The Façade Ch. 04

Authors note: Thank you all so much for advice and compliments! The hot parts are a little down the road... So enjoy!

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It was the smell of food that woke me from my restless slumber. The room I was in was lighter. I rolled over and was astonished to find myself in a living room conjoined with a kitchen. I was lying on a gray leather couch that looked rather expensive. I blinked at the light of the window beside me and noted that they were barred.

My eyes took in the man in the kitchen who was cooking bacon, and I jerked upright. I stared with wide eyes, surprised he had enough humanity in him to use a stove. That was a silly thought.

"Good morning." He told me, as he turned the stove off and grabbed a plate. He came over by me, as I flinched each time his boots encountered the wood floor. He sat a plate on the table right in front of my nose. My stomach growled, but the previous encounters of last night flooded through my awareness, and I immediately lost my appetite.

He frowned at me; I could tell by the way his lips turned down at the sides. I stared up at him, wide eyed, waiting for all of this to make sense. I actually had to crane my neck to look up at him; he must be seven feet tall. I was probably the size of one of his arms, me being roughly one hundred pounds and him being a few hundred. He was pure muscle.

He could probably throw a normal full sized man around like a rag doll, but with me, he probably had to force himself to be extra careful. I am only twenty-two years old and I look like a twelve year old, except for my curves and breast.

"Is 'good morning?' a normal thing to say to somebody when they wake up?" He asked me, sitting down in a large chair. I stared at him, swallowing.

I nodded, looking at the food again. I was hungry again, and I was trying not to think about what I had witnessed yesterday. I could feel myself starting to lock up, staring into open space. The pictures flew through my mind like flashes of light.

I heard a sigh and a hand waving in front of my face. There was light in my left eye, then my right. I must have stayed like that for a while...

Time then came around, and I found myself staring into a mask. I blinked and looked around me, shooting my glance around the living room. The food was still there, but wasn't hot and steaming. I shuddered because he was so close to me.

"What happened?" I asked, eyeing the kitchen. Every drawer had a lock on it. So there was no way for me to grab a knife. Even if I had a weapon, it wouldn't do any good given his size.

"Either shock or a minor seizure." He muttered, his voice like velvet. He was staring at me intently, the way that made my muscles tighten.

He leaned in closer, to the point to where I could smell his sweet breath. I couldn't move or couldn't think when he was so close to me. I started to think about how my resistance against him could push him away, and make him want to rid me if I did not comply with any of his wishes. Would he kill me if I kept being in fear of his very presence?

He groaned, leaning forward to put his fingers on my lips. His breath picked up as he trailed a finger down the side of my neck. It made me shudder. The feather-light sensation coming from a giant baffled me completely. I shook my head back and fourth, trying to lean back and away from him.

"I will not hurt you." He told me again, running his fingers through my wiry and curly hair. Fear settled at the bottom of my stomach like acid. Some unknown response deep inside of my soul told me to instinctively lean forward, to get closer. But my natural revulsion against him kept me from doing so.

I saw him tense and lean forward, bringing the side of his face to my neck, and inhaling. He brushed my hair over to my right shoulder. I felt his nose skim up my neck, and couldn't control the shiver that went right through my body. My skin flushed a deep red, and I tried to push away from this monster. I felt tears slide down my body when his hands slid down my arms and to my hips. I didn't scream or fight, but for some reason, I leaned forward.

He pressed his hand against my chest, almost as if to keep me away. I stared at him questioningly for a very long moment, not sure what to do. He seemed to be very confused over something. Then, almost like a flick of a switch, he leaned forward, and pressed his lips to mine.

I was panting when his lips were on mine. A mixture of uncertainty and fear made me pull away, but he took his large hands and held my head firmly in place. I felt a tongue flick out to slide along my lower lip, and I responded with an opening of my own lips, letting his tongue work inside of my mouth, as if some instinct took over my body. His kiss deepened, throwing me into a physical abyss that left me thinking of his lips, and not of what he was. The ruthless, evil, and heartless Masked Man was kissing me. Actually kissing me as if he had a heart.

I had my hands on his large chest, grabbing his shirt and bringing him closer. I might as well follow the other woman's idea. Give him a reason to keep you alive. So I did.

I leaned forward, mimicking passion, unsure of myself. I had never kissed a man before. I was still a virgin. It scared me to feel moisture between my legs. It was an alien feeling, and it disgusted me that it was in response to him.

Suddenly, he pulled away. I looked up at him and then cringed on the couch, utterly terrified in the expression on his face. It was furious and revolted. I screamed and cried as he reached out a massive arm and grabbed me by the shirt, lifting me up. He twisted in his huge hands and snarled in my face.

"Do not play with me!" He yelled. He shook me and I rattled like a leaf.

"You promised!" I said, crying. "Don't hurt me!"

"Do not fake anything." He said a little calmer, his rage fizzing out like a candle in the wind. "I want you to love me. I want you not to be afraid. Do not lie to me."

"I'm sorry!" I blubbered, feeling the stupid tears roll down my face.

He paused and let go. I fell to the ground in front of the table, sobbing and crying. I had a moments worth of embarrassment, knowing that he could see through me so easily. I wiped my tears off and lifted my chin to show that I was not afraid. I had made a mistake and I was never going to do it again.

He was still and calm for a long moment, with two fingers on his temples, as if trying to get rid of a great headache. He gritted his teeth and walked back and fourth across the living room floor.

"It took just about everything inside of me not to twist your neck." He told me, stopping in the center of the room and gave me a look. "I apologize, I did not mean that."

"You're angry." I said. Of course he was. It was an extremely dangerous emotion for him to be in, considering he is extremely bipolar and has a bad temper. He lives for violence, and he takes it out on other people.

"Angrier with myself, I believe." He said, and then without another word, he left the room.