Page 94 of This Blood That Breaks Us
She didn’t touch me like I ached for Her to. I wanted more. So much more. But Her hands stayed on my chest.
She pulled away, and I reached for Her. “Stay.”
“All in good time, Darling. You must be patient. We’ll have plenty of time together.”
A knock on the door brought me out of my trance. I opened my eyes.
What the fuck was I do doing?
No. No. No.
How could I do this to Luke . . . to Sarah?
The guilt for touching Her slammed into me, and I was right back to where I’d started. In Her room. On Her bed. Looking at Her with the wave of lust pooling in my stomach. I ached for Her.
I left Her on the bed and sprinted out of the room, bumping Ezra on the way out.
“Everything okay?”
Our eyes met, and I felt that familiar pity and sadness in his eyes.
The feeling was so strong it created an avalanche of emotion that nearly knocked me to the ground. I kept walking and pushed out the surfacing memory, but it was right at my heels. I was repeating my past mistakes again. What else was new?
The memory wouldn’t stop. It was crashing into me from behind. Biting my legs. I was losing my footing, and the cold was engulfing me.
No. No. No
The feeling of Her hands on my chest. Her teeth in my skin. It wasn’t the part of the memory I hated the most. It wasn’t the guilt. It was waking up alone. Vulnerable. Shivering. Weak. I’d let Her bite me. I’d wanted it. Begged for it. I’d asked Her to strip me. I wanted Her to do a lot more than She had.
I’d put my clothes back on.
No. Stop.But the memory was there vividly gushing and making me feel.
I’d run out of the Her room with my head down, knowing I had to check on Luke.
But Ezra stopped me.
I could feel his fingers digging into my arm as if it were happening again.
“What’s wrong?” he had asked.
“Nothing.”
I tried to walk again, and he pulled down the neck of my hoodie, revealing the bites all over me.
The look on his face. The horror. My fear.
I felt it all again, and it would consume me this time.
“What’s going on?” Will’s voice cut through the silence. He’d opened the door to the closet I was hiding in. For a moment, he assessed me and my shaky hands.
With one hand, he grabbed me by the collar to get me off the floor. “Come on.”
I let him drag me to my feet, hoping the memory couldn’t follow me.
The walk was a blur as other members bowed to me in the hall. My hands were cold and tingling. I didn’t know where he was taking me, but I didn’t care. We ascended the stairs until we reached the end of the hall on the third floor. He pointed to a ladder, and we climbed. I didn’t know there was a ladder to the roof.
We stood on the roof admiring a pitch-black sky. Rain droplets fell onto my face, and I was trapped and achy. I looked over the edge. It could stop this feeling. It would hurt, but I needed pain. I needed the memory to stop making me cold, pulling me under, and suffocating me.
