Chapter 8
ROSALIE
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The faint morning light filtered through the curtains as I blinked my eyes open, the hazy remnants of last night’s memory flooding back. My throat still felt raw, my mouth bitter with the taste of pepper that lingered like a cruel reminder of Damien’s relentless control. I shifted slightly, only to realize there was an arm wrapped tightly around me.
Damien.
He lay beside me, his face peaceful in sleep, his strong arm holding me close as if he were afraid I’d vanish if he let go. My heart raced, a mixture of anger and confusion bubbling up as I recalled the way he’d forced me to eat that pepper–laden meal, pushing me to the point of passing out.
As if sensing my gaze, his eyes opened, sharp and alert, fixing on mine. For a brief moment, a softness touched his face, one I rarely saw.
“Morning, Rosebud,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep. His hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from my cheek. “How are you feeling?”
I wanted to scream, to ask him how he could even think I’d be okay after what he did, but I held my tongue. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he’d shaken me. Instead, I narrowed my eyes, letting silence convey what words couldn’t.
His gaze darkened as he seemed to take in my anger, but he didn’t let me go. If anything, his hold tightened, his arm wrapping around my waist possessively. “You’re still mad, I see,” he said, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. “You’ll get over it. You always do. Just like in highschool”
I felt
my
fists clench under the sheets. “I don’t always ‘get over it,’ Damien. I just… I don’t have a choice.” I shifted slightly, trying to slip out of his grasp. “I need to get up. I have things to do today.”
He frowned, his hand trailing down my arm, catching my wrist. “What do you need to do today?” His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a hint of steel beneath the surface.
I didn’t answer, pulling my arm from his grasp as I tried to move away. But he was faster, grabbing me by the wrist and yanking me back toward him again, his eyes dark with frustration. The gentleness from earlier had vanished, replaced by a look of intensity that I knew all too well.
“Rosebud,” he said, his voice low, “I asked you a question.” His hand tightened around my wrist, his grip firm, leaving no room for defiance.
“I… can’t stand being here atleast for now,” I said, swallowing hard, trying to keep my voice steady. My heart was pounding, and I could feel his possessiveness pressing down on me like a weight.
“Where are you going, Rosalie?” His tone was colder now, his gaze fixed on me, refusing to let me evade his question
I paused, glancing away from him. “I just… need to get out of the house. Clear my head, I’m not running away. I would be back,” I mumbled, trying to ignore the way my skin prickled under his stare.
Damien’s hand moved to my shoulder, pulling me back toward him. “What do you mean, ‘get out of the house? I won’t repeat myself Rosalie so don’t push me.” His tone was firmer, his possessive nature beginning to surface.
The truth was, I actually didn’t know where to go but anywhere was heaven as long as I was far away from this nightmare.
“I don’t need to tell you my every move, Damien. Can you just stop this possessiveness?” I said, my voice defiant despite the
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nervous flutter in my stomach. I tried to sit up, but his grip tightened, his fingers curling around the back of my neck. His face was inches from mine, his gaze piercing as he held me there.
My breath hitched as his hand gripped my neck, his thumb grazing my skin in a gesture that was as controlling as it was oddly intimate. I could feel my pulse racing beneath his touch, my mind spinning with a mixture of fear and anger.
“I am your husband and I demand to know your every move.” His voice was low, a warning hidden beneath the calmness. “I told you, Rosebud, I want to know where you’re going and why. Don’t push me.”
I swallowed, my throat still raw, and took a shaky breath. “I just… I need to go to the hospital,” I whispered, thinking fast and trying to keep my voice steady. “I don’t feel right after… last night.”
His grip loosened slightly, and his thumb brushed over my jaw, his gaze softening–just barely. He held my gaze, a strange mixture of emotions flickering in his eyes, as if he was almost… regretful. But that softness was fleeting.
“The hospital,” he echoed, his voice quieter now. He leaned forward, pressing a firm kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled back, his hand moving to caress my neck, thumb brushing gently over my skin. “I’ll take you I won’t have you going anywhere alone.”
“Damien, I don’t need you to-”
“Rosebud,” he interrupted, his voice low and authoritative. “You don’t get a say in this. I’m coming with you.” His hand moved from my neck, fingers grazing down to my shoulder before he finally released me, though his eyes remained fixed on mine.
I sat up, trying to calm my racing heart. It didn’t matter what I said; Damien had already made up his mind. There was no point in arguing with him.
As I sat on the hospital bed, the doctor leaned in, his hands gentle as he examined me. He shone a small light in my eyes, watching my reactions.
“Does this hurt at all?” he asked, his tone soft, professional.
I shook my head, offering a small smile. “No, it’s fine. Just a little sore.”
“Good. And here?” He lightly pressed along my arm and then to my neck, checking for any signs of injury.
“No, that’s alright too,” I replied, a bit shy but grateful for his kindness. The calmness in his voice helped settle the nerves that had been rattling since everything with Damien began.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Damien standing in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw clenched. His stare was fixed on the doctor’s hands, his gaze darkening with each gentle touch. I could feel his presence like a storm building in the room, and I tried to ignore it, keeping my focus on the doctor’s questions.
“Well, you seem to be in decent shape,” the doctor said, smiling.
“Thank you,” I murmured, offering another small smile, trying to ease the tension I felt brewing nearby.
As the doctor patted my shoulder lightly and turned to leave, I heard Damien’s voice, a barely controlled growl. “We’re done here,” he said, a forced politeness in his tone as he shot a glare at the doctor.
Once we were outside in the parking lot, the air grew thick with tension. Damien grabbed my arm and, before I could react, he had me backed up against the car, his eyes blazing with anger.
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Chapter 8
“What was that, Rosalie?” he hissed, his grip tightening on my arm.
I tried to pull away, but his hold was firm. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play innocent with me. Letting him touch you like that, and smiling at him?” His face was inches from mine, the anger radiating off him in waves. “You looked like you were enjoying it.”
“He was just doing his job, Damien,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’re overreacting.”
“Oh, am I?” His jaw clenched, and his voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “So it was just his job for you to smile at everything he said, like he was your personal entertainment?”
I took a shaky breath, trying to stand my ground. “I was just being polite! It’s not what you’re making it out to be.”
He narrowed his eyes, his anger only growing. “Polite? That’s what you call it?” His voice dripped with jealousy. “I saw the way you looked at him, laughing at his questions. Did you like the way he was touching you?”
“Damien, stop it!” I whispered fiercely. “This is insane. He was helping me–nothing more.”
His eyes darkened further, his voice low and possessive. “Let me make one thing clear, Rosalie. You’re mine. Present and future. No one else touches you like that. No one.”
I opened my mouth to argue, to protest, but he cut me off, grabbing my shoulder to keep me close. “The sooner you get used to that idea, the better it’ll be for you.”
Then, in one swift motion, he yanked open the car door and pointed inside, his gaze unyielding. “Get in. Now.”
I hesitated, feeling anger rising in my chest, but his eyes told me he wasn’t about to let this go. With a resigned exhale, I climbed into the car, feeling his intense presence looming as he shut the door behind me.
The drive home was suffocating, the silence between us filled with unspoken fury. Damien’s grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles turned white, the tension radiating off him like a living thing. I sat as far as I could on my side of the car, staring out the window, my heart pounding in my chest. Every second felt like a countdown to something worse.
When we pulled into the driveway, I barely had time to react before Damien flung his door open and marched around to my side. He yanked my door open with a violent jerk, and before I could scramble away, his hand clamped around my wrist like a vice.
“Out,” he snarled.
“Damien, please-“I pleaded, my voice trembling.
His response was a sharp tug, dragging me out of the car with a force that made me stumble. I tried to twist my wrist free, but his grip only tightened.
“You like men touching you, don’t you?” he spat, his voice venomous. “Did you like it when the doctor had his hands on you?”
I shook my head frantically, tears pricking at my eyes. “No! He was just doing his job, Damien! Let me go!”
“Doing his job,” he repeated mockingly, dragging me toward the house. “Is that what you tell yourself? That it’s innocent? You think I’m stupid?”
I struggled, planting my feet against the gravel, but it was useless. He was stronger, his rage giving him a terrifying strength. “Please, Damien, you’re hurting me!”
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Chapter 8
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“You don’t know what hurt is,” he hissed, yanking me through the front door and slamming it behind us. The sound echoed through the empty hall, making the house feel even colder, more oppressive. His footsteps were thunderous, each one vibrating through my chest as he hauled me down the corridor.
“Damien, stop!” I begged, tears streaming down my face. “Please, you’re scaring me!”
“Good,” he snapped. “Maybe you need to be scared.”
