Chapter 364/The Picasso of Pain

Chapter 364

Jake’s point of view

She bolted off my lap with an incredible speed, fleeing my touch as if she were escaping a burning building. Grabbing the goddamn knife off the wooden table, she took wide, agitated strides back toward the marble countertop, violently scrubbing the surface with exaggerated movements just to mask the obvious tension shaking her body.

Damn that woman.

She looked so breathtakingly beautiful, so utterly captivating in her stubborn, unhinged madness that a massive urge to completely possess her, break her down, and lock her in my arms consumed me even though I thoroughly despised every single thing about her behavior.

I violently forced the filthy thoughts out of my head, pushing myself up from the chair. "I’m going to take a shower," I said, my voice dry as I tried to force it back into a normal cadence. "Keep an eye on the pot over the stove so our food doesn’t burn to a crisp."

She spun her torso around, her hand still aggressively wiping down the marble with the cloth as she let out an irritated groan. "I literally just told you a few minutes ago that I don’t know the first thing about cooking... how the hell am I supposed to know if the food is ready or not?!"

I let out a heavy, exhausted sigh, rubbing my hand over my forehead in pure exasperation. "Jesus Christ... watching a basic, primitive pot of food over a flame is considered a monumental, impossible task for that brilliant intellect of yours, isn’t it?!"

I walked over to the stove under her burning glare, lifting the heavy lid to inspect the meat and vegetables myself. I slammed it back down tightly. "It needs exactly fifteen minutes before it’s ready to eat. I’ll take a lightning-fast shower and be right back out."

"Fine," she snapped back coldly, not even bothering to look at me. "Go, and stop talking so much."

I walked with heavy steps toward the bathroom. The moment I stripped out of my clothes and stood completely naked under the bright light of the large mirror, the view of my torso hit me like a physical blow.

Massive, dark blue and deep purple contusions covered my chest and my injured side in a sickening, horrific pattern. It looked like I had been thoroughly mutilated by some alien creature, the gruesome marks left behind by her vicious lashes and total lack of mercy.

I ground my teeth with genuine fury, my fingers gripping the porcelain edge of the sink so tightly my knuckles turned stark white. "Oh, Julie..." I whispered, a bitter promise of violence in my voice. "You are truly going to pay for this agony. I’m going to return this tenfold."

I hurriedly finished washing the filth off under the hot stream, letting the water soothe the intense cramping in my muscles.

I stepped out of the bathroom, wrapping a white cotton towel around my waist while leaving my chest completely bare. The moment I stepped into the narrow hallway, I ran straight into her. She was standing there waiting, and her green eyes immediately traveled up and down my naked, battered torso.

"You look like absolute shit, Jake," she murmured, a thick wave of mockery and satisfaction bleeding into her voice.

I shot her a venomous glare. "I wonder what kind of goddamn monster put me in this condition, Julie? Any guesses?"

Instead of flinching or showing a shred of shame, she took slow, incredibly confident steps toward me.

With an unhinged audacity, her soft fingers reached out and lightly brushed against my inflamed, bare skin. She began to drag her fingertips over the swollen, raised contusions with an infuriating slowness, her voice dropping into a quiet, bizarrely fascinated murmur. "But honestly... they look beautiful on your build. The contrast is incredibly striking."

I knitted my brows in absolute shock at her sick mind. "Beautiful?! Purple contusions and internal bleeding look beautiful to you?!"

She continued to glide her fingertips smoothly over my skin, sending a violent shudder straight down my spine. Her eyes gleamed with a dark, manic obsession. "Yes... the way the colors bleed into each other like that is incredibly unique. The deep blues mixing with the dark purples against your pale skin." She dragged her finger slowly, highlighting the edges of an inflamed mark. "Look at how the shades turn so much lighter here at the borders..." Then, she pushed her finger upward with a light pressure toward my hard sternum. "...and right here, it becomes deep, dark, and perfectly congested with clotted blood. It’s a literal masterpiece."

I twisted my lips into a harsh, freezing scoff to shatter her delusion. "It seems like the late Picasso has been reincarnated inside that sick, twisted brain of yours! Since when did you become an art critic for domestic abuse?"

A wicked smirk played on her lips. She looked straight into the black of my pupils and whispered with pure malice, "Do you know what the most beautiful, entertaining part of this specific masterpiece is, Jake?"

I narrowed my eyes, on high alert for whatever trap she was setting. "What the hell is it? Speak."

"The fact that when I press my finger down hard right here... it hurts like hell and makes you bark!" she spat with total coldness.

Without a single micro-second of warning, she violently drove her thumb straight into the absolute center of the most inflamed, congested bruise on my chest. A blinding, white-hot fire erupted across my skin, the agony completely unbearable. A sharp, muffled groan of pain ripped from my throat against my will, and I stumbled back with frantic, unstable steps to escape her toxic touch.

"You are a certified fucking psychopath!" I roared, clutching my throbbing chest in pure agony. "You are completely unhinged! You belong in a goddamn asylum, you sadist!"

She waved her hands with an infuriating, playful allure, a mocking laugh dancing across her features as she followed my retreating steps. "Oh, come on, Jake... don’t be such a giant baby. Don’t lose your temper this quickly!"

She closed the distance between us with a sudden step, and before my brain could even register what she was doing, she leaned her cherry lips directly against the exact patch of inflamed skin she had just violently crushed. She pressed a soft, incredibly gentle, and warm kiss straight over the bruise.

A violent, electric shock jolted through every single vein in my body, completely freezing me to the spot. The terrifying contradiction in her actions left me entirely paralyzed. I stumbled back, a chaotic confusion taking over my face, before she asked in a slightly uneven whisper, "Is the pain gone now?"