Too many fucking nights, I fought for my life against whatever vile creature was placed in the pit to torment me.
Too many fucking times, I assumed the blame and became the aggressor so that I would be thrown into the pit instead of one of the other students. Because I knew I could survive it.
Too many times, I used my fists because they were all I had.
My fists were all I had to stop the other students from flickering. Violence became a rescue. To the point where the other students would look to me for it, desperate for me to dish it out because I was the only one physically strong enough to knock a flickering body unconscious.
I squeeze my eyes closed. Tell myself to breathe.
All this fucked-up shit I thought I’d worked through—all of it is streaming back at me, derailing me because of this claustrophobic, dank tunnel.
I can beat it.
I have more than violence now.
With a snarl, I yank my hand inward, daring the darkness to come for me. Daring it to come for my heart and my mind.
I’ll fight it. With whatever it takes.
The moment the stone closes over, the light changes behind my closed eyelids, the rock at my back suddenly feels smooth, and the pressure against my chest is different.
Warm. Soft. Gentle.
Immensely comforting after the fear I felt.
“Striker?” Tender fingertips brush my jaw. “Wake up.”
I recognize Peyton’s voice, and my heart leaps.
Opening my eyes, I find myself lying on my back, tangled in smooth sheets.
Peyton’s warm body presses to mine. She’s draped over me, her eyes luminescent, her lips curved in a smile.
“Hey there,” she murmurs, her brown hair falling past her face and tickling my chin.
I’m disoriented for a heartbeat, uncertain how I got here, but it quickly passes.
I recognize our room at the Academy. We’re staying here right now, a vacation away from work or… something. I can’t quite remember exactly…
“It’s morning,” Peyton says, kissing my lips, and I’m suddenly aware of how naked she is, the softness of her bare skin where my arms rest around her. The way her eyes close and her smile grows when I run my hands along her spine and tangle my fingers gently in her hair. “Lucinda said she’d show us the new obstacle course this morning.”
“Fuck the obstacle course,” I growl, my arms tightening around Peyton’s unclothed form, my palms caressing her skin, my consciousness of her body rising. “It can wait.”
Her lips clash with mine as her breasts graze across my chest and her moan sends all rational thought from my mind.
She pulls back just enough to speak. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Then her mouth meets mine again, her kiss tearing apart my sense of time and space.
Why does it feel like forever since I’ve touched her?
My perception of where I am and my immediate memories tell me that we spent the entire night together, most of it spentnotsleeping.
My knowledge of her body feels intense. Every soft part of her that makes her gasp or moan or scream with pleasure. Every touch and stroke that she welcomes, every move she makes to draw me closer, the way she wraps her legs around me, straddling me, her back arching as she delays taking me inside her.
And yet…
I feel like I don’t know her at all.
