He nods.
I feel kind of dumb for not asking before now. It has been so crazy and hectic since the escape from The Retreat, it didn’t cross my mind.
I jump up, grabbing the pen and notepad to hand both over to him.
“Do you remember who you are?”
3 opens the notepad, writing down ‘No.’
“Okay, how long were you there? In The Retreat?” I continue.
He writes for a moment, then shows it to me.
‘As long as I can remember. I've never known anything except that place.’
Fuck. My poor Golden-Eyed Boy.
I deemed him that nickname when I first saw him, in The Morgue. He looked so small and helpless. The first thing I saw was his golden eyes.
“What did they do to you?”
He writes again, taking a moment to do so.
‘Torture, like you. Fight, give sexual favors. Though I’ve never had actual sex before.’
“Oh my God. I'm so sorry. So, you’re a virgin?”
3 nods once sharply.
I blow out a breath. “How do you feel about me?”
He smiles as he writes. ‘I love you, Phoenyxx. I want to be a part of whatever this is.’
“You love me? And want to join my other guys?”
“Y-yes,” 3 struggles.
“Oh, my Golden-Eyed Boy. I'm so proud of you.” I lean in to kiss him, which he eagerly returns. “I love you, too.”
Tears fill his eyes, and his hands move up to my throat, trailing down to my chest. His eyes dart between mine, looking for permission. I respond by placing his hands directly onto my breasts.
He moans, hands moving in wonder. One slips under my shirt, and wetness fills me as he tweaks a nipple. Before we can go any further though, the door flies open.
“What the fuck?” Synn marches in, grabbing 3 off the bed. “This is not happening. Got it?”
“Synn, listen to me. I care about him. I want him to join us.” I try to be patient, but this man pushes all my buttons.
Synn roars, tossing 3 back onto the bed. He points a finger at me. “Get your mind right, Pazessca. I'm going to the others. We will be back to discuss this.” He shoots a dirty look at 3. “Don’t fucking touch her again.”
Synn stomps out, slamming the door behind him.
I sigh heavily and apologize to 3. “Sorry about that. I'll talk to them, okay?” I get up, grabbing my clothes from the floor. “Go on back to our room. I'm going to grab us some food and talk to those cavemen idiots.”
I still insist on shoving current events to the back of my mind. It's easier for me to be my usual snarky self, instead of caving to vulnerability. It's my go-to when things get too heavy.
I pull on my clothes, hustling out the door.
I'm fucking starving and need coffee.
