Nora passes him a sultry look, causing his big, round face to turn red.
“Not sure how Niklas will feel about it,” James adds, “or even Dorian—if h-he ever gets out of that cell, of course”—he glances at Victor—“but I suppose time will tell.”
Yes, time tends to hold the answers to everything. And the way things are now, how things have taken such a drastic turn in our Order, I’m both anxious and afraid to see what time reveals. I guess the only thing I can do is wait. Wait for Niklas to come back and hold my breath as whatever is destined to happen between him and Victor, happens. Wait for the day that Dorian’s fate will finally be decided. Wait for the moment if, or when, Victor finds out about the child I had with Javier, and brace for the consequences of the truth. Wait to see if my judgment is, in fact, off by a mile and Nora ends up making a fool of me, after all.
Waiting. Time is a cruel bitch.
23
Fredrik
About eight years ago…
Seraphina. My angel with black wings. She smiled; a crimson sheen on her lips, framed by hair as black as my soul, her eyes as deep as the bottomless pit that is my heart. She laid near the warm body, her long, white fingers coiled within the girl’s silky blonde hair. Her breasts lavish and full, pressed against the girl’s smaller ones. They were both naked, curled around one another. They were waiting for me.
“It’s very simple,” Seraphina said and she trailed the tip of her tongue across the girl’s neck, looking across the room at me with those dark pools of sin and salvation. “We do everything together, my love”—her tongue traced the girl’s bottom lip and the girl returned the gesture—“my devil, my dark prince.”
I stepped forward, breaking apart the buttons of my dress shirt.
Seraphina went on:
“We seek vengeance together. We fuck and we love and we damn and we destroy together until the day we die together.”
She reached out her dainty, but deadly hand and gestured for me, curling her fingers toward her palm, slowly and suggestively.
“Come here and taste her,” she said and then dropped her hand in-between the girl’s thighs. “You have to taste her.”
The girl moaned with Seraphina’s touch, her blonde head pressing against my wife’s shoulder, her petite and tender breasts pushing into view of the dim light in the small room.
I remained standing at the foot of the bed, watching them, the way Seraphina’s fingers moved with such artistic precision, how the girl’s legs parted for her, exposing her most secret place to me and to the cool night air.
“I told you not to bring them here,” I finally said as I slipped my belt from the loops on my black pants, the sound of leather moving against fabric in a slow and deliberate motion. “Never without my permission. And never here.” I was infuriated, but I kept it inside.
Seraphina’s dark red lips spread into a delightful smile. The girl fondled Seraphina’s breasts, nuzzled her head in the crook of her neck; she tried to touch Seraphina below, but wasn’t allowed, so she pulled her hand away, trailing her fingertips across her stomach.
“Oh, Fredrik,” Seraphina said, raising her back from the bed, “you can’t mean that all of the time. I’m trying to help you. This is just part of the process.”
“But just the same,” I said, “I’ve told you not to bring them into our home.”
Seraphina and I shared a look, her smile darkening with disappointment; my unemotional face had not changed. But my wife was never one to back down so easily. She was never one to do as I said with the snap of two fingers because she was bold and defiant and I loved that about her.
She got up from the bed.
The girl became alert and sat up when she noticed the growing tension in the room.
“I want you to fuck her,” Seraphina said. “I brought her here for you. Look at her”—she waved a hand at the girl, who was quite beautiful with plump lips and big brown eyes and curvy hips—“I thought you’d like her. I like her.”
The girl glanced back and forth between us nervously.
“But this is our home, Seraphina.” I stepped closer to her tall, naked form. “You know I don’t like fucking them here, where we sleep, where I fuck you.”
“I uh…I think I’ll go now,” the girl said, getting up from the bed.
“No!” Seraphina snapped, pointing at her. “Sit the fuck down.” She looked back at me, glaring, gritting her teeth. Her brown eyes brilliantly gleaming in her angry oval face; the black of her short hair glistening against the creamy-white of her cheeks.
The girl was too afraid to move. She remained on the bed, drawing her knees up toward her and covering her breasts with her long hair.
“You can go,” I told the girl, jerking my head backward, indicating the opened door behind me.