Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I wasn’t thinking ofthissort of punishment. I wanted to get, well, flogged, or spanked, or something. Not shut into a cramped pitch black space.
Doesn’t Damien know I’m claustrophobic? Doesn’t he realize how traumatized getting buried under the ground was?
Maybe he does realize it, and he wants to claim that fear, transform it. Or maybe he has no clue.
Or maybe he really is that much of a sadist, and he wants to hurt me.
All three of those possibilities feel perfectly plausible. All three of those possibilities are Damien all over.
But what makes me nervous, beyond the cramped space, is that I didn’t smell him. I didn’t smell the scent of cologne.
And the hands felt… different.
But it all happened so quickly. I probably didn’t even get the chance to smell him or to understand what kind of hands were being clapped over my mouth.
Nonetheless, anxiety overwhelms me, even as I tell myself that it’s only Damien.
It’s only Damien. It’s only Damien. He won’t hurt me.
I force myself to repeat the words silently, to let them echo in my mind. I will them to relax me. But the panic creeps up, tasting bitter in my throat.
I hear the motor vibrate underneath me, and the car sets forward. I take a deep breath. Damien just wants to scare me, that’s all. He loves me, but he wants to scare me just like I scared him. Then we’re going to fuck again, and it’s going to be amazing.
But somehow, something feels wrong.Verywrong.
I start to hiccup with the need to cry, but my eyes are dry with fear. The words I repeat to myself over and over have no meaning anymore. The fear twists itself into something absolutely intolerable. A headache begins to beat at my temples, overpowering all other thought and sensation, and I wonder just how long I’ve been in this car.
The fact that I have no way to tell makes it even worse.
At last, the car stops. I hear the crunch of gravel as footsteps walk around the car. Then my heart practically stops in my chest.
It’s not just one pair of footsteps.
How is that possible? Have I misheard? But no. Like when I was stuck underground, I can’t see, I can’t move, I can’t do anything but smell and listen.
I smell the close air, the sweating leather, the thick lining of felt. Somewhere far away, pine trees, fresh air, an abstract sort of freedom.
And the sounds I hear, right now, are footsteps.Two pairs.
What the fuck is going on?
Did Damien bring along someone else? But no one was there. Did Logan somehow come in the three seconds between my getting placed in the trunk and the car driving off?
Or… is it not Damien who’s driving the car?
My breath strangles in my chest as that thought further implants itself in my mind. And a moment later, when the trunk is lifted, my worst fears come true.
It’s not Damien.
Instead, the two people who are peering down at me are none other than…
Gabriel and Aaron.
“What the fuck?” I say, but the words are spoken out loud now.
Gabriel smirks. “I see our little mute girl is not so mute anymore.”
