Capítulo 32: THE PAINTING
"I was getting bored...but then I remembered I have a thing to play with."
Megara dare not look at him. She has gotten used to his harsh statements but that doesn't mean she doesn't get hurt. She might appear stoic in the face but deep down even she refutes her weeping heart.
Afraid to bend down yet forced to kneel because of the guilt that rushes in her veins.
In the end, she blames herself for everything. In the end, she failed to protect him instead of protecting him...she was the one who threw him into the dark ocean.
But...would anyone understand what truly goes in that heart of hers? Would anyone ever listen to her? Believe her? The one who believes her is already suffering.
Can anyone just believe her once? Can he listen to her again? Listen to what occurred.
What she did back then...she knew it was her destruction as well as his but she was certain she would be able to protect him from the harsh world even if they didn't end up together in the end, not only she failed in her goal but she also failed to protect him.
She was a mere loser.
Nothing but a useless being.
She failed to protect him, his love, and his innocence...everything which he handed her with faith, she crushed them all. She doesn't blame him at all for being like this. At first, when she met him again after many years, she was in a rebellious mood, she was afraid he would kill her but now she believes killing her is not his intention, he intends to break her so much that she begs for forgiveness and death.
She has reached the stage of forgiveness, in fact, she was always on this stage...she wants him to listen to her again and forgive her but she knows he won't, he has already listened to her and has called her a liar and a two-faced coward.
Anyone in their right mind will not believe her.
She has no words to defend her name. Not back then and not after so many years either.
She looked down at the wooden box resting on the wet marbles. She saw his pale hand caressing the brown wood. Her heart thudded against her ribcage as he slowly opened the box. A faint frown kissed her stoic face when she saw the small paint boxes inside with two wooden painting brushes, outwards wooden flowers were carved on the brushes.
What was he going to do? She thought. Her eyes slowly moved upwards when a rustling sound fell on her ears. Her frown deepened when she saw him taking off his robe. She had so many questions in her mind, her eyes trailing down with his sliding robe. He only had his black trouser on. Her gaze caressed his toned body, his six abs were prominent, and the wings above his abs were well-defined as well, his arms were double compared to hers, and were muscular enough to crack someone's neck in one blow.
His pale skin made him look even more out of the world. His long black locks were draped on his shoulders, making him look so magnificent one could not look away. She looked at him with a frown on her face, her head was throbbing in pain and she was already getting roasted in a high fever.
She knew she wouldn't be able to bear anything he was about to do.
With a perplexed and slightly hazy gaze, she stared at him.
"What are y----"
His hands clasped around her ankles as he dragged her down. A gasp escaped her lips when she found him between her wide legs. In sheer shock for a few seconds, she finally began to struggle. Her wrists were tied up by the chains, the more she struggled the more painful it was for her. Her back was still slightly reclining against the pillar but her legs were wide open by him.
She gulped dryly.
Her orbs shrank when he began to loosen her robe.
"What are you doing?" She tried to revolt by thrashing her legs but he held her ankles tightly with one of his hands, her legs no longer stretched out, they were now resting on his right shoulder as he continued to open her robe with his left hand. His gaze was so intense she felt herself trembling and tried to control her quivering lips and body but couldn't.
Cold sweat broke on her body as she felt the cold air touching her bare tummy. She looked down, her breathing unstable. Her stomach was on display, thankfully her chest was wrapped in a sarashi. She flinched when he caressed her stomach with the tip of his fingers.
"You remember, under that tree behind the training ground...we used to paint."
Her eyes fleeted up at him once his words fell on her ears.
"You were the one who taught me how to paint."
"I haven't painted for so long."
He said while caressing her stomach. She took a sharp inhale when he rubbed her belly button, his finger moving up and down on her soft skin, grazing it slowly. Her eyes darted toward his arm where she saw the flame tattoo. Her orbs throbbed as she realized he still remembered that mere thing that she barely had any memories of.
Just how much he loved her?
Just how much she missed out on?
"I...want to paint again." He whispered under his whiff but she heard him. Her head was throbbing in pain as she looked at his hand caressing her skin. Her body started aching in such an uncomfortable position.
"L...Let go." She stammered and gulped.
He looked at her face. Her face was redder than before and her gaze was unfocused. His eyes slightly narrowed and he put his palm on her flat stomach, not to his surprise, she was having a fever. His gaze stayed on her face before traveling down to her neck, he found her gulping. His eyes continue to go down, now halting on her bosoms. This was probably the first time he was seeing them this exposed but they were just as he imagined.
He dreaded to say beautiful.
His eyes traveled down, he found a bruise right beneath her left bosom, it was coming from her back, basically, it was included in the whip marks on her back.
He guided his hand up, caressing that bruise. His lips trembling, aching to kiss that bruise. He licked his quivering lips, diverting his gaze to her flat stomach. He guided his hand down, caressing her skin more firmly.
So smooth, he wanted to lick it.
Just as this thought crossed his mind, the hand that was resting on her belly, trembled in endurance. He kept saying 'I hate her, her whole being' in his mind like a mantra but deep down his demon knew how he wanted to take her right at the moment.
Chew on her skin like a wild animal and make her scream in pain, this way he will finally see her crying.
Evandros shook his head.
Megara raised her hazy gaze, looking up at him. He wasn't doing anything other than rubbing her stomach. Her head was getting heavier with every passing minute. She felt her breath getting hotter, her eyes burning and she felt her body trembling due to the cold and wet marbles beneath her.
She found him shaking his head before he spread her legs again, letting go of her ankles he let her legs rest on either side of his waist. She wasn't protesting anymore. She was too weak to even struggle anymore. Her fever was getting intense.
He slowly grabbed the brush with his long and pale fingers, caressing the tip of the brush with the tip of his fingers. He grabbed one of the small boxes of paint in his hand, opening it with his thumb. He dipped the brush in the paint, she stared at it in confusion while he stared at her face scrunched in confusion.
A smirk made its way onto his face.
He put the box on the marble, his eyes moving away from her face to her beautiful stomach. This was something he always wanted to do, even back then.
He is crazy...he knows.
He put his left hand on the side of her hip bone. He licked his lips, his heart beating in utter excitement. He felt her muscles tensing up when he put the tip of the brush on her stomach.
Megara's eyes widened in shock when she realized what he was doing.
He was painting on her stomach.
The painting that she taught him.
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