Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I blink into the bright room when the bag is pulled from my eyes. All I can do is stare, wondering when I finally snapped. Did I lose my mind before or after I was hit in the head? Have I always been delusional and insane?
The person I've wanted to see more than anyone in the world shifts her weight on my lap, a slow devious smile spreading across her face. I want to give in to her. This illusion my mind has conjured in order to deal with my situation.
“I know it will never be fifty-fifty between us,” the ghost of her says.
“I know you'll always have more power than me,” I grumble against the rope, trying to tell this illusion all the things I wish I'd said. All the things I wish I'd done. I confess my mistakes but each sound is as incoherent as the next.
She shushes me, pressing her finger to my lips. Tears leak from my eyes. Another thing I've been able to control until her.
“I'm as real as you are,” she says, forcing my heart rate to triple. “Only this time, you're my captive.”
Chapter 40
Raya
I want to bask in the moment he realizes that it's real. The second I took the black bag from his head, I could tell he thought his brain was trying to trick him. It gives me hope. It tells me that everything I’ve done leading up to this point was worth it.
He grumbles against the rope in his mouth and as tempted as I am to remove it, I can't.
I push away from him, standing, and take a moment to admire him this way. I never thought I'd be the one who wanted to be in control. Not when I relished the power he's had over me since day one. I know it'll never happen again. I know that when I release him, he's going to be the one who controls me with his words, with his looks, even with that air of power that just seems to circle around him.
I begin to pull my clothes off, first my t-shirt, then my jeans, leaving my bra and panties for last. His eyes follow the glide of every piece of fabric as it goes from my body to the floor at my feet.
“I know you didn't mean a word that you said in that motel room.”
He shakes his head and I read it to mean that he didn't because getting rejected after all that I've done would carry the sting of a thousand suns. As strong as I tried to convince myself that I was, how I would just move on with my life if he rejected me, I know better. Living without half of yourself is impossible.
“Lauren and Angel told me they had a hand in convincing you to walk away from me. They explained how they thought I would have no protection from the media. My entire life has been a series of avoiding the press and also feeding them what I think they needed. It was all smoke and mirrors,” I explain. “The protection I thought I needed from them my entire life is exactly what's going to protect me now.”
His eyes are locked on mine rather than drifting down my naked body. I let myself imagine that I would have his full undivided attention even if he weren't tied to a chair and gagged.
“I gave them our story,” I continue. “You should really hear some of the conspiracy theories. I know if anything happens to me, shit will hit the fan. I don't know if we're a hundred percent safe, but I do know that we’re safer than we were. We don't have to run out or hide. We don't have to disappear.”
He tracks me to the other side of the room as I walk up to the table and grab a knife. His eyes widen for a second as I step closer to him, fear fighting with acceptance. Acceptance wins as if he thinks he hurt me so badly that I have every right to do the same to him.
But I know better. The emotional trauma I suffered from being rejected by him doesn't have a physical counterpart. The pain I endured the last three weeks can't be revenged by hurting him.
I cut away at his clothing, smiling when he tries to flinch away from the blade. It seems convincing of the mind and fighting that natural instinct to survive are two separate things.
“I've missed you these last three weeks,” I confess. “I've relived what we did in your house over and over.”
Groans mix with a gasp as I trace the tip of his cock with the blade of the knife. I'm so needy my hands are shaking, so I drop the knife. Despite what he might think, I don't want to hurt this man.