Page 180 of Terms of Exposure
And then there was nothing but the dark.
And the floating.
Chapter forty-one
Emma
Awareness returned in pieces.
First, warmth—something thick wrapped around my shoulders, cocooning me.
Then touch—a thumb stroking my cheek in slow, steady sweeps.
Then sound—a voice, low and tender, murmuring words I couldn't quite make out.
I blinked.
The world was blurry.
Soft at the edges.
Like looking through frosted glass.
"There she is."
Damien's face swam slowly into focus.
He sat cross-legged on the sheepskin rug, my head cradled gently in his hands.
At some point he'd lowered me down.
Unbound the ropes.
Wiped the drool from my chin.
The vibrator was gone.
Only the harness remained around my chest—loosened now, barely there—and the blanket wrapped aroundmy trembling body.
"Hey," he murmured, thumb tracing the curve of my cheek. "Welcome back."
I tried to speak. Nothing came out.
"Shh. Don't try to talk yet." He reached behind him and produced a water bottle, already uncapped. "Smalli sips. Slow."
He brought it to my lips, tilting gently, and I drank. The cool liquid soothed my ravaged throat, and I nearly moaned at the relief.
"Good," he whispered. "That's it. A little more."
I drank until he pulled the bottle away, setting it aside.
"How do you feel?"
How did I feel?
The question, impossibly complex.
I felt hollowed out.
