Page 155 of The Delta's Rogue
Riven opens the door for us, standing aside so I can enter first. “You should eat,” he says. “There’s some leftover pizza from lunch. I can warm it up, and then you can—”
“Sebastian told me to rest.”
He gives me a half-laugh that tilts the left side of his mouth up into a crooked smile. “I don’t think he’d be upset if you ate something first.”
I shake my head, the movement growing more frantic with each sway of my hair in front of my face.
Riven doesn’t understand. None of them do. I have to do what Sebastian says. If I don’t, he’ll punish me. I’mhis. Not because I’m his mate, but because he bought me. He purchased me.
He’s my Dom and I’m his sub, and he gave me an order. I’m required to follow it. Skipping a meal now is worth knowing he won’t take future meals away later for disobeying him.
“I’m exhausted, Riven.” Not a lie. I’m drained—mentally, physically, and emotionally. “Will you let my dad know I’ll see him in the morning?”
Riven runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. He opens his mouth like he’s about to argue, but on instinct, I stand up straighter and raise my brows at him. I don’t have access to my lycan or my aura, but if he’s smart, he’ll show me the respect I’m due as his future alpha.
“Yeah. Okay,” he concedes with a nod. “Goodnight.”
I spin and leave the entryway as soon as he finishes speaking. The longer I stay there, the higher the risk that Sebastian will return and see me disobeying him.
If he even returns.
The command he gave me is a relief because it means I can hide from the world for a bit longer. I’m not ready for the questions or the sympathy, especially without Sebastian by my side. I use his order like a shield, protecting myself from the prying or from having to pretend like I’m fine, like what I went through didn’t invoke a fundamental change in my psyche.
When I get to the room, I head straight for the bed, sitting cross-legged in the middle. I stare blankly ahead, unable to do anything except sit there.
Rest, Sebastian said.
There is no rest happening for me, though. How can I rest when he’s not here? How can I rest when we haven’t talked about what happened this morning?
I hate how desperately I need him. I hate how I can’t tell if that is wrought from my brainwashing or from my love for him. All I know is he’s not here, and I’m locked in limbo, unsure of anything and everything.
What if he doesn’t want me anymore? What if I never see him again?
I’d survive his rejection. I’d accept it. But…
This isn’t helping. Thinking about the what-ifs just adds to my disquiet.
I can’t rest, but maybe I can relax. There is a large tub in the bathroom. A soak in hot, flowery-scented water will soothe my muscles. If my muscles are relaxed enough, maybe then I can rest. Maybe then I’ll fall asleep.
I hop off the bed and head into the bathroom. The lights, set off by my movement, turn on automatically. They’re bright and reflect off the shiny, clean surfaces of the room—surfaces that are ruined by the two glass containers filled with my blood.
My vision tunnels, locking in on those villainous vials, and I see nothing else. My heartbeat erupts into a galloping, sprinting rhythm that cannot be contained by my ribcage, and my lungs expand with great, heaving gasps as I attempt to fill them through the straw lodged inside my throat.
The room flickers and blurs until it’s an amalgamation of this bathroom and the bathroom I spent an indeterminable amount of time in. Brenna stands behind me, prepared to disrobe me and help me into the tub so she can wash me, and Amara watches on, devouring my pain and misery.
Phantom pain, electrifying and numbing in equal parts, shoots through my veins. It sets my nerves on fire. It flows to every part of me and locks my muscles in place so I can’t move.
I can’t flee from this room. I can’t run to safety or protect myself from the inevitable manipulation of my body. There’s nothing I can do to prevent them from taking control of me.
The ground vanishes beneath my feet, replaced by a gaping, warped hole. I fall into the pit, ready to let it devour me and consume me until there’s nothing left.
Large, powerful arms catch me before the darkness envelops me. They wrap around me and cradle me to a massive, warm body. A brief spark ignites where Sebastian’s skin meets mine, and the subtle hint of fresh lemon encircles me and fills my lungs.
I cling to his neck and bury my face in the hood of his sweatshirt as he removes me from the bathroom. His deep, soothing voice fills my ears, but none of the words make sense. They’re all gibberish, a garbled mess of sounds, but I sense the concern and the comfort within those words.
He carries me to the bed and perches on the foot of it, with me still in his steady embrace. “Breathe,” he says. “I’ve got you.”
I finally relax enough for my brain to decipher the words he murmurs to me. My grip on his neck tightens, and I press myself harder into his chest, like I’m trying to merge my body with his so his strength will be mine and I’ll always be safe.
