Chapter 17

When Damien turned to his computer, scrolling through his playlists to find a suitable song for such an occasion, Belle noted the pair of handcuffs hooked onto the back of his belt.

'Is he kinky or is it all for show?' she wondered.

Seeing his expression when he turned back to her, Belle guessed she was going to find out.

He actually licked his lips as he stared down at her.

"You know, I've thought a lot about what I'd like to do to you, but now I have the opportunity, I just..." Damien sighed. "I just don't know."

As the music began to play, Belle recognized the song. 

"Sellouts by Breathe California," she said. "This is like their only decent song, but it's really good."

Damien's eyes narrowed as he nodded in agreement.

"I mean, David Schmitt is cute and all but Danny Worsnop sure can sing," she added.

"I know what you're doing." Damien chuckled. "Talking to me like a human being."

"You are a human being," Belle whispered. At least... she assumed he was.

"No, I mean you're trying to make me see you as a human being so it will be more difficult to hurt you." Damien sighed. "It's a neat psychological trick but it won't work on me."

Belle hadn't been trying to trick him. Not on purpose. She only wanted to find some common ground. A shared interest they could discuss. Something other than his hatred for her.

"You look a little like him... David Schmitt, that is. Same hair and—"

"Flattery won't work either," he interrupted. "If you want to remain here, you will entertain me."

The dark mass of swirling fog over her brain was beginning to clear, settling to a light mist the longer she remained in his company. As memories of work, her friends and random gigs and parties flooded her brain, the difference became more noticeable. Her memories were sludge outside of his presence. Was that the cause of her deep pain? Not guilt, as she had first assumed, but the inability to think. To imagine. To dream. To remember.

What is the feeling? The abject emptiness?

'This could be a mental breakdown,' she considered. 'Some temporary insanity.'

Looking around the room at his symbols, books, and candles, she considered the other possibility. Could witchcraft seriously be responsible? Damien seemed to think so.

"Did you really curse me?" she asked.

"What?" Damien asked. "Are you starting to think you might just be going mad? Because Grace thought that too. She's not doing too well in the mental hospital."

'Who the heck is Grace?' Belle wondered.

"She wasn't my chosen victim, so it's nothing to do with me," Damien went on. "Don't worry. You're the only one I wanted to get revenge on."

"What are you going to do to me?" Belle asked.

Damien curled up his lip, looking at her like she was the most stupid person alive, which was debatable, considering a woman had just been in the news for using gorilla glue as hair gel.

"This is your punishment," he said. "You will feel despair when away from me, and I'll only let you stay with me as long as you obey my every command to my liking."

"Despair," Belle muttered. 

It was the word she'd been searching for.

Belle chewed on one of her perfectly polished black gel nails. She'd hoped the manicure would ease her need to nibble, but perhaps this wasn't the week for breaking habits. Any comfort would do.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, blinking as she looked up, making big eyes at her tormentor.

“I haven’t even decided if I’m going to let you stay here yet. I’m still convinced I should always throw you out and see how well you fare left to your own devices,” he muttered and laughed quietly to himself. “That might be funny.”

‘Funny?’ she thought. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

Looking into his eyes, she saw no warmth or feeling of any description. No compassion or kindness. His deep blue eyes lit up like gas fires as he stared back at her, reveling in her pain.

‘I made an enemy of the wrong person,’ she thought, finally understanding the gravity of the situation.

"Please, Damien,” Belle begged, knitting her fingers together. “The way I treated you was wrong but this… whatever this is… despair… it’s the worst thing I’ve ever felt. I don’t think I’ll survive. Please let me stay here. Please.”

He let out a long sigh and stared at her, narrowing his eyes. "I guess you can stay as long as my parents don't find out. I've never had a girl stay over before."

The way he worded it—as though this was a date. Was he insane?

"You just want to have sex with me, don't you?" he asked.

When she looked up at him and saw his grin, she understood he was joking. She forced her lips to stretch into a return smile.

Anything to appease him.