Page 127 of Wicked Little Nightmare

The nightstand went next, drawers spilling their contents as it crashed to the ground. I kicked at the scattered debris, my vision blurred by a red haze of rage and remembered terror.

"You fuckers," I snarled, tearing at the bedsheets. "You goddamn monsters!"

She let me get it all out, knowing once the storm was over, she’d take my violence in measures of love. She didn't speak, didn't try to stop me. She just sat, watching me with those unnervingly calm blue eyes.

Part of me wanted to lash out at her, to make her feel a fraction of the pain tearing me apart. But even in my frenzy, I couldn't bring myself to hurt her. Not Lakey. Never Lakey.

Instead, I slumped to the floor, surrounded by the wreckage of our room. "Why?" I choked out. "Why the fuck are you just sitting there? How are you not raging? How are you not breaking?"

I felt broken. Torn apart. This gaping mess of a hole that hadn’t existed before this. I hated it. I wanted to shove it all back, to push the demons back in their cage, but it was too late. Their hands were clawing at me, pulling me down into the depths with them.

Her silence was deafening, her steady gaze an anchor in the storm of my emotions. I wanted to shake her, to provoke a reaction, anything to distract me, to hurt me. I couldn't look away from her eyes. Those big, round eyes, usually sparklingwith mischief, now held a depth I rarely saw. Her calmness won out and my breathing slowed, my chest heaving as I tried to regain some semblance of balance. It was like staring into a calm ocean, one that could drown you if you weren't careful.

"Fuck," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. My fingers were shaking. "I really made a mess, didn't I?"

Lakey's lips quirked into a small smile. She didn't say a word, but her hand reached out, fingers brushing against my cheek. The touch was electric, pulling me back to myself in a way nothing else could.

I leaned into her hand, closing my eyes. The rage was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it wasn't consuming me anymore. "You always know, don't you?" I said softly. "You always know what I need."

When I opened my eyes again, Lakey's gaze had changed. There was understanding there, and something darker. Something needy. She shifted on the bed, her body language an open invitation.

"Lakey," I growled, a warning and a plea all at once. "You don't have to do this."

But her eyes never wavered. They bore into me, challenging and comforting all at once.Take what you need,they seemed to say. I'm here. I can take it.

My hands clenched into fists. "You sure about this, sweetheart? 'Cause I'm not feeling too gentle right now."

Her only response was to lean back on the bed, a silent offering. And God help me, I couldn't resist.

I lunged forward, pinning Lakey to the bed with bruising force. My mouth crashed against hers, all teeth and tongue, sucking on the blood that had collected on her bottom lip. She gasped, arching into me, her nails scoring down my back.

"Fuck," I growled, tearing at her clothes. "I need—"

"I know," she breathed, her voice a soothing balm even as her actions stoked the fire within me. "Take it, Cam. Take what you need."

I didn't need to be told twice. My hands were everywhere, rough and demanding, leaving marks that would bloom into bruises come morning. Lakey met my aggression with equal fervor, her body molding to mine as if we were two pieces of a bloody puzzle.

As I entered her with brutal force, those memories still playing out in front of me. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block them out, but they kept coming.

"Look at me," Lakey commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos in my head.

I obeyed, my gaze locking with hers as I continued to move. Her eyes were clear, unflinching, filled with a twisted sort of love that matched my own.

My hand found her throat, fingers tightening instinctively. I squeezed before releasing.

Lakey's lips curled into a serene smile, even as her breath hitched. "Give me more," she whispered.

I increased the pressure, watching as her eyes fluttered but never lost their focus. My perfect little psycho. In that moment, with my hand around her throat, squeezing the life out of her, and her unwavering trust in her eyes, I felt anchored. The memories receded, replaced by the here and now — Lakey beneath me, taking everything I had to give and asking for more.

I felt the rage and pain start to ebb, my grip on her throat loosening. Her presence beneath me became a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge of that dark abyss in my mind.

"I've got you," she murmured, her fingers tracing the scars on my back.

I shuddered, burying my face in her neck. "Fuck, Lakes," I breathed, my movements becoming less frantic, more deliberate. “I could have killed you.”

“But you didn’t,” she arched into me, a soft moan escaping her lips. "That's it, baby. Let it all out."

I lifted my head, meeting her gaze. Those light blue eyes that could go from innocent to murderous in a heartbeat were now filled with nothing but warmth and understanding. It was a look reserved only for me.

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