The mama bear shrugs. “You’re repressed.”
My brain is so fucking exhausting.
Thanks, ladies. Super helpful.
A slow breath slides from my lips, fogging in the cold air as I fight the pull of my own thoughts. But my mind, traitorous bitch that it is, imagines that touch again.
A feather-light brush along the curve of my shoulder, teasing lower.
A hand I can’t see tilting my chin, exposing my throat, commanding without words.
The heat that hits me this time?
Yeah, that’s not fear.
Not even close.
How the hell do you admit to yourself that something like that turns you on? That you’d welcome the hands of something unseen, something unknowable, something that could destroy you if it wanted to?
I groan in frustration, throwing my hands into the air as I stomp up the driveway.
When I step inside, I slam the door behind me and throw the locks twice before giving the handle a sharp tug.
Just to make sure.
Not that locked doors would do shit against invisible predators.
Leaning back against the wood, I stare into the darkness of my cozy cottage and mutter, “What the fuck is wrong with you, Aurora?”
I mean, on a normal day, there’s a lot wrong with me, but this is next-level fucked up.
With a sigh, I shrug off my hoodie and head into the kitchen. Louie follows at my heels, letting out a small whine—her way of reminding me it’s dinnertime.
When I set her food down, she doesn’t eat. She just stares at me. One deep chocolate eye. One unsettling, half-pale-blue, half-black eye. Unblinking and fixed.
Something cold and shapeless gnaws its way through my nerves, leaving a gut-slick, clammy smear across my insides. What now?
“What’s going on, Lou? You don’t like this food anymore?”
Louie lets out a soft woof, her fur bristling faintly as she tracks my every move.
I crouch beside her, running my fingers through the soft fur between her peaked ears. “Hey, everything’s okay, Lulu. Just a weird fucking night.”
She watches me for another long moment, then trots to her bowl and scarfs down her food.
Louie and I have been inseparable since I brought her home as a puppy. I’ve always talked to her, and even though she never answers, for obvious reasons, she listens.
She always listens.
When I’m sad, she curls up against me. When I’m happy, she yips and bounces. When I’m pissed, she bristles and growls, ready to carry the anger for me.
It’s almost like she understands me. Not just my emotions.Me.
But that’s crazy. She’s just a dog.
A really fucking smart dog.
Right?
