Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 320 - Three Hundred And Nineteen

DISCLAIMER: This Chapter contains some disturbing scenes. Tread carefully.

Marissa woke up feeling very dizzy. The world was spinning in dark, confusing circles. Her head pounded with a dull, heavy ache. She blinked her eyes several times. Her vision was distorted and blurry for some seconds. She could only see shapes of red and gold. The sickening, sweet smell of the drug still lingered in her nose and throat, making her want to cough.

Slowly, the room came into focus. She looked around. She immediately knew she was no longer in the quiet waiting room of the temple.

The room she was in was different. It was massive and heavily decorated. It looked like royalty. The walls were painted in rich, warm colors with pure gold trimming along the ceiling. Heavy velvet curtains covered the large windows, blocking out the night sky completely.

She was lying in the middle of a huge, four-poster bed. The sheets were made of dark red silk. But what caught her attention were the flowers. The entire bed was scattered with fresh, dark red rose petals. It was decorated perfectly for a couple’s consummation ceremony. The romantic setup made her stomach turn with fear.

Then, Marissa turned her head and looked at the walls.

A cold wave of absolute horror washed over her. She stopped breathing. Her eyes widened in pure disgust.

What sickened her the most was the artwork. Hung in every corner of the large room were large, expensive oil portraits. They were all paintings of her. But she was not wearing her elegant dresses in these paintings. In every single portrait, she was painted stark naked.

The artist had perfectly captured her face, her dark eyes, and her curly hair, even the mole in her eye but attached them to naked bodies in different, highly degrading sexual poses.

Some paintings showed her lying on a bed of furs. Others showed her tied to a chair.

Marissa felt bile rise in her throat. She felt completely violated just looking at them. It showed exactly how sick and twisted Prince Liam’s mind truly was. He was not just a greedy prince looking for power. He was a deeply disturbed monster who had been obsessing over her in secret. He had spent his time imagining her in these disgusting ways.

She tried to push herself off the bed, eager to escape this nightmare.

That was when she realized she could not move her hands. She looked down. Thick, rough ropes were tied tightly around her wrists, binding her hands securely in front of her stomach. She shifted her legs and felt another thick rope binding her ankles together.

She was tied up tightly. She was placed right in the center of the rose petals, wrapped and displayed like a present ready to be sent out as a gift.

Panic started to beat wildly in her chest. She pulled at the ropes, but they were tied by a professional. They did not loosen at all. The rough rope only burned the delicate skin of her wrists.

Suddenly, she heard a sound. A door clicked open.

Marissa froze. She looked toward the sound.

Then she saw the devil himself.

Prince Liam came out of the washroom. The washroom was brightly lit, and a cloud of warm steam rolled out into the bedroom behind him.

His chest was entirely bare. Water dripped down his pale skin, catching the light of the candles in the room. He wore no shirt, save for only his dark trousers, which sat low on his hips. The ugly, yellowing bruise from Princess Dahlia’s slap was still visible on his left cheek, making his face look even more cruel and unbalanced.

He did not look surprised to see her awake. He walked slowly, barefoot on the thick carpet. He stopped at the foot of the large bed.

He stared at her. His eyes moved slowly from her tied ankles, up her legs, over her waist, and finally rested on her face. His gaze was heavy, filled with an intense, burning longing and raw, dirty lust. He looked at her like a starving wolf looking at a trapped rabbit.

"You are awake," Prince Liam said. His voice was soft, almost like a whisper, but it sent cold shivers straight down Marissa’s spine.

Marissa glared at him. Her dark eyes were filled with pure, unfiltered hatred. She did not show her fear. She refused to give him that satisfaction.

"You," Marissa spat. The single word carried all her disgust and anger.

Liam did not get angry at her sharp tone. Instead, a slow, creepy smile spread across his lips.

"You stubborn woman," Liam continued.

He placed his hands on the mattress and climbed onto the bed. The bed dipped heavily under his weight. The red rose petals scattered around his hands and knees.

"I tried to be gentle," Liam said, his voice lowering as he began to crawl slowly toward her. "I sent you invitations. I offered you my favor. But you rejected my kindness. You embarrassed me. You forced me to use harsh methods to get what belongs to me."

Marissa tried to back away, but she was bound tightly. She could only scoot back a few inches before her back hit a pile of pillows.

Liam continued to crawl forward. He moved purposefully. He placed his left knee on the mattress on the outside of her left leg. He placed his right knee on the outside of her right leg.

He stopped moving. Marissa was now trapped completely in the middle of his legs as his knees boxed her in. She could not roll to the left, and she could not roll to the right.

When she was directly in the middle, trapped beneath his looming shadow, Liam reached out.

He grabbed the thick knot of the rope that bound her hands together. His grip was tight and strong.

With one sharp, powerful movement, he pulled her up.

Marissa let out a small gasp as she was dragged upward. Her arms ached from the sudden pull. He forced her into a sitting position on the bed, bringing her face much closer to his bare chest.

She kept her head held high, refusing to look down. She looked straight into his cold, obsessive eyes.

Liam raised his right hand. He slowly reached out to touch her face. He wanted to trace the line of her jaw with his fingers.

Marissa reacted instantly. She jerked her head sharply to the side, evading his touch completely. She refused to let his skin meet hers.

Liam’s hand stopped in the empty air. For a second, a flash of annoyance crossed his face. But then, he smiled again. It was a dark, twisted smile. He enjoyed her resistance. He liked the idea of breaking her.

He looked at her head. Her usually perfect hairstyle was ruined. Her hair was deeply disheveled from the struggle at the temple and the rough carriage ride. Several shiny hairpins were already coming off, hanging loosely in her dark locks.

"You know," Liam spoke, his voice dropping to a husky, intimate level that made Marissa feel sick. "I could never truly phantom how beautiful you are when your hair is down. You always wear it so tight. So perfect. So controlled."

He leaned his face a little closer. She could smell the expensive soap he used, mixed with the smell of strong wine.

"I have spent countless nights staring at those paintings," Liam whispered, gesturing with his head to the disgusting art on the walls. "But the real thing is so much better. I wonder how you look when you are truly in need."

His eyes darkened with lust.

"How feisty are you in bed, Marissa?" Liam asked, a cruel smirk on his lips. "Do you fight Derek like this? Do you scratch him? Do you bite?"