Page 209 of Somno Slave
The nights crash into me all at once after that. His mouth against mine. His hands. The weight of him leaning over me in the dark while my body opened for him like it already knew him.
My stomach twists violently.
No.
No no no—
My pulse starts hammering harder beneath my skin because suddenly I can see how impossible it sounds.
Heat floods my face so fast it burns.
Oh God.
What if he was never there?
The thought rips through me so brutally I nearly gag.
My breathing turns wet and uneven. Shame crashes through me so hard my vision pulses.
“No,” I whisper again, weaker this time.
But another thought arrives immediately after, sharp enough to cut through the panic.
He knew things. He did unexplainable things. He knew about the sound before it happened. He left fingerprints on me. He gave me a bracelet.
I freeze.
Where’s my bracelet?
I wrench my arm upward as far as the restraints allow. The breath leaves my lungs. A hospital identification band circles my wrist tightly enough to leave an angry red indentation beneath it. My name stares back at me in harsh black lettering beside a barcode and patient number.
A patient.
Not Doctor Ainsley.
Patient.
My stomach folds violently inward. The plastic crackles softly when I twist my wrist harder, staring at it like the words might rearrange themselves if I look long enough. My pulse starts climbing so fast my vision trembles around the edges.
My head jerks up suddenly toward Peter behind the glass.
“No.” My voice shakes harder now. “No, this can’t be happening! He’s real, Peter. He knew things he couldn’t have known. I’m not going crazy!”
My chest spasms around another breath.
“He needed me.” The words rush out desperately now, tripping over each other. “He told me things. He begged me to help him. He—”
My throat tightens.
I know people. I know lies. I know fear. I’ve built my entire life around pulling truth out of monsters.
“I can read people,” I choke out. “I know when someone’s telling the truth and he—”
“Jesus Christ.” Sean’s voice slices violently through the speaker. “Listen to yourself.”
Peter watches me carefully through the glass.
“No,” I breathe.
