Frayed Obsession, page 11
Grace’s room?
She’s not a guest. She doesn’t live here. She’s only here for one reason, and when it’s done…
… she’s gone.
So why am I thinking about things as hers?
Shaking my head, I grip the door frame hard—the alcohol coursing through my veins overshadowing all the reasons I shouldn’t be looking for her again. Would she even want to see me? Would she kiss me again?
Fuck, that’s not what this is about, but why is it all I can think about? There’s no way she’s going to do anything to me after I kissed her, then left with no explanation. At least nothing I would like. This whole situation has turned to shit, and all it took was a day. How are we going to last a week or longer?
I’m still trying to talk myself out of finding her when my wandering gaze finds the empty bed, the sheets still neat and unslept in. Pushing the door open further, my hand tightens around the frame when I see the empty chair by the window and the open bathroom door with only darkness beyond.
What time is it?
I try to read the time on my watch but give up when the hands keep spinning faster than could be right, or maybe it’s my head that’s doing the spinning.
The kitchen is dark as well, but a soft glow illuminates from the lamp in the lounge room, so I turn that way.
Empty.
My heart lurches in my chest.
No. She wouldn’t have.
My gaze sweeps the room, and I spot Shadow curled up asleep on the floor. He’s barely left her side since I brought her here, where—
“Motherfucker,” I hiss as a sharp pain radiates through my big toe. I catch myself on the side of the bastard couch and breathe through the pain.
Where the fuck are my shoes?
I don’t remember taking them off, and a growl rumbles in my throat at the sheer annoyance of stubbing my goddamn toe.
Shadow’s face appears before mine, clearly woken by my outburst. I rest my forehead against his, letting his presence calm me down.
“Tell me she didn’t run,” I whisper.
My chest aches, the pain leaking through the cracks that have already formed around my heart. I don’t know why she affects me so much or why I can see her dark blue eyes so clearly when mine are shut. Regardless of how long I’ve known her, I shouldn’t feel like this.
Shadow licks my face before turning away. I straighten my back from the hunched position I landed in, using my arms to push off the side of the couch, glaring at it the whole time. The rational, sober part of me knows I’m being ridiculous, but the well-past-intoxicated me wants to burn it so I never have to look at it again.
Shadow stands a few steps away, staring off at something. I follow his line of sight, but there’s nothing there. He looks at me again, then focuses back on the empty space with only the large windows and closed balcony door separating us from the cold night.
My gaze lingers on the sliding door, and that sensation of being pulled towards something, someone, reignites inside me. I glance at Shadow again and start to move towards the door. My steps are slow and measured, belying the pounding of my heart and the whiskey flowing through my veins. I stop in front of the glass door but make no move to open it while I strain my eyes through the darkness, lit dimly by the lights of the surrounding city.
There.
A small figure is curled up on one of the chairs, a blanket wrapped around their body. Grace’s head is titled back to the midnight sky. I can’t tell if her eyes are open, but I imagine they are.
It’s not a full moon tonight, but as the clouds shift, allowing it to shine brighter, my focus is torn. It’s been so long since I allowed myself to sit under the glow, letting my worries cower under her light.
There was a time, in the cold and dark when my only guardian was the moon in the sky. Without her, I’m sure the shadows would have consumed me long ago.
Grace tilts her head towards the opening in the clouds, and the shift allows the glow to illuminate part of her face. I suck in a breath at the raw emotion in her expression. She looks so young and lost.
This is what I wanted. To see underneath. Except now, I feel like an intruder—someone not worthy of something so significant, but I can’t make myself leave.
I raise my palm to the cool glass, but even though every fibre of my being wants to open this door and pull her into my arms, I don’t.
I can’t.
She opened up to me, and I took advantage. I took what I wanted, then left her there because I couldn’t deal with my own messed-up head. But as the moon shines down on her, revealing her bare truths, I consider that maybe now the night sky isn’t the only place I can find light in the darkness.
Twenty-five years ago…
My little legs struggle to keep up with Mama’s fast walk, and I squeeze her hand tighter, so she doesn’t let go and leave me behind. I don’t know where we’re going, but it must be important to be in such a hurry.
We stop in front of a large building, and Mama pulls me up the steps. She presses a button on the wall, but when nothing happens, she presses it again and again.
“Come on, please,” she talks to herself. Her hand is wet and shaky in mine, making it hard to hold on tight.
There’s a buzzing sound before the door swings open, and a large man stands in the entry. He wears jeans with a hole in the knee and a white sleeveless top with dirty marks. His belly hangs over the jeans, and a bad smell makes me screw my nose up.
Sometimes Mama has strange men in our apartment, but she always locks me in my room until they leave. I don’t know what they do, but sometimes Mama makes sounds like she’s hurting, and I wish I were bigger so I could open the door and stop the bad men from hurting her.
She’s always different after they leave, but sometimes, she keeps me in my room for too long until I’m so hungry my tummy hurts and my pants become uncomfortable.
The man in the doorway scratches the dirty hair on his chin as he looks at Mama up and down. I frown at the man, not liking how he looks at her. She mustn’t like it either because her hand shakes harder.
My back straightens as high as it can, and I step closer to Mama.
“What do you want?” the man asks in a deep voice, his eyes still lingering on Mama’s body.
“J-Jimmy sent me,” she says.
The man bites his lip before saying, “You got the cash?”
Mama’s entire body trembles, making my hand shake with hers, and she fidgets with the bottom of her top with her other hand. “Jimmy and I had an arrangement,” she says in a wobbly voice.
“I don’t give a shit what you had. No cash, no deal.”
“Please… I can’t. I… I need it.” Mama rubs at her arms where I’ve seen the sore spots. She says they’re from her medicine, so she doesn’t get too sick, but I don’t like that it hurts her. “I’ll do anything,” she says when he doesn’t answer straight away.
The man licks his lips, and his eyes darken at Mama’s response. I tug on her hand, trying to pull us away from this place. Mama looks down at me but doesn’t step away. The man’s eyes copy her and land on me, filling with disgust as if he only just noticed I was here too. I glare back at him and hope he will leave us alone.
“No kids,” he says roughly.
Mama looks at the man and back to me with a worried look in her eyes. “He won’t be a problem, I swear.”
“No. Kids.”
Mama chews on her lip. “What am I supposed to do with him?” Her voice sounds sad, and I try to tug her arm again.
The man looks around the small platform and to the dusty short street behind us. “He’ll be fine here,” the man says, his face harsh but with a glimmer of something unknown in his eyes.
My heart starts beating faster, a rapid pitter-patter in my chest as she lets go of my hand and crouches down so we are the same height. She grasps my face between her hands, and I can’t help but feel like something bad is happening. Her skin is pale and sweaty, and her eyes have dark circles underneath them.
She looks really sick.
My breath comes too fast, and my chin wobbles.
Does the man have Mama’s medicine? Is that why we are here?
“Can you be a good boy for Mama?”
I want to be good, but even though I try to be brave, I feel tears sting my eyes, trying to escape. “I want to go home,” I whisper, feeling some of them slip free.
“Oh baby, please don’t cry.” Her eyes fill with water as she wipes her thumbs under my own and pats my hair. She pulls me to her chest, and my fists grasp onto her, not willing to let go, but too soon, she pulls away, holding my face in front of hers again. “I promise I’ll be back before you know it.” She taps my nose with her finger.
“Hurry up or leave,” the man growls, and I jump at the harsh tone.
“Can you be a good boy?” Mama asks, and I nod, not wanting to let her down. “Promise me you’ll stay right here and wait for me, Sebastian. Don’t go anywhere else. I won’t be long.”
I try to find words, but none come, so I nod again.
Mama kisses the top of my head and stands up.
As soon as she’s up, the man grabs her arm roughly and pulls her to him. “Enough of this,” he says and starts to pull her into the building. Mama doesn’t fight him, even though his hand squeezes her arm enough to go red.
I don’t want Mama to go with him. I go to step towards them, maybe she’ll change her mind, but his glare freezes my bones.
Mama turns back before they disappear through the doorway and pauses. “What if he gets cold?”
The man’s face twists in anger at the delay, and he looks at my thin t-shirt and old jeans. “You won’t be gone long enough for him to feel it,” he spits.
She swallows hard, and there’s sadness in her eyes. Just when a tiny spark of hope lights up in me that she’ll let us go home, the man tugs on her arm, slamming the door behind them, then she’s gone.
My whole body shivers at the cold air wrapping itself around me like an ice blanket. I don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for Mama to come back. My legs hurt from standing and the cold. I really need to wee. Mama says I’m old enough to be using the grown-up toilet, but I can’t always make it even though I try.
The sun Is starting to disappear, and cars go up and down the road past this small street, but I can’t leave. I promised Mama.
More shivers attack my body, and I run down the step and head for two large containers. I manage to squeeze my small body in between them, letting them block some of the wind.
Mama told me not to move. I don’t want to be bad, but it’s so cold. The man said she would be back before I feel it, but she’s still gone. I can see the door and the stairs from here, though, so I’ll know when she comes back. Hopefully, she won’t be mad at me.
I curl myself into the tightest ball I can make as nighttime replaces the day. I can still hear some cars driving past on the street nearby but not as many as before.
Fat tears roll down my face, blurring my eyes, and I try to wipe them away in case I miss Mama.
The shadows start to move, and I swear they’re coming towards me. I screw my eyes shut, but when nothing attacks me, I peek out of one eye. A soft light shines down on me, chasing the shadows away, and I tilt my head to the sky. The moon, so big and bright, lights up the sky, making it look blue instead of black. I should be looking out for Mama, but I can’t take my eyes off the light.
I don’t want to see the shadows clawing at the edge of my protective circle, so I keep my eyes on the moon until they get heavy.
I hope Mama finds me before the light disappears and the shadows come back again.
A buzzing sound penetrates my ears, and I groan as it vibrates through my pulsing head. The buzzing stops for only a second before starting again. I slap my sluggish arm around, trying to find whatever is making the noise, but it only makes contact with tangled sheets.
Peeling my eyes open, I squint into the mostly dark room. The buzzing continues, and I spot the flashing light from my phone on the bedside table as it vibrates with an incoming call.
Fragments of the night before start to come back to me in flashes, but one memory plants itself right in the forefront of my mind.
The kiss.
My heart kicks up a beat, as well as something else, and I adjust the tightness in my slacks as every detail is replayed to me. I don’t know whether to be relieved or irritated that I remember everything about it—how she felt, the sounds she made. Groaning, I press my hand against my hardening dick, adding pressure as the images play out in my mind. She’d fit so perfectly against me, and through the haze of alcohol still lingering in my veins, I can imagine her here with me now—her body on top of mine, my tongue in her mouth, exploring every inch of her. Her taste feeds a craving I wasn’t aware existed inside me, and I drink in every bit of her as I can. She moves on top of me, her core rubbing against my cock as pressure builds low in my belly. I want to see her lose control—to be so consumed with pleasure that her mask shatters.
Before the fantasy can play out, another vision cuts through. One of Grace on the balcony, the moonlight exposing her vulnerability, and my chest tightens.
My phone stops vibrating for a second and promptly starts again for the hundredth time. Fuck me.
My head spins as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, and the room tilts as I try to focus.
With a bang, the door to my room flies open, followed by heavy steps. There’s a pause before—
“Why the fuck aren’t you answering your phone?”
I wince, each word like a hammer to my skull. “What time is it?” My voice comes out hoarse and feels like nails scraping along the inside of my throat. I’m still trying to sort through the haziness when a thought occurs to me, and my eyes snap up to Easton’s. “Did you find him?”
He frowns until a flicker of understanding crosses his eyes. “No,” he says but doesn’t elaborate. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
The quick dismissal irritates me. “I was asleep. Why are you here at the crack of dawn if it’s not because you have him?”
“I was making sure you’re not fucking dead,” he says, his tone sharp. “It’s hardly early for you, and you wouldn’t answer your phone.” He crosses his arms over his chest and pins me with his dark gaze like I’m in the fucking wrong here.
“Clearly, I’m not dead.” I rub a hand down my face, barely containing my annoyance, and push off the bed. I collect my phone from the bedside table, feeling Easton’s eyes on me, but I ignore him. The screen lights up, flashing the time.
Six-thirteen.
I groan and send a glare his way. Of course, I’m usually up by now, but I could’ve done with another hour, half an hour even, while still getting to work at a reasonable time. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so close to the death Easton’s seemingly so concerned about.
“You look like shit,” he says, narrowing his eyes at my rumpled shirt and pants from yesterday. “What happened last night?”
“Nothing,” I say, my voice almost too harsh. I don’t even understand what happened last night. There’s no way I’m telling him that I kissed her.
“Bullshit. How much did you drink?” He raises a brow, clearly smelling the alcohol I’m sure is seeping from my pores.
I unbutton my shirt without responding, throwing it on the bed, and make my way to the bathroom.
“Are you limping?” He grabs my arm, halting my escape, his fingers digging into my bicep.
The dull ache in my toe becomes more pronounced at his words, and I wouldn’t be surprised if something was fractured in there. “I kicked my toe into the goddamn couch. Nobody tried to kill me.”
His nostrils flare, and I narrow my eyes back at him.
Do I usually drink a whole bottle of whiskey on a work night? No.
Am I going to tell him why I was walking around drunk in the middle of the night? Not a fucking chance.
We hold each other’s stare, neither of us backing down, but when I pull away, he lets me go.
“If you’re going to stay, at least be useful and make some coffee,” I say and slam the bathroom door shut behind me.
God knows I’ll need it.
Chapter Eighteen
Emery
My eyes snap open as I wake with a cry that’s cut off by the bruising hand around my neck. Clawing at his arm to no avail, I try to throw him off me, to escape the crushing weight that’s cutting off my air even more.
“Scream for me,” he says against my lips as he shoves his other hand under my nightgown, finding the tender spot between my legs. Loosening his hold around my throat, he thrusts a thick finger into me, and the scream he wants so badly lodges in my throat, my breath rattling out through the space he opened by adjusting his control of my airway.
Please, no…
With a sigh, he adds another finger, his movements becoming rougher, and a strangled whimper leaves me.
“We can play this game all you like, Emery, but we both know you’ll give me what I want eventually.”
My nails scratch at his arm. I know I’ve broken through the skin when his breath rumbles out of his throat, and he rips his hand away from my neck. I try to scramble back, away from the fingers assaulting me, but his weight is still too heavy. Only seconds later, his hand is back, clasping my chin in a tight hold, and another whimper escapes me. “You know what happens when you draw blood,” he says, his voice low enough that I realise I’ve screwed up.
His fingers disappear from between my legs, giving me a moment’s reprieve, but my chest rises and falls at a rapid pace knowing it won’t last long. There’s some rustling before he hikes my nightgown up, but I grasp the ends, trying to hold it down. “Please, don’t…”
