Chapter 60: Chapter 60: STRIP FOR ME

VALORIA WILDEROSE

“L–Let me go.” I push against his chest, barely budging him an inch.

He laughs in my face, ignoring my obvious panic but eventually pulling his face away from mine.

“And why would I miss out on the perfect opportunity to watch your agony up close?” he questions, mocking the logic in my plea.

I reach for the door again, only to remember it’s locked—not by key, obviously. I’m trapped here, whether I like it or not.

“That was a very interesting dinner, wasn’t it?” he starts off the conversation I’ve been dreading so much.

One of the reasons I didn’t want to admit why I stayed away. I didn’t want to face him — or know what he thought about it.

“Stop.”

“You have a very interesting family, with very intriguing personalities,” he prods further, ignoring my words.

“P–Please stop,” I plead, feeling the walls around me closing in, reliving that moment again in the most torturous way possible—from his perspective.

“And your shifting—”

“Azrael, please!” I explode suddenly, raising my voice louder than I intend to.

I don’t want to hear it—not from him. Not another description of my foolishness from him. I know I can’t take that, especially right now, on the brink of another mental breakdown.

I know I’m insane for yelling, for daring to raise my voice at a man so terrifying.

I know that I might regret it soon enough, but I can’t help it—the tears gathering in my eyes, my shaking hands, the overwhelming feeling of self-hatred pouring out of me.

“I’ll stay… I’ll be silent. Just please… anything but that. You can torment me however you want after. I won’t walk away, neither will I stop you,” I plead, sniffling like a fool.

“Why should I listen to you?” he cuts me off, his voice dropping dangerously low.

No more jokes. No more games. Just pure business.

“I’m the devil, remember? I don’t care if you beg or cry—or if it’s too horrible for you to bear. I’m evil incarnate, Valoria. You sold your soul to more pain and agony than you’ve ever experienced the moment you agreed to work for Selene against me.”

“Fine. Do your worst. There’s nothing you can do to me now that will make it worse. There’s not much pain you can offer me. I’m already shattered and broken. There’s nothing left for you to destroy!”

“That’s not true.”

He speaks again with less anger, his voice too calm for me to understand what he means, even though it should be obvious.

Suddenly, rather than tormenting me, he pulls away—retreating from a fight he was guaranteed to win, for no reason.

I watch him with confusion until he settles down on the bed, facing me.

“Strip.” He commands with a single word.

I knew it was too good to be true.

Suddenly, I’m more conscious of the fact that it’s just him and me in this room—for a reason other than fear. I recall the things we’ve done together, and the things we’ve tried to do—the thought alone steals the breath from my lungs.

“Are we really doing this now?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I want nothing to do with your body.” He scoffs, the words stabbing deeper than he knows.

Ouch.

“Strip.”

I hesitate for a moment, but I don’t have much of a choice. He could easily snap me in two if he wanted, and I remain his pet—waiting until I’ve grown boring before he kills me.

Slowly, I take off layer after layer of clothing, like I’ve always done in front of him. Despite that, my body refuses to get used to that steady, burning gaze of his that traces over every inch of me.

Goosebumps rise on my skin the second the cold air hits. My nipples harden the longer he stares silently.

I wait for him to say something, but he continues staring quietly until he’s on his feet again, slowly stalking closer to me with eyes that seem ravenous and distant.

I know what disgust looks like in his eyes—and it’s nothing like what stares back at me now.

“Azra—” I start, suddenly scared that he might try to take me again today, but he cuts me off, walking past me.

“There’s a hot bath running already. Use it,” he says curtly, walking toward the door and stepping out in his towel.

Before I can say anything else, the door slams shut behind him.

I stand there, naked and confused, staring at the door like it might offer some explanation.

What just happened?

He had me cornered. Vulnerable. Stripped bare in every sense of the word. And instead of tormenting me, he… prepared a bath?

I don’t understand him. I don’t think I ever will.

I didn’t expect him to leave, especially after insisting that I stay and be tormented by him. I don’t question it either.

With him gone, I can finally relax my shoulders, moving toward the bathroom where the warm bath is actually waiting for me—fully prepared, just like he said, with soap and shampoo.

Everything I need to wash the rancid stench off of me.

The water is the perfect temperature—hot enough to sting, but not enough to burn. I sink into it slowly, letting the warmth seep into my aching muscles, into my exhausted bones.

For a moment, I let myself forget where I am. Who I’m with. What happened tonight.

I proceed to do a proper wash from head to toe, one that leaves me completely refreshed and somewhat in a good mood again.

By the time I’m done, my skin is flushed pink and my mind is quieter than it’s been in hours. The rancid smell is gone, replaced by something clean and floral.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I realize he’s back again—this time silently sitting on one end of the bed, in shorts only, as usual.

His presence feels barely as awkward or terrifying as the first time I’d walked in on him.

Maybe it’s the warm bath.

Or maybe it’s the strange, inexplicable thing he did tonight—something that almost resembled kindness, even if I know better than to call it that.

I don’t thank him. I wouldn’t know how to, even if I wanted to.

Instead, I stand there in the towel I found hanging by the tub, unsure of what comes next.

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