Page 80 of Sour Lollipops and Sweet Nightmares
That was cute. Georgia thought she could keep me out. This door only existed to makeherfeel safe. It was an illusion hiding how exposed she truly was. All I had to do to unlock the door was click on the app on my phone.
I could’ve gone in through one of the hidden entrances, but there was something about strolling in through the front door like I owned the place. Which I kind of did. I knew this place better than Georgia ever would.
The Society designed it as a trap. There were no creaking hinges or gusts of air that might wake her when the door swung open. It was silent as I stepped inside.
The second I crossed the threshold, her scent hit me. Not the sweet, artificial one from her body wash, but the real one. Skin and breath. Sleep and sweat. That raw, feral scent that belonged to only her. It clung to the air, faint and intimate. The vanilla and cherries were a mask, but this…
I sucked in a deep breath, practically groaning as the scent of Georgia Pyne sank into my lungs. This was the smell I wanted to drown in.
Every step I took felt like a deeper invasion of her privacy. There were signs of her everywhere. The dip in the couch cushion, a mug sitting on the kitchen counter, and her cardigan flung over the chair.
I headed over to the bedroom door and pushed it open.
Georgia was lying in bed with one leg kicked out from under the covers. Her glasses were folded on the nightstand next to her phone. But I was more interested in something else.
The bottom of her nightgown had ridden up to the top of her thigh, exposing a hint of the blue cotton panties she wore underneath. There was nothing desirable about what she was wearing. It was closer to something a grandmother would wear than lingerie, but on her, it was hot as fuck.
I adjusted my cock and watched her chest rise and fall. She was so small I could smother her with one hand. There were so many ways I could ruin her. I wouldn’t even have to touch her to do it. A whisper would work. A single word uttered in the dark. She didn’t have to see me to feel me.
When I took a few steps closer, Georgia’s body jerked. Not much, just a slight twitch. As if her subconscious registered the shift in the air. It was an instinctual reaction. The same response prey had when they sensed a predator nearby.
My cock throbbed as I moved closer, and her fingers curled around the edge of the blanket. Even in her sleep, Georgia knew something wasn’t right. Not why or what, just that danger was close. When she pulled the blankets higher, I damn near came.
That fear—the one that slithered through her bloodstream telling her that the shadows weren’t empty—that fear was mine. And so was she.
I looked at her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow and smirked at the knit in her brow. If Ravi wanted me to start the claiming, so be it.
Bending down, I got close enough to feel the warmth of her skin, and whispered, “You should sleep with the lights on.”
The small, barely audible gasp she let out was all the reaction I needed. The bend her part of the claiming had begun.
I straightened and walked out the door.
Tomorrow, Georgia would wake up and wonder if it was real or if she had imagined it. And every part of her that knew she didn’t imagine it would rot from the inside out. Her paranoia would eat her alive.
That was how I would break Georgia Pyne.
Georgia
No one can do you better than you can. My grandmother used to tell me that all the time. It never really made sense to me. Who would want to be me?
I wasn’t popular, well-liked, or even thought about. Most of my graduating class didn’t even know my name. Unknown wasn’t exactly the role most girls aspired to have. Yet, I found myself thinking a lot about that statement recently.
Not because I thought someone wanted to be me, but because I wasn’t sureIknew how to be me anymore. The Georgia Pyne who arrived at Renfrew was confident and sure ofherself. The one who was currently sitting in class was jumpy, paranoid, and hearing whispers.
You should sleep with the lights on.
That thought had been rolling through my mind all day. I’d never been afraid of the dark, not even when I was a kid. Monsters weren’t real. Therefore, there was no boogeyman hiding in the shadows. So why did I suddenly have the urge to turn on the lights when I walked into a dim room? And my paranoia didn’t stop there.
When the projector at the front of the class flickered, I half expected some devil face to show, pop up, and evilly glare at me. Instead, a layered diagram of limestone and shale snapped into focus. Something that one would expect to see in a historical geology class, but that didn’t stop my heart from thumping in my chest.
Get a hold of yourself, Georgia.
I might need to take a trip to the counselor’s office before this nervousness affects my grades.
Taking a deep breath, I focused on Dr. Kellerman as he tapped his pointer against a jagged section labeled unconformity.
“What’s missing here isn’t just rock,” he explained. “It’s time. Hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of years erased.”
