I envision the dream behind my closed eyes; the nightmare that he twisted into something I can feelsafe in. The way his movements reflect the exact feelings of pleasure I’d found myself wrapped up in while feeling trapped to something I’ve never been able to explain.
And then, just like in the dream, a gust of light air falls over my face. I open my eyes to see that Trace is pulling back a bit. It was all him. Every single time this exact scenario played out, he was the reason. He pulled me from the threat of dying in those nightmares. He figured out a way to guide me to safety so rather than waking up with fear of the unknown, I would wake feeling . . . raptured.
His hands leave my breasts only to slide down my body just as normal just as he would when I’m dreaming. God, I hope he doesn’t stop. I want him to fucking touch me.
I hold immaculately still, even forcing myself to stop breathing as I feel his hand skate down my stomach, but he stops right before reaching the band of my pants and my body deflates.
Annoyance washes over me. Greed, frustration, admiration, anger, and confusion all find their way into my brain, fighting for purchase. But above all else, I feel desire. And in that desire, I feel broken and lost.
I watch as Trace walks away, not another word. But I can’t let him leave me. Not like this. Not after everything. I pull myself off the tree and try to catch my breath before stopping him.
“What did you mean when you said that the people who claim to love me are the ones feeding into this fucked up version of me, Trace?”
He doesn’t stop. I zip my jacket back up as I take a few stepsforward.
When he doesn’t answer me, I ask another question.
“What is it that you think I did to you?” I let my voice carry a little louder now, knowing that if I’m loud enough, someone might hear us. Maybe even Alli. But he still doesn’t stop walking away.
“Trace! Answer me damn it!”
This time, he finally stops but doesn’t turn to look at me. I take a few steps forward hoping to reach him.
“Forget about it, Olivia,” he says and my heart drops. He’sun-fucking-believable.
I storm up to him, pushing him in his back.
“No, Trace. Fuck that! If you plan to punish me for something you think I did, then punish me.” I push him again. “I’ll take it. But you have no right to treat me like I mean nothing to you if you can’t even tell me the fucking reason.” I push him again but doesn’t move.
But still, he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. And the dam breaks.
I reach my hands into my pocket, pulling out my rings. And as soon as I get them into place, I push him in the back one more time, this time using the hand with the spiked rings. I know it’s not much, but the slight jabs into his skin, even through the fabric of his clothes, causes him to turn around in anger. But before he can make a move on me, I grab him by his neck and back him up a few feet until his back hits a tree. He hisses on impact and then I squeeze his neck. Little drops of blood start to pebble down his skin, satisfaction swelling in my chest. I know he’s likely allowing me to handle him like this, but I don’t take the opportunity for granted.
I watch him smile sadistically at me as I lean up, stepping on the tips of my toes to press my lips to hisas I whisper, “I bet you wish I was on my knees for you the way I was earlier, withyourdick so far down my throat, I might gag, pretty boy. But I’m not just some fucking ragdoll you can toss around when you’re bored, Trace.” I lean back, watching his eyes turn from a prideful golden hue, to a dark honey, twisting with fury. Almost like looking into a dark abyss. A heated, harsh stare straight to my soul. A warning that I am playing with fire.
But I don’t care. Even if he’s letting me have him like this, I’m going to make myself very clear. I put my mouth to his ear, just like he’s done to me many times. And I dart my tongue out against his skin, licking the outline of his ear lobe.
Trace reaches a hand out and grips my hip. His fingers press deep into my skin, causing me to grind my jaw and squeeze my rings into his neck even harder.
“Do not provoke me, Olivia. I will make you fucking bleed if you think you can fuck with me.”
“Oh, but you’d like that though, wouldn’t you? That’s the kind of thing you’re into these days.” I swipe one of my fingers through the small trails of blood on his skin and bring it up to his mouth, smearing a little trace of his blood across his bottom lip.
I watch as he darts his tongue out, swiping it across the little taste of blood before letting go of my hip.
“You have no idea, Reckless.” His words scare me. I can’t even be sure why. But my blood runs cold even as something warm and tangible pulses between us. Regret. Wrath. Desire.
I decide to let him go, pulling my rings off his skin and stepping back. I look down at the ground for asecond before turning my back on him, but I don’t walk away.
Maybe it’s time to change gears just a little, to approach him in a different way.
“Did you know that I lost my memories from that night? Some of them anyway,” I say, something akin to hope lacing my tone. Hope that we can learn to understand each other in the missing years between us. Hope that he’ll let me the fuck in. Hope that we can stop whatever war we’re in.
But he doesn’t give in.
“I know you like to think you did,” he says and I turn around with confusion painted on my face.
“Are you fucking serious, Trace? You think I would pretend to not remember?”
