I started all of this when I killed O’Malley and set Dash free. And no, I don’t regret it, andyes, I would totally do it again, but that’s not the point. I feel bad for stirring up the shit pot for everyone else.
Trevel hates Lem for leaving him behind, then helping The Ivory get him here. Byron hates me for killing his friend and making his other friends like me…
God, what a mess.
I understand why they’re upset. And because I’m a psychopathic monster myself, I have to give them props for attacking us the way they have. I don’t blame them one bit.
But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I can’t stand being strapped to this bed, tied up here like a helpless wimp when the love of my damn life is out there, possibly hurt or in trouble. I know Lem can handle himself, but still.
It’s been too quiet in this mansion, despite the occasional voices from outside, rushing around and shouting.
Where is everyone…?
What’s going on?
How the hell can I break through these stupid ropes??
I keep wiggling my wrists, fighting against the burn because I know these ropes are silk and if I keep moving, eventually I’ll slip free.But it’s taking too long, goddammit!
“Fuck, Lemuel…” I whine, my eyelids growing heavy. “Where are you, baby?”
I yawn. “Please be… alright.”
I yawn again.
Oh, crap.
I think I’m losing oxygen to my brain. The belt is cutting off my airflow.
If I pass out, then I’ll really be useless.
Working my wrists over and over, I feel my movements slowing. It’s happening…
So… sleepy…
I think I hear footsteps in the distance. Inside the mansion, maybe even on this floor.
The sound is so quiet, I could be imagining it. I can’t tell if I’m awake or dreaming, but someone is… coming closer.
I’m drifting off as the door to the bedroom opens, a shadowy figure peering inside.
And now I’m certain I’m hallucinating. Because it looks like anangelis coming to save me.
“Tell Want… I love him…” My vision blurs as the ethereal being appears at my bedside.
“You’re gonna tell him yourself,” a melodious male voice whispers, unbuckling the belt from around my neck.
Slumping over, I suck in air, blinking again and again. I’m still uncertain that this person untying me is real.He certainly looks like someone you’d dream up…
Gorgeous, with shiny, shoulder-length hair the color of creamy coffee, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. Like a high-fashion model, though he looks wet, and a bit disheveled, as if he’d been out in the storm.He smells good, though…
Not to mention he’s wearing a negligee. Black silk and lace, it really shows off the definition in his body.
Though it suddenly occurs to me that I’m assuming pronouns, which isn’t cool.
I blink up at the person who’s ripping the ropes off me, sitting beside me on the bed. Sparkling green gaze set on my face.
