Page 45 of Eden's Deliverance

Like clockwork, I’d found them sitting at the bar every night, watching me emerge from the White Room—studying my overwound body. They studied the way I walked with stiff legs instead of floating happily. They laughed at the way my forehead sweated in frustration instead of overstimulation. They celebrated the way I slammed down drinks with anger rather than sipping on them in a dreamy afterglow.

They’re in my head. All. The. Time.

Unfortunately for him, The Prince is a straight up golden retriever and hasn’t seemed to notice anything amiss. He still followed me around, did his very best in the bedroom, and left happy. He doesn’t know I’m stuck in a nightmare—one where my satisfaction is being held prisoner by two psychopathic men that are asking me to write a check I can’t cash.

Maybe I like the chase. Maybe I like the fight. Maybe I meant what I said…that I think my life will be over if I step into that room with them.

I’ve thought about it, time and time again. I’ve written about it, paragraph after paragraph of thoughts on a page, arguing with myself over the pros and cons of becoming a Ruby.

The name sounded so sweet on Broody’s lips, like maybe itwasactually meant for me. No matter how much I try to convince myself it’s what I want to do, I can’t bring myself to commit to it.

What if I can only handle what they’ve done to me so far because it’s just a fraction of the real thing? I doubt Casanova only wants to poke me with his knife. If I gave my body to him, he’d probably slice it to shreds. Broody clearly enjoys when I struggle to breathe, so what’s to stop him from strangling me completely?

Regardless of how positively I’ve reacted to the adrenaline rushes lately, I’m not a junkie for it. I’m not in this to fear for my life. I just wanted a damn orgasm.

How has it turned into this?

“Use Me” by PVRIS and 070 Shake plays through the car stereo, and much to my dismay, Penelope turns up the volume. We’re traveling back to our hometown for Thanksgiving, but I haven’t been an attentive passenger. The song lyrics sink into my brain, making me think about the boys more than I already was before, if that’s even possible.

I didn’t tell her about Broody’s visit on my birthday. I don’t want him to be right about my fear of her stealing them away from me, but I still can’t bring myself to tell her everything.

Can she really steal them when they aren’t mine? And if they want me so badly…why would they ever have her?

We arrive at my dad’s house in one piece, pulling into the driveway just in time for dinner. Skylar’s Audi is parked outside, regrettably looking brand-spanking-new as if I never even hit it.

Pen already agreed to stay for dinner, but she has no idea what she’s about to walk into. I warned her that things will probably be weird and hostile, but it’shard to convey exactly what that means. I’ve only told her about Skylar in passing, so she doesn’t get the full picture.

We make it inside just as the food is being passed around. Right on cue, Satan starts his shit. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

Our parents might pass it off as a harmless joke, but all this douchebag wants to do is get under my skin. I am too wound up and horny to deal with his bullshit right now.

My entire body aches. My skin is itchy and irritated. I feel like I’m burning from the inside out, and I just know I’m probably going to have to hump a pillow to get any sleep tonight.

“My apologies,” I spit. “Some of us have jobs and priorities. You know, something to be proud about. What do you have, Skylar?” I start in on him, but Dad gives me a stern look.

Letting it go for now, I sit down and help myself to some food.

Penelope leans over to whisper in my ear, “Uh, what’s the situation there? Why is he looking at you like he wants to rip your clothes off?”

“Murder me, is more like it. He’s a fucking prick, just ignore him,” I advise, but can’t seem to follow through myself. He is looking at me like he wants to dosomethingto me, I’m just not sure what.

Fuck, he really does look like Broody from a distance.

His beard is more pointed, scragglier, and even with his hair pulled into a bun, there’s no waves in it like Broody has. But if I squint my eyes enough I can almost imagine it. The resemblance is so eerie, I’m actually starting to question everything I think I know.

What if they are the same man?

It’s hard to tell if my mind is playing tricks on me—making me see them everywhere I go—or if I’m just coming to terms with some reality I’ve been refusing to accept.

I pull out my phone and type a quick message, then wait. My eyes are glued to Satan’s smartwatch, but to my relief, it never lights up. When I look up at hisface, he’s already watching me with those fiery eyes. He really is good-looking, if you’re into whatever it is that makes him an evil asshole.

Ding.

“It’s rude to be on your phone at dinner, Red. Especially after getting here so late,” Skylar comments snarkily.

“Sky, leave her alone, it could be something important. I swear, you two bicker like siblings fighting over a toy,” Gretchen reprimands, though there’s no actual sternness behind her delivery.

Satan and I share a look when she compares us to siblings, neither of us very fond of the implication.

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