I grin and shrug innocently. “He has a swim meet today, and he might get a little sleepy, that’s all.”
Her mouth drops. “Rev, you drugged him?”
I shrug again, the corners of my lips stretching wider.
“You’re going to give me all the fucking details, you hear me?” she orders, pointing a finger at me. “But first, I need to clean this shit up.”
She turns her attention to the mess Rogue and Severen made while I avert my stare to the first thing it lands on, which is the large tote bag by my door, various cleaning bottles, paper towels, and what looks like a roll of thick garbage bags peeking out from the top. I suspect it’s also filled with sponges and rags, too.
It becomes the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen, because if I look to where Sable is currently inspecting, I won’t see a chopped-up dummy, but someone entirely different.
But I’m not really in the mood for Georgia Farrell’s ghost paying me any visits tonight.
CHAPTER 5
DREAD
Five seconds.
That's all I get to enjoy the blissful heaviness weighing my body down after waking from the deepest sleep I’ve ever had. On the sixth second, a pressing emptiness creeps in—except the weight of it is fucking crushing. I sit up so quickly, I crack my hip, my eyes whipping around the room in search of her.
Fuck.
She’s gone.
I’m immediately fucking pissed.
I’m not sure what infuriates me more—that I didn’t wake up when she did, or that I was more affected than her and slept like a goddamn rock.
I’ve no idea how long ago she left, but it doesn’t matter.
She was awake.
In my fucking room.
While I was dead to the world.
And that has my skin crawling.
I reach for my phone, note the time as seven o’clock, then turn on my camera to inspect myself, ensuring she didn’t pull some stupid shit and draw on my face with the Sharpie.
Once I find nothing, I study every inch of my room to see if there’s anything amiss, searching for even the smallest of changes. But I find nothing, and my suspicions deepen.
I can’t recall a single moment when Reverie hasn’t struck back after I fucked with her, or at least found some way to piss me off all over again. She’s a cancerous cell that keeps growing back.
So I don’t trust for a single moment that she justleft.
I must’ve accidentally clicked the gallery in the corner of the camera app, because when I glance back at my phone, I’m met with the picture I took last night.
The effect is instantaneous.
Lava replaces every blood cell in my body, warming my insides to catastrophic levels. My dick swells, hardening to the point of pain, and my mouth waters.
Exhaling harshly, I settle back on both elbows, tip my head back, and close my eyes, attempting to erase the image from my mind—except it’s burned into the backs of my fucking retinas. Even in the dark, I can see her beautiful tits, her blonde hair splayed across my pillow, her half-lidded eyes peering up at me from beneath her bangs while I licked that tear from her cheek.
Any rational thought boils and dissipates into smoke. My free hand roughly shoves down my sweatpants before fisting my cock, a low groanreleasing from my throat at the acute sensation as I slowly stroke from base to tip.
“Fuck,” I hiss through clenched teeth, dropping my chin to my chest and returning my gaze to the picture.
