The Desired Victim

Chapter 31: Hark, The Deviled Demon Sings

I had no luck in trying to formulate an escape plan. Anything that I thought might have had a chance of working, I found an issue that flawed the plan almost immediately. I was getting more and more frustrated and aggravated, so in order to not go completely mad, I started pacing the room. I wasn't sure how much longer Emory would be in the washroom, and I wasn't sure what kind of mood he'd be in when he came out.

I was pacing for a long while, trying to calm myself down, and then I heard a deep and rich voice softly singing. It was coming from the washroom. My entire body freezes, as if in a trance, and my head slowly turns towards the door.

Emory was singing.

I was taken aback. I wasn't used to seeing the side of Emory that was actually . . . human. The voice I was hearing couldn't possibly belong to a man with such an evil, merciless, cruel, and angry heart. And yet . . . it did. 

He started to sing a little louder, his voice echoing off the walls, and then I realized that he wasn't even singing in English. It was a beautiful language, whatever it was. Possibly French, though I wasn't sure. Each note was accentuated flawlessly, and I was completely absorbed and fascinated with the sound. In a world such as this, there were not many opportunities to witness beauty in its most natural and honest form. 

I continued to listen, and I slowly crept towards the door. I wanted to hear more, Emory's singing was almost hypnotizing. It made me forget about the man he really was. 

Daringly, with my hands shaking, I press my ear to the door, completely focused on the sound of his voice. When I started to think about it, I realized that when he wasn't growling or yelling or swearing, Emory did have quite a lovely speaking voice. Even though his accent wasn't English, he could probably still blend in with my royal people back home if he wanted to.

I frowned at myself. Why on earth was I thinking about this? It was absurd to think that Emory could be anything more than the vile and disgusting human being that he is. He could never be royal, he was a monster. 

I close my eyes, still in awe of the song he was singing. It sounded so sad, and yet so beautiful. And it revealed that Emory truly can be something that he usually isn't.

Vulnerable.

Suddenly, to my horror, the door flies open and I almost crash forward to the ground. I catch myself from losing my balance and falling over, and I look up into the face of a very annoyed Emory.

He was only clothed from the waist down, and my stomach shot up to my throat at the sight of him. My face immediately went aflame, and I was completely speechless and mortified. I stood where I was, just staring at him like a fool.

"Do you mind?" he finally snapped. "Move."

He shouldered his way past me, and I was still completely frozen from embarrassment. He didn't seem angry and he didn't appear to be feeling aggressive, but he wasn't calm or relaxed either. I figured that the best thing to do was to stay out of his way, as usual. 

He stood by the bed, facing away from me. It appeared that he was cleaning or doing something to his gun, but I was completely horrified by something else.

His entire back was covered by scars. Under the strong and prominent muscles were thick red scars that completely covered his backside. I had only seen the front side of him bare, which consisted of smooth and undamaged skin. But his back made my spine tingle, it was close to looking almost mutilated. Was it from being whipped? Who would do this to him? 

"Are you just going to stand there until we get to Mexico?" Emory said loudly without looking at me or turning around. I had a feeling he knew I was staring at his back.