Oh my god, I let him pick out my underwear and then help me put them on. I just stood there and let him dress me. I let him dress me after I let him undress me. I let him lift me into the tub and wash me.
Reality rushes in on me like the black hole that’s been surrounding me has collapsed, and everything I’ve let happen today is being sucked back into me at a million miles an hour. “What is happening right now?” I gasp.
“We’re in my Daher TBM 900, cruising at an altitude of just below thirty thousand feet. We should be landing in Bozeman in about forty-five minutes,” Knight says succinctly, like he’s making a report.
Squeezing my eyes tightly closed, I inhale slowly, filling my lungs with air, then exhale it out again. Repeating the action twice more, I slowly open my eyes, expecting to find myself waking up on the uncomfortable bed at my Airbnb, and realizing that Knight, the tub, and the plane were all just a dream. Only as my lids part, all I see is bright blue sky and the eternity of nothingness ahead of us through the plane’s window.
It’s all real. I really am on a plane right now. Knight really did show up at my door. He really did tell me I’m his, and he really did bathe me, dress me, and then take my hand and lead me away from everything that’s happened in the last few months, like he was the key to making everything better.
My thoughts are racing, but Knight’s presence glows bright, but intense and calm, beside me. Turning my head, I look at him. He’s a gorgeous man. His hair is dark with streaks of gray starting to show here and there. It’s not exactly styled, but trimmed short in a military cut that isn’t exactly fashionable, but suits him. His skin is tan but smooth, with only a few lines at the sides of his eyes. His lips are almost pouty, his features austere,and he’s more rugged than beautiful. Manly. If we were animals, he’d be the alpha.
As if sensing I’m staring at him, he turns and looks at me, his blue eyes, the color of the cloudless sky ahead of us, settle on me, and the burning intensity of them drags all the oxygen from the air, making me feel like I can’t breathe.
“What happened to your pinball table?” he asks without preamble, his jaw clenching, changing his entire demeanor from placid to lethal and cold in the blink of an eye.
I consider lying to him because part of me doesn’t want to tell him what really happened. I don’t know if that’s because admitting what happened out loud will make me cry, or because I’m worried telling him will only exacerbate how dumb I already feel.
“Abel, my ex, destroyed it.” The words are out before I can stop myself.
“Accidentally?” Knight asks slowly.
“No,” I whisper, ashamed to admit it.
“I see,” he says, the two words sounding so dangerous that goose bumps pebble my skin. “I’ll deal with it.”
“Deal with what?”
“Everything,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.
“What is happening?” I ask with a self-deprecating scoff. “I feel like I’m going to wake up in a minute, and this will all have been a dream.”
“I’d like you to dream about me,” he says straight-faced, his tone even with no hint of teasing.
“It means you’re mine, Doll, and I’m taking you home.”
His words whisper in my mind, taunting me with undeniable proof that everything that’s happened this morning is very real. “What you said about me being yours. What did you mean?” Iask, unable to stop myself, even though I think I already know the answer.
Rockhead Point is a weird town. Something happens to the people who live there, and it’s either an ancient magic or a dangerous chemical leak, but something messes with the inhabitants, tricking them into relationships that likely never would have happened anywhere else in the country.
“You’re mine, Doll,” Knight tells me again.
His voice is so serious, so sure, that I can’t find the words to disagree with him. So instead, I snap, “You know that my name is not actually Doll, don’t you?”
He literally called me Octavia two minutes ago, so I know he knows my name. But I’m confused and overwhelmed, and I have no idea how to process everything that’s happened so far today and why I’m not freaking out. Being an asshole to him feels easier than addressing the fact that his claiming me doesn’t feel as wrong as it should.
“Your name is Octavia Ruth Hodkins. Your birthday is August 30. You’re twenty-three years old. Your style is gothic Lolita, but sometimes you lean more toward gothic, and other times you like to shock people by wearing bright colors. You’re a talented tattoo artist and a good friend. You lost your dad in a car accident when you were a child, and your mom six years ago to cancer. You have an older brother who lives in Australia, but consider your friends as closer family than him,” Knight states, like he’s reading the information from a file.
Blinking, I stare at him as he recites facts about me like we’ve known each other for a lifetime, not like we’ve only spoken to each other a couple of times.
“How do you know all of that?” I breathe.
“You’re very active and open on social media.”
“You follow me on social media?” I can hear the shock in my own voice, but honestly, Knight doesn’t strike meas the type of man who spends a lot of time posting #feelingcutemightdeletelater pictures on the internet.
“Yes.”
Why is he so calm when I feel like there’s a tornado gathering speed inside my chest? His words are bold and possessive and intense, but his voice is so neutral that I almost want to shout at him just to make the point that his going to the effort of following me on my socials isn’t just…normal.
