Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Three

💕Author's Note: Hey, gorgeous! Read ahead by becoming a patron at www.EmendedHearts.com/join

💗💗💗

Absolute certainty isn't guaranteed.

Not for anyone.

Never has been and most likely never will be.

That's a universal truth.

I know that.

But for me, in particular, even temporary assurance has been nothing short of a luxury, no matter how much I craved it. There are far too many variables, too many curveballs that life loves to throw in spite of the most careful planning to think anything is truly set in stone for any length of time. In fact, the only thing you know for sure is that you don't know anything for sure. That's a lesson life has beaten into me, reiterated, reminded me of over and over again for the last six years. And I wholeheartedly believe it. I've had to. There hasn't been a single moment in over half a decade that I've thought otherwise.

Until now.

They say be careful what you wish for.

I guess that's yet another lesson I'm learning the hard way, because right here, in this very moment, I'm absolutely certain of three things:

One, I've officially been trapped in hell for at least two hundred and thirteen minutes—almost four hours.

Two, I'm being punished, and said punishment entails a single task on my part: keeping my feet on two designated numbers that incidentally—and not in an amusing way—rhyme with each other: 7 and 11.

And three, I will keep my feet on the designated numbers, just as Frost said I would...unless I want to get electrocuted.

So, in spite of my disbelief and outrage that he'd go this far, that he'd be such a callous, heartless monster, that's exactly what I'm doing—even when it's costing me my sanity. Even when it's taxing every inch of my body. Even when it's robbing me of all the energy I have left. Even when it's taking all the willpower I can muster. Even though it's producing the most palpable strain I've ever felt.

Blunt metal cuts into my wrist, the curve of the cuff biting into my skin with an increasingly painful dig. The gag subdues another loud gasp as I feel a sharp cramp suddenly form in my left foot, the jarring, unpleasant sensation creeping its way up my entire leg. My eyes slam shut tightly against this latest source of my demise, my teeth sinking into the hard leather that's keeping them apart as I wince in agony, visibly trembling as I try desperately to maintain my balance in spite of the numbing discomfort, my toes on the verge of collapsing on themselves.

I look up when I hear the soft crack of the door in the distance suddenly, light pooling through the small opening, becoming wider as the door swings open...and revealing the blue-eyed monster who put me here. It disappears when he closes the door behind him, the gentle click a complete contrast to the presence it announces, dissipating in an ominous echo enhanced by the darkness.

Frost walks toward me, his stature formidable, towering and imposing as he strides effortlessly in my direction. Natural fluorescence catches his profile, revealing his deceitfully gorgeous face, the soft streaks of light bouncing off his hard, striking features and casting shadows around them, making them even more prominent.

Especially his eyes.

They reflect the moonlight in a way I can't even describe, their blue hue almost silvery, like a source of light themselves. Like the cuffs he bound me with.

But there isn't a single thing illuminating about them.

He stops just outside the circle, his large shoes inches away from my bare, severely cramped feet, eyeing me carefully.

His gaze wanders everywhere, roaming all over my body, rising and dipping to meet various parts of my nakedness slowly.

Deliberately.

But the dangerous lust in his eyes from before is now gone, replaced by a studious, almost clinical quality.

They eventually come to settle on my face, his stare unwavering for a long moment, analyzing again, assessing, as though I'm nothing more than an oversized lab rat.

I can't make sense of it, and I can't stop the massive tremor that rips through me, making me visibly shake under the weight of his gaze, but I don't care about deciphering his intentions or putting up a brave front any longer. I'm almost at my wits end. I can't take much more and I want him to see that. Need him to.

My voice sprints ahead of my brain, erupting before I can stop it, and I hear myself make a strained, muffled sound; something between a plea for compassion and a call to reason. I stare straight into eyes that terrify me to my very soul, forcing myself to look into them even though every inch of my skin catches fire under their intensity.

He leans in, bringing his face closer to mine. My chest rises and falls rapidly as he comes closer, my nipples hardening almost to the point of pain, protruding atop my breasts as if they are reaching out even as every other part of me wants to retreat. But I have to resist the urge, forcing myself to stay put, to keep my feet on the numbers, to meet his gaze even when I'm two seconds away from hyperventilating.

I try to calm down, to slow my erratic breaths, only so I don't end up accidentally blowing the whistle in the gag. I can't let all my perseverance up until this point go to waste. All the pain I've pushed through and all the discomfort I've put up with can't be for zilch.

He continues to lean forward, only his upper body mobile, his legs still in place just outside of the circle, until his nose is practically touching mine.

"It's been a few hours," he whispers, his eyes effortlessly boring into mine, their new silver quality borderline iridescent in the pale light.

It makes him look like both an angel and a serial killer.

His lips are a whisper away from mine, separated only by the gag he forced inside my mouth, his words practically bouncing off it with an almost seductive quality.

I exhale harshly, forcing my chin up to hold his stare while I pretend not to crumble under it.

"Have you learned your lesson?" he asks, his voice still low and slightly husky, definitely seductive, and a complete contrast to the clinical expression he was assessing me with just a second ago.

I nod adamantly, not a lick of hesitation in me, my head bobbing so fast you'd think the gesture was going out of style.

"Are you sure?" His nose grazes the side of my face and his lips come to settle at my ear. "Are you sure you've learned your lesson, Ramona? Sure you don't need a little more time to think things over?"

"Heeeegh!!!" I practically scream my agreement, even though the ball gag ensures that the word 'Yes' leaves me sounding like noisy gibberish, and I can't stop myself from throwing in several more profuse nods for good measure.

He inhales deeply, pressing his nose against my temple, and I realize he's smelling my hair again. It's not the first time he's done it, but the action damn near vaporizes all the bones in my body.

After the briefest of moments, he tips his head back, putting a few inches between our faces so he can look at me intently, his eyes unblinking, his stare unwavering. A small, almost boyish grin tilts his gorgeous lips, subtly lifting the side of his mouth, enhancing the mini dent in his chin.

The dangerous edge returns to his eyes, their mesmerizing hue barely veiling the wickedness coursing through them.

"You don't sound so convincing," he says evenly, but his tone is nothing short of mocking, his eyes flitting to my gagged mouth as he leans away from me.

I start huffing impulsively, panicking as I watch him retreat, clearly unfazed by my show of anguish. He looks at me squarely, the smirk still on his lips.

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Miss Gallo, but your punishment is not nearly over yet." He gestures at me with a subtle nod, as if in some sort of sarcastic acknowledgment. "The night is still young, Ramona. And so are you. Hang tight."

Nonchalant words exit sinful lips, and soul-crushing news is delivered in the most sensual voice I've ever heard, shattering any lingering illusions I had of any potential decency in this man and testing my perseverance in a way I didn't think possible.

And, just like that, he leaves again, disappearing with all traces of artificial light that preceded his entrance no more than a few minutes after he strolled in so suddenly, taking whatever strands of hope I naively held onto so far, leaving me completely clueless and even more afraid of how long it's going to be before he comes back again.

Before this generous slice of hell that's been forced onto my plate will meet its end.

And to add insult to injury, the fourth rotation of Frost's "make-shift clock" comes faster than expected...and I lose my balance again in spite of my reflexes kicking in full-force, completely miscalculating the degree of the turn and underestimating just how deeply my left foot fell asleep on me.

Bolts of electricity race up my legs as I resist inertia, forcing more screams out of me that collide into the leather ball perched in my mouth. But no one else can hear them. No one else can feel my pain. Certainly not the son of a bitch monster responsible for them.

The shockwave is unprecedented and I don't know why. It shouldn't hurt so much. It wasn't unexpected this time.

I was ready for it.

I knew it was coming.

I was certain.

Be careful what you wish for...

Sigh.

Yes. Yes, this is going to be a very hard lesson, indeed.

***

💕Author's Note: Hey, again! We'll post one chapter every Friday, but there are currently over 140 chapters, so this may take a while. If you just can't wait, you can read ahead by becoming a patron at www.EmendedHearts.com/join

Your support is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading! And don't forget to like, share and comment! Love ya :).

XOXO 😘

Eme and the hearts @EmendedHearts 💕