Chapter 217: The Angry Whip Marks

Words : 1199 Updated : Sep 29th, 2025

Evaline: I curled my fingers tighter around the front of his shirt, gripping it with silent desperation. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want this moment to end. My heart was racing, but I didn’t feel nervous. I felt seen, wanted... safe. And for once, I didn’t want to pretend otherwise. He must have felt the unspoken plea in my grip because he smiled again, that warm and devilish smile of his. Then he leaned forward to kiss me once more. I melted against him without hesitation, my lips parting for his as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He kissed me with slow intensity, like he had all the time in the world to enjoy the taste of me. By the time he pulled away, my knees were weak and my breath hitched in my throat. And yet, as he looked at me again, a frown took over his face. "You are going to get sick," he muttered as his fingers grazed my damp strands. "Why didn’t you dry your hair? It’s winter. You know that, right?" I blinked, a bit dazed. "I was going to-" "No excuses." His voice was firm, but playful. He took my hand and tugged me gently toward the walk-in closet. "Sit." I obeyed, a little too willingly, and settled in front of the dressing table as he rummaged around for the blow dryer. When he returned, he plugged it in with practiced ease and tested the heat with his fingers. Then he stood behind me and began drying my hair. It started as a gentle hum of warm air, but the sensation quickly became something deeper. Something comforting. His fingers threaded through my wet locks with such care that I found myself leaning into the touch. He moved slowly, methodically, smoothing the strands, his other hand brushing down the length of my hair with a tenderness I didn’t know I needed. "You really like taking care of people, don’t you?" I murmured, meeting his gaze through the mirror. "I do," he admitted, focused entirely on his task. "But I like taking care of you the most." The blow dryer shifted angles as he worked, creating a soft breeze that warmed my skin. Neither of us spoke much after that. The silence between us was filled with something softer than words. The occasional brush of his fingers against the nape of my neck, the low hum of the dryer, the warmth of his body so close to mine... it was all too easy to forget everything else in that moment. Once my hair was dry, he turned off the dryer and put it aside. I stood up just as he stepped away from the vanity, only to feel him stop me gently with a touch to my arm. "Not so fast," he said, his voice low again. "Come here." I circled the stool, moving closer until I stood beside him. He reached for my wrist, guiding me in front of the mirror again, then stepped behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders. "You look like moonlight," he murmured, taking a section of my now dry silver hair and curling it slowly around his index finger. "I swear, when the light hits you just right, you look like a goddess sent straight down from the stars." A breath caught in my throat. I didn’t know what to say. "And this," he whispered, letting the strand fall and reaching to lightly tap the tip of my nose, "might just be my favorite thing. So perfect. You don’t even know how tempting you are when you wrinkle it while thinking." That made me laugh, it was a soft surprised sound. "You really think I’m that pretty?" "I think you are..." He paused, his tone turning more serious as his hand came to hold my chin gently. He tilted my face up until our eyes met in the mirror. "You are breathtaking, Evaline. These eyes..." His thumb traced along the underside of my eye. "Amber. Like fire. I love seeing them glow in sunlight. But even in the shadows, they pull me in." My heart started thudding, hard and loud in my chest. The way he was looking at me made me feel like the only person in the world. I was so busy trying not to combust under the weight of his gaze that I didn’t even notice his other hand until I felt it at my waist, fingers deftly tugging at the belt of my robe. "Oscar..." I breathed. "Relax," he murmured. He didn’t pull it open completely... just enough to let the fabric slide off my left shoulder. My breath hitched as the air hit my newly exposed skin. My shoulder. My collarbone. The faint upper curve of my left breast. All of it was now visible in the mirror, but I didn’t feel shy. Not when he was looking at me like that. "Your skin..." he whispered, bending down to press a slow, lingering kiss on my shoulder. "So smooth. Like a baby." His lips left a trail of wet kisses down the length of my shoulder, and I watched it all happen through the mirror...watched the way his eyes softened, the way his expression turned reverent, like he was worshipping me. And then...everything shattered. His voice. Those exact words. So smooth. Like a baby. Suddenly, I couldn’t hear Oscar anymore. The room blurred. The soft glow of the vanity lights turned harsh and cold. My heart was now pounding not with affection but with terror. And my hands started trembling. And then the memory struck me like a whip. --- I was huddled in the corner of a dark room, knees pulled to my chest. My hair was dirty, my skin bruised. A figure loomed in front of me - young, but cruel. His eyes held no warmth. "Did you forget how much I liked your fair, baby-smooth skin?" he yelled. I shook my head frantically, whispering a soft, "No... I didn’t forget." His hand slapped across my cheek with brutal force and my head jerked back. "Then why the hell are there still whip marks on you?!" he screamed, grabbing my arm and pulling it roughly to reveal angry red lashes. "Why haven’t you used the ointment I gave you?" "I-I will," I cried. "I just... forgot." "You forgot?" His voice dropped into something cold and poisonous. "If I see another scar on you, Eva, I swear... I’ll make a new one myself." --- "Eva." Oscar’s voice was sharp, panicked. "Eva!" I gasped. The image faded. The room around me shifted back into place - the warm lights, the soft rug under my feet, the mirror, and Oscar’s arms around me... holding me tight. "You are safe," he whispered fiercely. "You are safe with me." I clung to him, burying my face into his chest as my whole body shook. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t find the words. But he didn’t ask. He didn’t push. He simply held me, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other gently rubbing my back. And for now, that was all I needed.

Chapter 217: The Angry Whip Marks

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