Her Substitute Husband

ter

rmi

me. I now know why the name Aeshuma was particularly striking. Aeshuma Aetheris was the delinquen

own government facility in Italy where he was serving his 20-ye

e news. I say to my

less devil.I don't know what he's going to do to me. Just thinking about the eternity I had to spend with him corrodes my insides. I steal glances at him, and

ng my body against the car door. He notices it and pulls me close to himself, firming his grip on my waist the more I struggle to escape him. His unsteady breath falls on my face, and his eyes grow darker as he looks at me. I'm terrified.

e, Lottie? He says

without h

guttural, si

hould always be scared

opath. My substitute husband is a psychopath!!. His hands don't leave my waist, and occasionally his fingers dance on them. I wish

eminded me of the Taj Mahal. I remember now Anjeli Aetheris, Aeshuma's grandmother, was Indian, and she requ

rridors and doors to the far end of the mansion, a cold, dark, secluded area. Aeshuma works the door with a key, and before I realize it, he pushes me into the dark, cold room and locks it. I scream, pounding the door with my fist. I pound till I'm exhausted, and my fingers bear the brunt of my ac

aiting for me on the other side. I mutter underneath my breath. Suddenly a sharp light hits my eyelids; I struggle a bit against the light until my eyes get used to it. The floor starts to get warm. Did I die?.Is this the afterlife? I look

d it. The image of his body going limp and falling flat on the floor, his cold skin and his open eyes stained with horror, replay callously in my head. I stand from the bed and stagger to the bathroom. The cream latte jacuzzi reminds me of his suit, and I walk to it, running my hands through it. I'm sure I look like a mad lover, but I don't care. I kiss it and