Page 66 of Devious Obsession
My brain’s firing too slow for this. Am I dreaming? Am I that fucked up that I would dream about him coming to carry me away?
For the last time, Aspen, he’s not your knight in shining armor.
And yet, I can’t get that stupid image out of my head.
A door clicks behind us, and it takes a second to register that my eyes have closed again. Another door, and my stomach swoops. I’m being lowered, positioned, and yet my muscles are jelly. I really don’t even care where I’m going right now in my dream world.
It would be a better dream if I could open my eyes all the way.
Heat blasts onto me, and my body shifts with my seat’s movement. It’s not bad either. In fact, it lulls me to sleep again.
Wait…
Can you sleep in a dream?
The next thing I know, I’m in a bed.
It’s soft. Warm. And exactly how I was when I went to sleep next to my roommate.
See, brain? You were just dreaming about Steele, when you’re really still next to Thalia.
I sigh and roll over. My arms are above my head, and they get all twisted with the movement. My eyes crack open, and I stare up at my bound wrists, although it’s so dark, it’s hard to see what’s six inches in front of my face. Another minute passes while I try to catch up to what’s happening.
Why would Thalia tie me up?
I blink and try to lick my lips, but something is in the way. Hard plastic between my teeth, keeping my jaw open.
A flash of fear storms through me like lightning, obliterating the last of the drunken haze.
Nothing will wake you up quite like adrenaline.
I swallow and attempt to sit up. Something holds me fast around my ankles.
Okay.
Okay, okay, okay.
I let out a little noise. A whimper in the back of my throat.
The room is dark, and it’s silent, and I’m definitely not in Thalia’s room, that’s for sure. I pull at my wrists, my ankles, but I’ve got no leverage. When I spread my legs, something clicks—and then I can’t shut them again.
Fuck.
I close my eyes and will myself to ignore the panic welling in my chest. Breathing deep only gets me so far before I revert right back to shallow huffs through the gag.
It takes me too long to register that I’m naked. That when the air moves, it brushes against my bare skin. That there’s nothing hiding me from whoever walks through the door.
Whatever door it happens to be.
This isn’t fun anymore.
This isn’t a game.
I squeeze my eyes shut, blocking out the burning sensation and the lump in my throat. Instead of twenty-year-old Aspen, I’m a kid again. Trapped exactly like this, with only my heartbeat keeping me company. Waiting for the door to open and my nightmares to begin.
Or continue. Because they never reallystopped, not back then.
I like to be in control. I like to beoutof control with an emergency stop button. I like it to bemy choice—and this isn’t that. My childhood wasn’t that either.
