“Do you dream about it?”
I feel my cheeks heating. I should answer him with the truth, and tell him how I’ve only dreamt of one thing for the past year, the fiery death of my sister, but I don’t. Not yet.
“Maybe,” I reply, before taking a deep breath. Levi seems satisfied by this answer. He takes another drink from his glass and his expression softens.
“Do you want to know what I dream about?”
By the playful expression on his face, I sincerely doubt I want to know what he dreams about, but I know I have no choice.
“Sure.”
I whisper my response.
He chuckles before setting down his glass, placing his elbows on the table and leaning forward to rest his head in his hands.
“I dream about dinner time.... when I’m nice and hungry,” he says as he swipes his thumb along his bottom lip and his eyes become hooded with desire. “And you’ve climbed onto the table, with your thighs spread and your pussy dripping onto my plate, right where I fucking want it so I can eat.”
I’m stunned. Completely rattled by what he’s just said. When his gaze flickers from me to his plate, I shudder now noticing he has no food on it.
“You want to stay, Sasha?”
He smirks. It makes him appear dangerously gorgeous.
“Let me fucking eat.”
He waits for my response, waits for me to haul ass out of the dining room. I press my hands against the table to push my chair away and run out of there. I shove it back, stand, with a worried expression and furrowed brows.
I begin walking, commanding my legs not to stop, but when I near him, they do, and I climb onto the table.