Page 17 of Claiming Sarah

14

ANOTHER KISS

ZAIDEN

Her words are a douse of freezing water, icy tendrils abrading my flesh and mind.

Does she think I’m crazy?

“And if I am mentally ill, Dr. Bell, are you going to help me?” I ask, leaning closer, the edge of my mask brushing her face. My eyes track her flush spreading, racing down her neck, and probably staining her chest. My fingers itch to rip her shirt off and see for myself, but would that prove her right?

To be clinically insane is to be no better than an animal. A psychiatrist told me that once, sitting across from me, a straitjacket pinning my arms against my body. I was a bug beneath his microscope, and he wanted to dissect my mind.Does Dr. Bell want the same? If I let her, will she let me taste her again?

I lick my lips in anticipation, the question resting on my tongue. “If you’re mentally ill, Dayton, then you need more help than I can provide. I specialize in pregnancy andchildbirth.” Her words sound earnest, possessing a kernel of empathy, warming my soul.

Can I convince her to like me? To stay willingly?

I’m almost tempted to try. But my mind conjures images of all the doctors that failed me and my mother, how thready and weak her voice got in the end, thin hand gripped in mine as I pleaded for her to stay with me, to not leave me alone.

She’d whispered, “Find your brother,” on an endless loop until her last breath eased out, eyes going out of focus.

“Dayton,” Sarah gasped, my fingers having tightened inadvertently around her throat, how I imagined them enclosing around the doctors that kept repeating, “We did the best we could do.”

False platitudes and schemes written on their faces. They plotted to lock me up in a padded room, dragging me kicking and screaming away from my mother’s still-warm body.

“D-D—” My hands jerk away from Sarah, feet ferrying me away, heart pounding in my chest. I nearly hurt her, the key to my mother’s dying wish, an end to this isolation.

“Help me,” I force the breathless words out. Her pupils nearly eat up the whites, taking a hesitant step forward, hand outstretched. I remain still, watching her approach, not daring to breathe.

When she stands in front of me, fingers brushing the edge of the mask curving beneath my jaw, I clamp a hand around her wrist. I can’t let her see. She’ll get scared, like all the others, running from me.

“Insane,” Dr. Barker whispered in my ear, four-point restraints constricting my movements.

“I can’t wait to see what your insides look like,” he whispered, lips ghosting over the shell of my ear.

The past claws at me, digging talons into my underbelly,scraping the axons, trying to tell me Sarah is standing right in front of me.

SARAH

His chest moves up and down in a rapid pattern, pupils expanding but staring unfocused at a point beyond my head.

Panic attack.

Heart in my throat, I do the only thing I can think of. I yank on his mask, pulling his face down. He makes an incoherent “Nnng” sound, but my fingers are scrambling to pull the mask above his jaw, exposing full lips. With part of the mask exposing his face, I grip the back of his neck with both hands, shifting my weight on my tip toes and brushing my mouth across his.

He groans, hands landing on my waist. I do it again, just as soft, a phantom caress. His lips part, panting against mine.

“Again, please,” he croaks, eyes half closed. I do it again, flicking my tongue to drag along his bottom lip. His gasp is my reward, and I shove the tip of my tongue inside his mouth.

“F-fff,” he grunts, letting me lead and slowly kiss into his mouth.

His lips are so soft, but the edges feel raised, like old scars.He is Z!Ignoring that revelation and not wanting to propel him back into whatever triggered his panic attack, I focus on the non-scarred portion of his mouth, cupid bow, and full bottom lip.

He doesn’t kiss me back, breathing heavily and holdingstill. Almost as if it’s his first kiss. But that can’t be right. We kissed at the bar. I pull back, resting my heels on the ground, and he groans, leaning down to chase my mouth.

“Please, don’t stop,” he begs, voice airy and choked with need. My pussy clenches on air, and I take it as a sign to stop. I kissed him merely to stop his panic attack. Nothing further needs to happen between us, and he promised me a phone call.

15

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