Heat prickles along my skin, from the apex of my thighs to my toes, and the feeling makes my legs press together. There’s no way a candle could cause such a physical reaction.
A low, knowing chuckle vibrates right in front of me, and it pounds in my ears before trailing off with an echo. I squeeze my eyes shut, noticing that the rhythm matches the sensation suddenly brewing in my chest. What the hell’s happening to me?
Get a grip, Emmy.
When something hot and thick oozes over the top of my thigh, a yelp spills from my lips and into the darkness. The syrupy liquid slides down the inside of my leg, hot enough to make me squirm. It takes a second to place the sensation—candle wax.
My breathing turns shallow, my pulse racing. The tingles only intensify; the softest needle points running from my fingertips to my toes, and my skin is flushed with an awareness I don’t understand.
I want to give in to the feeling. Everything in me screams to submit to it entirely. Like I’ve been drugged, it’s a thick, black tar wrapping around my skin, hot and heavy beneath the surface.
A rush of sensitivity flows over me like an electric current, making each rub of the ties around my wrists burn enough to sting. Black and grey shadows meet my eyes no matter where I look, flashingdangerin my mind like a glowing sign.
I twist and writhe against the binding, but it just digs and digs. I swear the walls are caving in on me, crushing my chest until I have to open my mouth to suck in a lungful of air.
What has he done to me?Couldhe have drugged me without my knowledge? Oh god, was it in my freaking food? With nothing to compare the feeling to, I have no idea.
I need to get these things off me.
I need to gaincontrolbefore my chest collapses in on itself.
Squinting, palms sweating, I angle my head toward the outline that is Raife. I can’t make out his expression as he saunters behind me. Cool fingers brush my neck as he gathers my hair and wrenches it over my left shoulder.
“Just let go,” he continues, his voice ringing in my ears even when the words stop. “Show me who you are, Emmy Highland.”
Show him who I am? I don’t know about all that. I don’t know if even I’ve seen who I really am.
But maybe I can show him who he wants to see.
