REVENGE WITH LOVE : CHAPTER 61 – 70

REVENGE WITH LOVE : CHAPTER 61 – 70

CHAPTER 65 & 66

THE TORTURED TORTURER

In that moment, everything else faded away into a blur, leaving only the intense sensations of their mouths moving together. Kracus could feel her warm breath mingling with his own as they both devored each other’s lips, the erratic sound of their breathing could be heard in the quiet room.

The taste of her on his tongue was a heady mix of sweet and salty, driving him wild with desire, clouding his head for a moment, making him forget why he was in her bedroom, on top of her, in the first place.

As he explored the depths of her mouth, he couldn’t help but notice the softness of her lips against his own. They were full and plump, with just a hint of a pout that made them all the more alluring. He felt himself getting lost in the sensation of her body underneath him, the way she glided her lips against his mouth.

REVENGE WITH LOVE : CHAPTER 61 – 70

Meanwhile, in Bose’s bedroom, Clinton sat on the brown chair, staring at the wall in silence. His eyes held a little bit of concern at the sudden silence in the environment.

Most bedrooms in the mansion had really thick walls, especially in the right wing which was the main part of the house. The second and third floor of the left wing were mostly bedrooms for security personnel. The boss’s personal bodyguards got the third floor, and its walls were really thin that they could communicate with each other from their bedrooms if they raised their voices.

They had heard the Torturer scream at the boss, and what suspiciously seemed like they were fighting, before the sudden silence. It bothered him.

“You sure one of them hasn’t killed the other? That silence is disturbing.” he asked, worriedly.

“The boss can take care of himself.” Bose answered firmly.

“Hell, yeah. But when it’s an equal opponent and on an equal ground. When she woke up swinging, I’m sure the boss wasn’t gonna defend her attack with an attack of his own.”

Silence descended between them. Bose reached into the cabinet and withdrew one of his rifles. Hell, he might as well keep himself busy since it was obvious he wasn’t falling back to sleep anytime soon. As he cleaned out the rifle, he couldn’t get the image of The Torturer lying on her bed, crying and helpless against the ruthless hands of whatever had held her captive at that moment.

“After what we saw tonight, I think I understand her motives better.” Clinton said at last, breaking the silence.

“What motive?” Bose asked, reluctantly.

“Her attack on the boss. Her resolve to kill him. I think it goes way beyond simply the death of her father, and it’s more like how he died. According to what the boss said, he died in front of her and the ambulance didn’t arrive on time. I can’t imagine how those passing minutes felt to an eight-year-old as she watched the life drain from her father’s body until it was his corpse in her arm.”

Bose’s hand paused, and he raised his head to focus his eyes on Clinton, “Don’t do it.”

“Do what?”

“This,” he gestured with his hand, “this pity. She wouldn’t like it. She might have your head for it.”

Clinton sat upright in his chair, nodding firmly. “I would never do that in front of her,” he said, his voice low and resolute. “I know that she wouldn’t want to be pitied. Infact, as far as i’m concerned, tonight didn’t happen. I didn’t hear her scream and I didn’t go into her bedroom.” He paused, his eyes drifting off to the distance. “But I’m still glad it did happen,” he added after a moment of silence.

Bose looked at him incredulously. “You are?”

“I mean,” Clinton replied, his voice still low, “that it made it easier for me to forgive her for almost assassinating the boss.”

Bose shook his head, a scowl forming on his face. “You’re crazy,” he muttered.

“Shut up, dude. I know you’re thinking the same too.” Clinton rose from his chair then, stretching his arms and letting out a long, tired sigh. “I have to go to bed,” he said, his voice suddenly weary. “Gotta try to catch whatever remained from that sleep she interrupted. Goodnight, dickhead.”

“Fuck you, asshat,” Bose replied without heat, his eyes still fixed on his retreating form. After the door closed behind Clinton, he stopped cleaning his rifle, staring into space.

The Torturer had always rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t like her guts, but he hated to admit to himself that what Clinton said was right. After what they’d witnessed tonight, he could understand what drove her.

He’d thought the woman was simply a machine that killed people without a second thought, and that she had ulterior motives for working with the boss after her failed attempt to kill him. Bose had never bought into her bullshit that she was trying to make up for going after the wrong man, because from all he’d seen—and read about her, she had no conscience.

But tonight, he hated to admit that it DID make a difference on his perspective of her.

And, just what the hell was going on in that bedroom now?

In the said bedroom, Tesiera kissed Kracus’s lips with a fervor she hadn’t felt in her life. When she’d allowed herself to think of it, she’d wondered what kissing Kracussian would be like, and tonight it was happening. It was more than she’d imagined it would be.

Her body was responding to him in ways she never imagined. The skin of his lips was smooth and warm, like silk against her own. She felt with an intensity she hadn’t felt before, aching with need in a height that she couldn’t explain.

When he broke the kiss, it was all he could do not to tangle her hand into his soft, black curl and force his lips back on hers again. It took unusual willpower, but Tesiera pulled away from him.

“Damn,” he murmured, his breathing heavy like hers and his gray eyes looking carefully at her face as if to take in every detail.

For a moment, there was silence, before he ran a hand through his hair and looked at her, “I’m sorry, that shouldn’t have happened,” he said in a low tone at last.

“No, it shouldn’t have,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. Tesiera was becoming fully aware of her surroundings.

The warmth of her skin turned cold when it really dawned on her that she’d had one of those rare, violent episodes here in his house. The fact that Kracus was in her bedroom in his night robe filled her with dread and she felt disgusted at herself. Just how loud was I?

“I’m sorry for the disruption I must have caused.” The room was shrouded in darkness, with only a faint light seeping through the open windows, casting a ghostly glow on their faces. That was small comfort because it shielded her face from Kracus’s gaze, and with it, the emotions she was struggling to control. She could feel the weight of the room bearing down on her.

Kracus stood up from the bed and straightened his robes, his movements slow and deliberate. “Get some sleep, Tesiera. We can talk about this in the morning,” he said in a soothing tone.

As soon as he left, Tesiera crumpled onto the bed, her fingers gripping the sheets with a force that made her knuckles turn white. The memories of her father’s death still haunted her after all these years, as vivid as the day they happened. The image of his lifeless body, lying there while she tended to it, was etched into her mind forever.

I can’t go on like this. Just how long can I hold out before I snap?

She felt like she was reaching her breaking point, the haunting memories and the nightmares becoming too much to bear.

Hopefully, before that happened, she would have killed all the men who cruelly ended her father’s life and left an eight-year old to tend to the corpse of the man she loved most in the world for two hours. The longest hours of her life.

Hopefully, she would have gotten her revenge before this storm she could feel brewing inside her overtook her completely.

REVENGE WITH LOVE : CHAPTER 61 – 70

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