Chapter Six- Within The Realms Of Possibility?

Chapter six- Within The Realms Of Possibility?

"I am a curious virgin and my eyes tend to wander."

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I accepted that my plan for momentary escape from reality had been foiled and went ahead to prepare my father's food. I knew defiance would have been futile and only reaped undesirable results, but I remained sulky regardless.

Most of the time the Devil prefers to dine alone in his own dinning room and I pray that tonight is one of those rare times he wishes to share a meal with the rest of his family.

I cannot afford to be alone with him.

I do not trust myself to conduct myself satisfactorily in his company.

I transferred my rage to the sharp knife in my grip and seared the Sawaki, with unrefined bitterness. The fish delicacy did not do anything to me, but anger best disguises my anxiety. Thank goodness for the apron, I am not being as cautious as I should be and I kept my nightdress on because I do not intend on sitting at the dinner table, albeit knowing that my mother wishes for my presence always.

As I seasoned the fish, I found myself amused at how I had made a mountain out of a molehill. I have exaggerated the situation and wrecked my nerves over such a trivial matter.

I mean what's the worst that could happen?

As long as I faithfully abide by the Devil's rules and do not misbehave, I will never find myself thrown over his lap and liable to receive the justice of his large palms or his trusted black paddle.

I can't believe I was this close to making the rest of my stay here miserable.

That dash of relief was so refreshing and succulent to my weary mind, that my mood flipped completely. My surly pout was replaced by a mirthful smile and I even began to hum mindlessly as I tapped the very convenient sink tap and bathed my hands free from spices.

I spun on my heel, and my trip to the fitted cupboards was cut short when my eyes met those soul-less silver blue eyes.

I knew that the Devil was not done with me, but I hadn't anticipated that those vigilant eyes would be creeping on my skin so soon.

Look at him. Just leaning into the door frame and studying me like active bacteria under a microscope. His nonchalance deserves an award. I can't even begin to wonder which mood he was graced with this warm, moonless night.

His hands crossed behind his back, he did not move a single muscle, even his eyes did not get any exercise. I tore my eyes away from him and proceeded to search for the all the necessary ingredients. I can never emerge victorious from the staring contest we constantly engage in.

I shouldn't even try.

I shouldn't even be astonished. This isn't the first time he watches me move about the kitchen, nor is it the last. I don't know why, but my father finds me completing the chores he gives me, to be entertaining.

I wish I had some outside opinions so I could gauge if this was normal or not.

The way he loves staring at me.

Is it normal?

Sometimes he just stares for minutes without moving or saying a word, his eyes just trail me from corner to corner.

I would have not dreaded being at the centre of his odd hobby, if he did not awaken such discord within me.

He makes me so nervous, just being aware of his presence drains the air from my lungs.

I endeavoured my hardest to act as though he wasn't drilling holes into my skin with those devilish eyes and anxiously made a bed of vegetables on an oven dish for the Sawaki.

I was charmed by an almost unbearable urge to peer over my shoulder and check if he's still leisurely slanting into the door frame, but I resisted. The silence was chewing me alive, I would soon be no better than regurgitated decay, but I was a coward.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Yet I knew he was watching.

With great unease, I carefully lifted the fish from the tray and laid it on top of the vegetables drenched in steaming broth.

I needed to be quick, before he led to my undoing.

Hastily, I bent over to reach for the oven gloves and flinched so terribly, I nearly bashed my head with the counter.

"My Liloco." My father's deep voice penetrated through the silent night, standing out like well brewed coffee beans amongst inexpensive, bland rooibos tea. No man withholds such dominance in his voice alone.

I will admit, it is for the best the Devil favours silence and prefers to let his actions speak for him.

Even a compliment would sound like a promise of immediate death coming from him.

But that's not where my concern is. His proximity has me more rattled.

He is standing right behind me. He has not spared even the tiniest bit of my personal space.

"Y-y-yes daddy?" I managed a wavering reply and slowly straightened my back. I am only five feet, six inches, my father hovers over me like the ever impending, unavoidable death. He is so close I draw in his strong, virile, distinct scent with every draft of oxygen I take in.

I prayed endlessly that he does not find this the perfect time for him to confront me.

I wouldn't know how to explain myself.

I am a curious virgin and my eyes tend to wander.

But it does not take a curious person to notice a bulge that prominent.

The Devil's luxurious gift; long pauses of painstaking silence.

My heart is running a marathon and my body trembles subtly. He has me trapped, I fear initiating any movement that will consequently patch my body onto his.

"You dismissed yourself," he hissed sharply and I gulped, "I never said you could leave. Since when do you act without my permission, angel?"

No.

That should not qualify as me misbehaving. I can't have a repeat of earlier.

"I am sorry, daddy," I articulated each word breathlessly, "I promise it won't happen again. Please forgive me."

"Hmmm.." He purred deeply, and so suddenly, his palms curved into my shoulders and he tilted his head down. My knees failed me and went weak as he leaned into me and pressed me into the counter. "About what you saw earlier-"

I knew better than to override him, but I had spewed the words before I could even think of taming my tongue. "I did not see anything!"

When he gruffly muttered into my ear and his warm breath streamed over my neck, I was nipped by an electric current. I couldn't fathom what was happening to me. I can't even say when I closed my eyes or why I did it.

"Do not lie to me, angel," his fingers slid up and curled around my neck, applying minimum pressure to my throat, "I have just one question for you, and it is unnecessary for me to remind you that you will only answer me with complete honesty."

A question?

I am doomed!

Why am I feeling this way?!

Something is not right.

The way he is holding me.

The way my body is absorbing his body heat like a conductor.

The way his lips brush into my earlobe each time he speaks.

Things are spiraling out of control....

And I'm allowing them to.