Page 33 of Colton
As I pull away, breathing hard, I watch her. She’s still trembling, her chest rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath. Her eyes meet mine, and there’s something different there now. Something darker.
I lean in, brushing my lips against her ear. “You’re mine now, Mary,” I whisper, my voice rough with satisfaction. “No one else’s. Just mine.”
She doesn’t argue. She can’t.
Because she knows it’s true.
We stay like that for a moment, our breaths intermingling, her body still pressed against mine. The world outside this basement, outside of us, doesn’t exist. I want this moment to last, to keep her here, just like this, forever.
But reality creeps back in. I can see it in her eyes, the way they flicker with something other than desire. Something that looks like doubt, like fear. She’s pulling away, emotionally if not physically.
I can’t have that.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice still rough. I push a strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She leans into the touch, but her eyes remain distant.
“Nothing,” she says, but her voice is too soft, too uncertain.
“Don’t lie to me, Mary.” My tone is sharper than I intend, but the thought of her hiding something from me is infuriating. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
She hesitates, then pulls back slightly, her gaze dropping from mine. “It’s just...it’s all too much, Colton. I need some air.”
Air?She needsairafter what we just shared? I feel a surge of anger, of possessiveness. I grit my teeth, trying to control it. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Her eyes snap back to mine, defiant. “I just need a moment, Colton. I can’t...I can’t breathe.”
I study her, the tension in her body, the way her hands tremble slightly. I don’t want to let her go, but I can see she’s on edge. Pushing her now might break whatever fragile connection we have.
She’s hiding something.
But what?
“Fine,” I growl, stepping back. “But you’re not leaving my sight.”
She nods, quickly gathering her clothes and pulling them on. I do the same, never taking my eyes off her. Once dressed, she moves towards the ladder, and I follow, my eyes boring into her back.
As we ascend, the cool air of the cabin hits us. Mary takes a deep breath, filling her lungs. She turns to face me, her expression unreadable.
“I just need a moment alone, Colton. Please.” Her voice is steady, but there’s an underlying plea that gnaws at me.
I hesitate, then nod. “Five minutes, Mary. Then I’m coming to find you.”
She nods, then she slips out of the cabin, leaving me standing there, a storm of emotions raging within me. I watch her go, counting down the seconds until I can follow her, until I can bring her back to me.
I watch her retreating figure through the cabin window, my jaw clenched tight. The woods swallow her up, and I feel a primal urge to chase after her, to keep her within my sight, within my grasp. The seconds tick by with agonizing slowness. Each one feels like an eternity, testing me. I try to distract myself, pacing the length of the cabin, running a hand through my hair, but my gaze always finds its way back to the window, back to the woods where Mary disappeared.
Three minutes left.
I can’t shake the feeling that something is off. That she’s not just seeking air but escaping something. Escaping me? The thought makes my chest tighten, my grip on the edge of the windowsill turning my knuckles white.
Two minutes.
I can’t wait any longer. I push away from the window and stride towards the door, my heart pounding in my chest. I tell myself I’m just checking on her, making sure she’s safe. But the truth is, I need to see her. I need to know she’s still here, still mine.
I step out into the woods, my eyes scanning the trees, the shadows, for any sign of her. The wind whispers through the leaves, carrying with it a faint rustling sound. I follow it, my steps quickening.
Then I see her. She’s leaning against a tree, her head tilted back, her eyes closed. She looks almost peaceful, but there’s a tension in her body, a restlessness that mirrors my own.
I approach her, my steps silent on the forest floor. She doesn’t notice me until I’m right in front of her, and when she opens her eyes, there’s a flicker of surprise, followed by a flash of something else. Something like fear.
