Want to know what happened to Alice when Julian told her to get into the prop box? Well, here you go.
Chapter Eighteen (Expanded)
I do not deserve you, Alice.
His heart would be pounding if he had one. Delicious, beautiful, wonderful girl. She knew she was in for trouble, and she walked into it with her head held high. She knew he was angry, and that he would have his pound of flesh from her.
Not in the way she might have feared, but now in the way he knew they both desired.
She had done nothing wrong. He knew it. The idiot child posed him not a single threat in the world.
Regardless, he felt the need to paint himself on her. To teach her that she was his. A reminder to both of them of the truth of it all. That inside this place, she was subject to his mercy. And what sweet mercy he wished to show her.
Invisible, but no less tangible than a living man, he pressed his palm to her shoulder, letting his fingers curl around her, squeezing. Gentle. Not forceful. He leaned in and let his breath wash over her cheek. She shivered in response where she sat upright in the prop.
He whispered to her, keeping all threats from his voice. “Tell me to stop.”
She didn’t. Another shudder overcame her at the sound of his voice, and she gripped the edges of the wood box so hard her knuckles turned white. But she said nothing. In some strange and foolish way, she trusted in him. In a delightful surprise, she wanted him.
There was no other reason why she would have climbed so willingly into the little wooden vault. He could see the color in her cheeks that yet to leave there and knew the truth of what it meant. Either in spite of, or more blissfully yet, because of her fear of him, she wanted what he could give to her.
And, oh, he wished to give so very much.
He would not take her tonight. Not yet. Not like this. This was about torment. This was about making her want him more. He would make her beg for him and cry his name. He would tease her, taunt her, and make her follow him into the shadows. He would take her into the darkness and there, in the heart of his sin, he would make them one.
I love you, Alice. And I will make you love me too.
He did not say those words to her. He did not whisper them into her ear. That would be enough to send any sensible person fleeing to the hills. And while she was an intelligent girl, her curiosity and her delectable love of feeling his control over her was overriding her common sense.
He wouldn’t argue. He was glad for this bout of careless abandon on her part. This love of the darkness, the desire to see how very far down the rabbit hole might go. Letting his lips trail over her cheek, she slipped her eyes shut. “You are in my wonderland now, beautiful Alice.”
She pulled in a hiss through her nose at his words but did not tell him to stop. She made no move to resist. With a gentle hand, he carefully urged her to lay back in the box with a press to her shoulder. She did, tentatively placing her neck into the U-shaped hole at the top of the box. He picked up the top portion that slid in place over her throat and locked it in place. It had two more holes that were meant for her hands. He watched her tremble, and struggle to stay calm. She grasped the edge of the wooden panel and held onto it. Not to remove it, but simply for the need to hold onto something.
Walking to her feet, he grasped her ankles. She jolted in surprise, but she didn’t kick or fight. One at a time, and so very slowly, he pulled her feet through the two matching U-grooves, smaller than that for her head, and secured the plate over them in a similar fashion. He took his time, for both of their sakes.
Her, to keep her from panicking. Him…because he was relishing each and every moment of this. Fastening her into one of his contraptions was a rare and sinful treat that he wanted to savor. He took the edge of the lid that he had opened and lowered it down onto her until it concealed her body. When it touched down, she jolted again, and he could tell she was shaking.
Walking up to her head, he leaned down, and let her feel his nearness before he kissed her cheek. “I won’t hurt you. I will never hurt you.” He whispered, the huskiness to his voice revealing his desire. Not that she couldn’t have guessed it already. “One word from you, and this ends.”
Still, she shivered. But said nothing.
Grinning against her skin, he kissed her cheek again and tapped his knuckles near the holes where her hands were meant to protrude out of the top. The holes were placed in such a way that she would be forced to turn her palms up to slip them through, as they were close to her shoulders. When she hesitated he knocked again, louder that time.
Wincing at the sound, she fed her hands through the holes. Picking up two large metal shackles, he clamped them around her wrists one at a time. They would keep her from pulling her hands back into the box.
She couldn’t escape now. Not without his assistance. She was trapped and at his mercy.
He let out a long, wavering breath. Gods in hell, she looked so good. He wanted to climb in the box and grind himself against her until he spent himself all over her glorious, prone, helpless body.
No.
Not yet, anyway.
He let himself appear to her then as a shadow, giving her some sense of his location. There was only so much he could ask the poor girl to suffer, after all. What she was about to see would be frightening enough without having any semblance of an idea of where he was.
She watched him with those big eyes as he picked up two long flat blades and slid them next to each other through her in the first groove, just above the knees. They passed through her without any resistance. She would have felt nothing. Not even a whisper.
He took the next two blades and slipped them through her below where her elbows were located, a bit above her navel and where her ribs began.
She jolted each time he passed the blades through her, but she made no noise. She only watched, trembling like a leaf, her eyes reflecting her fear and excitement in equal measure. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to taste her.
Walking around to stand by her head, he bent and leaned his hands on either side of the table next to her head.
He kissed her, upside down, taking her lips with his. She tasted so wonderful, like honey and lavender, and he could devour her like this. She was so warm and responsive. She kissed him back and moaned against him, belying her secret enjoyment of the moment, and he matched the noise with one of his own.
Unexpectedly, she parted her lips for him, inviting him in. He snaked his tongue, apparitional and spectral, into her warm depths, surprised at her initiative but more than a little happy for it. Alice was continuing to be a delight and a surprise.
What a naughty girl lurked in that heart of hers. And he wanted to see how far she could go.
***
The last thing in the world she should be doing was lying in a box, strapped in by a ghost hell-bent on molesting her, with her nearly ready to goddamn beg for him to do it. His power felt wild and raw, charismatic and alluring, and she was helpless to resist. She knew it made her an idiot, but she couldn’t help it.
Julian seemed to be able to find and push all her buttons like Charles. They smelled the same. They felt the same. They kissed the same. Something about Julian felt far more familiar than the fact that his nephew resembled him. But the weird similarities never quite formed into a full thought. Namely, because Julian was devouring her lips with his and she couldn’t focus on anything else.
And oh, god, what a kiss. She melted when he worked against her, greedy and worshipping, passionate and playful. He nipped his teeth against her lips, and she squirmed with how beautifully wicked it all was.
She wanted more. She needed more. She parted her lips for him, wanting to taste him, wanting him to take her.
And he was very eager to do exactly that. Taking the hint, he claimed her mouth. He was only a darkness against the world, but he tasted like spices and cloves, he felt both tangible and intangible. Once more, she couldn’t help but think that he kissed her like Charles did. But…more intense. Like the dial had turned up the volume far past ten and snapped the knob right off. She wasn’t going to complain. She moaned against his ephemeral lips and was treated to one of his in response.
But soon—too soon for her—he parted from her and she was left lying there, gasping for air. It seemed he wasn’t ready to let her go yet. She had the feeling they were only getting started. The spectral figure of Julian moved to stand at the center of the box. Pulling pins from the rolling base, he…pushed her apart into thirds.
He spun the section that contained her feet to be parallel to her head, so she could see her own shoes. She wiggled her feet.
The feet she saw wiggled.
She swallowed thickly.
There was two feet of air between that box and the one that contained the middle part of her body. And another two feet between that middle box and her upper one. She could see all three parts if she craned her head.
This was impossible. Absolutely impossible. There were no mirrors, no tricks, no secret body doubles in the table hiding away beneath the top.
Julian’s ghost was real.
And so was his magic.
It scared her more than the ghost did. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a frightened whine. “Fuck. Fuck! Shit, no, please, this isn’t—”
He kissed her. Silenced her protests entirely. He kissed her almost violently at first, then bit by bit, slowed his motions. He was bringing her heartrate back down, tempting her into following his lead, until he was feathering kisses against lips that felt swollen from his attack.
But her panic had ended. Her loss of control was over. He kissed her cheek again and again, slowly, tenderly, trying to soothe her and calm her down. He shushed her, his hand stroking her hair. Seemingly trying, in his own way, to tell her it was all going to be all right. His cheek was resting against hers, shockingly warm for a ghost that she could see through.
“Julian three…Alice zero,” she muttered to him.
She received a dark chuckle in response, and he gave her another kiss on the lips. His passion overwhelmed her, and he cradled her head in his shadowy hands as he seemingly tried to kiss the very life out of her.
Fingers trailing over her jaw and her neck made her shiver. He made it seem effortless the way he could draw her out of her fear and back into the palm of his hands. She felt him leave her and she watched as his shadow moved to pull more pins from the boxes. They weren’t done yet.
The sides and the lids folded away, falling down from the frame to reveal the contents. All that remained were the thin wood strips that created the outline of the box and the blades themselves defined the space that had been there seconds before.
She was now looking at her own body parts. Her legs. Her torso. She pulled in a gasp and jolted, and she watched as her body responded. They might be separated, but they were still hers.
He hadn’t murdered her, so there was that.
His shadowy form moved over to the center box, and placed his ghostly, transparent hand against her stomach. She felt it. Oh god, she felt it! It was like it was still there where it should be on the other side of the blades in her ribcage, but she could see it some five feet away from where it should be.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. This is so weird—this is so weird!”
He chuckled again. His fingers drew slow circles over her skin, and she whimpered at the sensation. She twitched, and he began to widen his touch, drifting a little higher, drifting a little lower. He placed both his hands on her body then, stroking her slowly. Up her legs, up her sides, then traveling down her stomach, and skirting around the place where she hoped he would touch. The part of her that was burning for him.
As sick as it was…her body was not nearly as conflicted as she was about the whole ordeal.
When she was squirming in his hands, he left her middle section and walked up to her head. She watched him, upside down, as his hands found something else to amuse himself with. The skilled digits of one of his hands trailed up over her ribcage and up over the mound of her breast. Leaning down over her, a shadowy apparition of a man, he found her nipple, already hard from his attentions, and began to twist and toy with it. He alternated between pain and soothing strokes, rolling it between his thumb and his forefinger before cupping the flesh in his hand and slowly playing with her.
Gods on high, it was going to drive her mad.
His other hand trailed his fingers over her lips.
“I know how talented you are…and I am so eager to experience the show.” His whisper was a hot breath against her ear. When she gasped, he slipped his finger into her mouth, running his pointer finger slowly along her tongue. “Go on. Give me a little…won’t you? Take pity on a lonely dead man.”
She moaned and arched her body up into his hand that still was twisting and playing with her, slowly switching sides, leisurely enjoying her. She couldn’t help it. She closed her lips around the ghastly finger in her mouth, and sucked on it slowly, rolling her tongue around the digit in shameless enjoyment.
He pressed the finger deeper to the point where a girl might gag, if, well, she had a gag reflex. Alice might not have lucked out in many places in life, but that was one of the few areas where she did. He moaned loudly, a sound that she had heard almost identically from Charles when she had done this to him that first night after she had seen him perform. He pressed his finger as far as it could go. “Yes, girl. Yes…”
He pumped his finger into her mouth, clearly wishing it were some other part of his body. If he tilted her head to the side and took her mouth right then and there, she wouldn’t tell him to stop. In fact, she rather wished he would. But after a few more moments, he pulled his finger from her and ran the damp tip of his shadowy finger against her lower lip.
He kissed her then, replacing his finger with his tongue, and she moaned against him. But it didn’t last long. Julian pulled away from her, and her head was spinning from what had happened.
She was helpless to watch as he pulled the upper portion of the prop a little closer to her middle portion. He was now standing between them with the two at right angles to each other. It let him reach both parts of her.
Oh lord.
He resumed his torment of her breasts with one hand. She felt him through her clothing as if it wasn’t there. Warm hands against sensitive skin. She moaned and arched into his grasp, as much as she could. She shut her eyes, tilting her head to the side as she tried to let herself feel what was happening and forget that she was sliced into three parts.
But it was impossible not to watch. It was so strange, so bizarre, and a little grotesque at the same time. It was morbid. It was like a car wreck, and she couldn’t look away. The hand on her stomach began to trail lower. It slipped down, and soon his fingers were exploring her core. She had to force herself not to lift her hips eagerly into his touch.
He discovered exactly how much of a sick and twisted girl she was. He let out a low growl in his throat in approval. Playing her like a piano, he worked his hands over her, until she was lying there gasping, writhing, and squirming, desperate for more.
But he went no farther. He teased her, stroking her, glancing over the parts that were begging for his attention. She didn’t know how long he could go for, but she knew it was probably all night. And tomorrow. And the night after that. He was dead. She wasn’t. She growled in frustration, and he laughed.
“Beg, pretty rabbit.”
His voice was thick, and still a whisper, but a little louder than before. His fingers never stilled but never sped, and never did that which she needed him to do. Swearing under her breath, she knew it was hopeless. Her dignity shattered. She gave in.
“Please. Please, Julian.” She clenched her hands into fists, and gasped as he finally slid a finger deep inside her. Her eyes almost rolled into her head, it felt so good. He knew where to touch her and how to do it.
He worked her, finding all the right parts, playing her like one of his goddamn instruments, and he was so very dexterous. When a second finger joined the first, she couldn’t help it anymore. She lifted her hips up toward him, wishing she could spread her legs wider, wishing he would fill her with something else.
It was only a few strokes of those long, powerful fingers inside of her before she came undone. She cried out as she did. Her back arched and her head threw back as far as it could go as she wailed. “Julian—” Pleasure washed over her like a wave, and she gasped as she tossed in the restraints, unable to lay still.
He moaned loudly, as if he too were overcome with pleasure. When she stilled, she was breathless, gasping, unable to even think straight. God on high, she had seen stars. “Julian four, Alice zero.”
A dusky laugh was a treat to hear, sounding both sinister and tender, both frustrated and satisfied in the same moment. The shadow moved to kiss her again, slipping his tongue into her mouth without waiting for permission, devouring her in the same passionate, needy, possessive fashion.
God damn her if she didn’t wish he wouldn’t stop. But eventually he did, and the shadow clicked the wooden panels back around the boxes, hiding her severed parts from view. He went through the steps in reverse, pushing the pieces of her back together and locking the table together. The blades were lifted out from her, and he undid the restraints on her ankles.
Then her wrists were freed next. She instantly ran her hands down her body. Besides being a little…um…yeah…she was fine. She could feel everything where it should be. Nothing seemed out of place. Fiddled with, but intact.
He lifted the bracket over her throat, and she watched as he vanished from view in that moment. She pushed the lid open on her own and climbed out slowly, her legs trembling like jelly. She leaned against the table for a long time, trying to steady herself.
Hot breath washed against her ear, and she shivered.
Alice hadn’t known what to expect from Julian as she had climbed into the box. But what she had received proved a few simple things to her in quick order. He was devious. He was wicked. He had real magic. And he was very, very good with his hands.
She had also learned a great deal about herself. Namely, that being at his mercy had brought her to strange and terrible new heights. It had felt like nothing she had ever experienced before, and he hadn’t even done much more than simply touch her.
And he had done all of it through her clothing, no less.
When she climbed out of the box, she did so on shaking legs. She panted for air and tried to straighten out her clothing. But Julian didn’t seem to be done with her yet. She felt his hot breath by her ear.
“Come to my bedroom.”