Chapter 12

Layla's POV

I could smell Vincent in the air.

He smelt like a mixture of cedar and lavender.

How could someone who smelt so good turn out to be such a morbid sadistic bastard? I thought to myself. Why does he have to chain me up like this in a dungeon?

At that time, the eye mask was removed from my face.

Even though my eyes were still covered by gel, I could still manage to see the blurry figure of him.

"You're awake. Good." He mumbled to himself and took up a towel to wipe the gel off my face.

His voice was still monotonic as if he wasn't happy to seem awake at all.

After the gel was wiped clean, I finally managed to see him clearly in the soft, dim light of the dungeon.

It seemed that he had just taken a shower. His dark hair, now damp and tousled, framed a face that seemed sculpted by the finest artist in the world. The cerulean depths of his eyes held a mysterious allure and desire.

"What is this place?! Where am I?! Is this a dungeon?!" I looked around and tried to sit up,