Page 42 of Burn for the Devil
Ramone flattened his hand against my upper chest, one finger wandering to press the hollow at the base of my throat as if he were counting every beat of my heart at the pulse point.He’s grounding himself, I realized with a start. Why he was using me in that manner was a mystery. Was he dependent on me? It was becoming harder and harder to remember I was dreaming.
I took another deep breath and straightened myself up, avoiding his gaze as he drew his finger back. I had to consider with all seriousness, that just maybe I wasn’t sleeping. If I wasn’t, it flew in the face of all rational and objective thought. Wandering into fantasy and fairy tales was for small children, not full-grown adults.
I’d sincerely believed I’d fallen into a temporary stress-induced psychosis state, brought on by changing circumstances. Then, I’d flirted with the idea that perhaps I could trust my own experiences, and finally, I’d re-convinced myself I was the victim of mental illness. Now, here I was, back in the risky status ofpossiblytrusting my instincts. They were screaming at me, shouting from the rooftops that what I was experiencing with Ramone was real.
“Earlier, were you implying that this is real?” I’d been lying to myself for a while, and I didn’t want to admit it out loud.
Ramone’s mouth slid into a smile. “I wasn’t implying anything, my love. I assure you, I’m real.”
Taking a step back, I rephrased the question. “I mean this, this place. Is this real?” He ran his tongue along his teeth and then nodded. My heart began pounding a frenetic beat. “I’m not dreaming. Areyoudreaming?”
He took a single step closer. “When I look at you, when Iseeyou, I am convinced I am in a dream from which I never want to wake. From the moment I spotted you, you’ve consumed my every thought, my every desire, and I claimed you in that singular instant. There is nowhere you could have gone, and no where you have yet to go, in which I won’t find you.”
Ramone closed the space between us. “I’ll chase you through your dreams and pursue you through my own. I will tear apart every dimension if it means I’m reflected in your gaze one more time.”
“You’re scaring me,” I said softly, the ramifications of his extreme poetic words prickling my skin. It was above and beyond anything anyone had ever said to me, and I was having trouble processing his intense declarations. I knew he was serious as I somehow had an enhanced ability to read him here, wherever we were.
He kissed my temple and took my hand. “You should be scared. I’ll devour your soul if it's the only way to keep you.”
We followed the road through the woods while I tried to take in the scenery and rifle through everything he’d said. He’d neither confirmed nor denied whether or not I was lying in my bed, asleep, or if I was physically present in this unique space.
My body felt real, his touch felt real, the breeze lifting my hair from my shoulders didn’t seem manufactured. If I was unconscious, I was more present than I’d expect to be under those circumstances. It was as if I were trapped in the little cottage, again.
I’d told the man guiding me toward some castle that I’d never wanted to see him again, and yet here I was, holding his manicured, decorated, and ringed hand in mine while I traveled into the unknown. He’d jailed me, murdered my ex in cold blood right in front of me, ravished me multiple times, and as of ten minutes ago told me he wanted to kill me.
If my fragile state of mind hadn’t cracked already, disintegration would be right around the corner. For whatever reason, I wasn’t running away from my own demise but rather, embracing it with open arms.
“If you are to be trusted, with what you are saying, why would you do these things? Don’t you own a large company? Isn’t this risky? You shouldn’t tell people you’ll eat their soul; it sounds a bit violent.”
“I own a large company that owns many other companies and smaller businesses. I own the bank that gave you the small loan you needed for your shop as well.”
Oh.
“But why would you risk all that for me? You could lose everything.”
“I would lose it all a million times over for you. It doesn’t matter; it’d be easily reacquired. The laws that govern man don’t apply to me in the same fashion.” Grinning, Ramone pushed his hands into his pockets after I pulled mine away.
He seemed to have the smug, arrogant attitude so many men in his position had. Billionaires always thought they were special. They were, in having more money than nearly anyone else, but they also managed to get away with things no one else could. “Are you telling me you have a really good lawyer?”
Ramone laughed. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. The castle is just over this next hill,” he remarked, tilting his head and reaching for my hand again. “You can’t hide your feelings for me. They’re visible.”
My mouth dropped open slightly. “You should mind your own business,” I said.
“You are my business. Protest however much you want; it doesn’t change a thing.”
We crested the hill and a medieval structure rose in front of us, beautiful and imposing. A bank of impossibly tall mountains stretched to the sky in the distant background and a cobblestone bridge covered a small ravine leading to the front doors, offering a view of what was likely once lush landscaping. Ramone grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop while he slowly examined our surroundings.
“Is there no one here?” I asked. There were no signs of life, and the building appeared nearly uninhabitable, with its crumbling towers, cracked glass, and chunks of facade missing.Huge, rectangular granite blocks littered the pathway along with what may have been the fabric from flags that once waved in the breeze. A frayed and torn red carpet lay across the front steps.
He bit the corner of his lip, turning his head again. “I can’t sense anyone, not even a squirrel.”
Ignoring his odd reply, I asked, “Normally there are people here?”
“Many.”
We started moving again, approaching the splintered wooden doors after crossing the bridge. The damage appeared more from neglect than violence or vandalism. Ramone lifted his hand, flicking his wrist, and then the doors popped open, creaking on rusty hinges.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. It very much seemed as though he’d opened the door without physically touching it. That was exactly what it looked like, as impossible as it should be. There was no way to ask without coming across as crazier than I already felt so I kept my mouth shut and followed him in. He leaned down and removed a long knife he’d had hidden strapped to his calf, gripping it in a tight fist before leading us farther inside.