That’s a lie. I very much know.
The memory of the suckers around my nipple flashes like damn high beams, and I suck in a breath to forget about it, but it’s too late. It’s there. It’s so vivid. So is the way his cock hardened, how his cum dripped on me.
That near-death lethargy creeps back up on me for entirely different reasons. I can barely get my body to comply with my demands to extract myself from the memory and the feel of his solid warmth around me.
Next comes the exhaustion, the crushing weight of months of running without pause, years of pain under pretty hands. His tentacles don't hurt.Hedoesn’t hurt. I miss knowing what it feels like to endure the touch of another person without fear of leaving with bruises on my skin.
Ordus eases the rest of him over to me, curling his tentacles tighter as he crouches to avoid hitting the roof. Tentatively, he slowly holds a hand out to cup my jaw.
And I let him.
I don’t know why I let him.
I can’t even begin to explain why I lean into his touch, why my eyes drift shut to focus on the feel of his warm skin against mine. The tips of his claws scrape the edge of my jaw. A shiver goes down my spine, and not an unpleasant one.
Maybe it’s the effects of dehydration. Maybe it’s the weight of history.
He’s a beast of a man. I’ve watched him kill three people in under a minute. He crushed their skulls, ripped apart their limbs, made them bleed for what they did to me.
I still remember the cold panic on his face when he noticed the few cuts on my feet. The manic rage when someone hurt me. The unbridled jealousy when a guy approached me at the bar.
I’m not afraid of him. He won’t intentionally harm me.
His expression is bewildering. I can’t pinpoint it. It borders on awe and betrayal and something else entirely. Unease churns in me. My breath catches, waiting for him to make the first move. What if he decides to drag me back to the island? What if he thinks I’ve consumed enough, and he’ll be giving me the bare minimum for survival from here on out?
Ordus never indicated he would do it, but it’s not like I haven’t missed signs before.
He breathes hard through his nose. “Are you mated already?”
A tremor works down my spine. “What?” How does he know about Tommy? Apart from the pictures of me and Dad, there shouldn’t be anything in this house pointing to that demon.
His nostrils flare and his eyes darken. “A male was here.”
A ma—? Fear sinks from my stomach down to my feet, twisting and churning. The food and drinks turn into bile.
“H-how do you know?” Dread seeps into my bloodstream like poison.
“I smell him.”
No, no, no.
“Let go of me,” I rasp.
Ordus hesitates. He must sense my panic, because he quickly releases me.
I scramble for my workroom in search of my laptop. It isn’t here. Fuck. Where did I put it? I tip the laundry off the couch, then try my bedside tables before moving to my go bags.
It’s not there. Neither are my passports.
He’s found me. Tommy’s found me.
Fuck.
I rip open the curtains. Where the hell is the car?
My feet thud against the tile as I scramble outside. Why are the wheels missing from my bike?
My phone. I need to check my phone.
