Page 5 of Primal

CHAPTER 6

KIARA

“Are you sure you don’t want to call the police, Kiara?” my best friend, Yolanda, asks at lunch the next day. It’s Wednesday, the one day of the week we have to see each other, so we always meet up for dinner. Her voice is laced with concern as she cuts into her blue rare steak. I scrunch up my face as the red juice drips out of the barely cooked meat and onto the plate.

“I should call the cops on you for eating raw meat,” I say in disgust. Why anything less than well-done is even an option is beyond me.

Yolanda chuckles and takes a bite. “It’s better than choking down that hockey puck.” She shoots a pointed look at my steak, which I’ll admit is slightly overcooked.

I snort. “At least I can sleep peacefully at night knowing I won’t get parasites.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, the gold beads in her goddess locs tinkling from the movement. “It’s not raw; stop being so dramatic. I’m serious, Kee. You need to call the police. And you need to tell your grandmother what happened.”

Yeah, I’m definitely not telling Grandma about last night. Of course, she has a right to know that her home was broken into, but I don’t want her to worry. She’s the only family I have left, and I don’t want to lose her to stress.

After the two men left last night, I’d checked the house to make sure all traces of them were nowhere to be found. The sight of me must have made them flustered or something, because nothing appeared to be taken. There were some things lying askew, but everything was still there.

Except Grandma’s phone, which was still in the blue-eyed man’s pocket.

Damn. I’d forgotten until now. She rarely uses her phone, so she probably hasn’t even noticed it’s missing.

I still don’t know how they even got in to begin with. No windows were broken, the door frames were still intact… It’s scary to know that someone can easily enter a home so silently. As soon as I leave the restaurant, I’m going to the store to buy a security system.

Taking a bite of my steak, I nod, but Yolanda knows me well enough to know that there’s something else. She quirks an eyebrow and waits for me to continue.

I haven’t told her about what the intruder and I had done together, because she would surely have me committed. She’s my best friend in the world, and I confide in her about every single aspect of my life, but she doesn’t know about my…

Deviance is the only word I can use to describe what’s wrong with me. I should have fought that man last night, but instead, I was more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life. A part of me wants him to come back, to claim me as his and take everything from me.

He said he would be back, but I’m not holding my breath on that.

Was I terrified? Absolutely.

But I was so turned on at the thought of being robbed, and then he started touching me and I completely lost control of myself.

It was wrong and perverted, but it was such a rush.

“Well?” she pushes.

“What?” I ask distractedly, chugging down my iced tea to keep from shaking. Sadly, it’s not a hard tea, which is what I really wanted, but my wallet is missing, so I don’t have any ID on me. It’s possible the intruders took it last night, but they didn’t even go into my room. I might have left it at the store yesterday when I bought that bottle of wine.

“I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me, and by the way you’re guzzling down that drink, I’d say I’m right.”

I slam the glass down and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Nothing else happened,” I assure her, albeit a bit harshly.

“Did he hurt you?” she asks quietly, voice laced with concern. “Because if he did, then I’m calling the police myself.”

“No, no, nothing like that, Yo,” I quickly reassure her. “He didn’t touch me.”

The lie rolls off my tongue so smoothly, I start to believe it myself. Last night feels like such a fever dream, and if it weren’t for the bruises and bite marks on my neck, I would second guess if it actually happened or not. Thank God my hair is long and thick enough to cover them, because then I’d have to make up a lie for how I got them.

I sigh and scoop some mashed potatoes onto my fork. “Let’s just forget about it, okay?”

Yolanda searches my face. I can tell she still has so much she wants to say, but she decides to drop it.

For now, anyway.

***

---