When. . .will he. . .fuck me?
Then, darkness swallowed me whole.
Chapter six
The Coronation
Listening Companion:
FKA twigs -Pendulum (Official Instrumental)
I woke in stages again, but this time, the moments didn't fit together the same way.
My body felt different—heavier, hotter, like my blood had been replaced with molten honey while I slept. The obsession Rook had planted in my veins had taken root, spreading tendrils through my nervous system, rewiring my cells to crave him.
Someone had cleaned me while I slept.
I could feel it—the absence of dried slick on my thighs, the faint scent of soap mingling with the lingering musk of sex.
My skin felt fresh, tended to.
Yet, the soreness between my legs remained, a delicious ache that reminded me of what his mouth had done, but the evidence had been washed away.
He bathed me.
The thought sent a strange warmth through my chest. This man—this killer, this monster—had cradled my unconscious body and cleaned the aftermath of my pleasure from my skin. Had touched me with tenderness while I was vulnerable and unaware.
It should have disturbed me. The intimacy of it. The violation of being handled without consent.
Instead, my traitorous body flushed with heat at the image of his hands moving over me, gentle and possessive, caring for what belonged to him.
Another hit of the drug. Another way he's made me need him.
I shuddered.
Where am I now?
The ceiling above me was different.
No soft padding.
No quilted white walls.
This ceiling was industrial. Metal tiles stained with rust. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
I tried to move.
I couldn't.
My wrists were cuffed to the sides of a metal table—cold, hard, unforgiving. Not the velvet-lined restraints from before.
These were medical restraints.
The kind they used when they needed a patient to be absolutely still.
The kind they used for procedures.
I turned my head, scanned the space quickly, and my stomach dropped.
