Page 33 of Hysteria Rises
A strangled laugh falls from her lips. “Right,” she bites out, “well, you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe a word from your lying mouth.”
Sharp-tongued siren. I shake my head, squatting down to stare through the bars at her. “Why won’t you eat?”
At first, I don’t think she’s going to answer, but then she dampens her lips, face contorting. “Easy.” She glares before pulling her gaze away. My heart thuds heavily as I wait for her to continue, almost as if I sense the answer before she speaks. “If I don’t eat, maybe I’ll die in here. That’d be preferable to this.”
The honesty in her words is a punch to the gut, robbing me of my breath. “Why?” The word tumbles from my lips unbidden, but then guilt swamps mewhile confusion wars within my heart. When we found her in the woods, she was alone and afraid. Is this really worse than that?
“I’m being held prisoner in this cage.”
“You’re being kept here for a reason. Cooperate, and they’ll let you out.”
“They?” Her eyes dart to mine, searching for an answer. “But will I be free to leave this place?” She pauses. “You do understand that I don’t mean just this cell, right? I mean that I’m captive here.”
The fear in her eyes continues to build, and there are many questions residing there that have yet to be asked… all of it twists inside my gut. I imagine I don’t have most of the answers, but I also know it would be frowned upon if I spoke out of turn without the permission of the Collective. I gesture to the piece of bread, and the cold spaghetti that sits on the tray Cross brought down earlier. “You should really eat.” With a sigh, I make to leave, when I catch a glimpse of movement from the corner of my eye.
A split-second later, Twenty-three’s face screws up, and she smacks her forehead with an open palm. Over and over again. They are no light slaps either, the sound of them echoes off the walls of the chamber, making me wince. I spin on my heel, rushing to stand before her as she continues to do herself harm. Tears streak down her cheeks. “Stop,” I command, my voice rough. “What are you doing?”
Chest heaving and jerking with emotion, she looks up. Hits herself again. And again.
I put my hands out. “Don’t do that. Stop.” Her face is blotchy, the skin on her forehead red from the force of what she’s doing to herself.
“What? Do you not want them to think you did this to me?” she wails through frustrated ears.
Gripping the back of my neck, I sort through my choices. She’s not wrong. It won’t do to have anyone think I’ve hit her, but it tears me up to see the pain in her eyes.
“What do you care, anyway?” And she smacks herself again.
My hand dives into my pocket, and before I can think better of it, I produce the key to her cell that Nolan had given to us several nights ago. We—the firstborn sons—have been passing it among ourselves in order to share the burden of bringing food down to her.
She only strikes herself once more before I’m spurred into action, jamming the key into the lock. The hinges of the cell door screech when I swing it open. I waste no time, not even bothering to shut it before I’m on my knees in front of Twenty-three. I can’t even talk myself out of grabbing hold of her. With one hand, I take her wrist just below the bandage that covers her tattoo, then wrap my fingers around the bicep of the opposite arm. Crying out, she struggles for a second, but then it’s as if she wilts. Her body is racked with the saddest of sobs. It guts me, and I pull her back to my front, catching her arms with mine before rolling to the blanket on the hard stonefloor that serves as her bed. She doesn’t even protest, so I hold her as she quakes against me, completely unraveling at the seams.
It’s long moments later that she whispers into the dark, “Will you stay with me?”
And against my better judgment and everything screaming within me that I most definitely should get up and leave, I nod. With her tucked against my body, words are wrenched from way down deep. “Siren, I could never say no to you.”
She says not a single word to that, but it’s only moments later that she relaxes in my hold… and if I’m not mistaken… she sleeps.
But me? I don’t. There’s no way in hell I’d risk it. Not here. Not that I can ever fucking sleep anyway. I need a distraction. I need the distraction that only she can bring me.
I spend one long minute after another inhaling the scent of her hair. Reacquainting myself to her body. Her shape, her curves. Recalling all the hateful things she’s uttered in anger. In fear. And even those she’s said in distaste. Slowly, but surely, I find myself stumbling into a possessive void where only she and I exist. Where she neither needs nor wants anyone but me.
I run my hand down the side of her body, from waist to the swell of her hip and over her thigh. Each lingering touch doesn’t wake her. In fact, she hardly moves at all.
But fuck, there’s nothing I want more than tomove, want to keep doing what I’ve done over and overever since that first night when I laid on top of her. I haven’t been capable of controlling my urges. Maybe I should be ashamed that every thought in my head goes against what I’ve been taught. But I’m not.What’s mine is yours. And what’s yours is mine.I’ve visited her almost every night, just to be near her. She’s never woken up. Not once. I doubt she knew I was here. If she had, surely I’d have caught another one of her fists to my face or been on the receiving end of another lashing from her sharp tongue.
Carefully grasping the material of her cotton gown, I inch the material upward until my fingers encounter bare skin so soft it makes my blood heat, knowing all that I want to do to her. My palm skims upward, and by the time I’m done, I’m able to shift enough to totally expose her to the cool air that surrounds us.
My cock twitches as I unfasten my pants, and my heart thuds heavily in my chest, but I don’t want to touch myself. Not yet. Instead, I slip my hand between her legs, slowly exploring every part of female anatomy in a way I’ve never had the opportunity to do until her. It was several nights ago that I first touched this soft flesh, becoming harder with every tiny whimper she made in her sleep. It’s no different now. And the slick, wet feel of her is enough to make me groan in desperation. I need her, needthisbefore my own exhaustion overwhelms me and I’m thrown into the dark abyss of nightmarish sleep that I’m so accustomed to.
As heat rages like a wicked wildfire through myveins, I reach between us and free my cock.Fuck me. Siren, what are you doing to me?Exhaling hard, I indulge myself, coating my fingers with the moisture between her thighs before grasping my cock and leisurely stroking. I purposely use a firm grip, all the while pretending my hand is her sweet cunt and thinking about how I’m covered inher.
My mind bends and twists, wanting more. Each breath becomes more and more ragged and so fucking uncontrolled, I have to pause. I can’t afford to completely let go. If she were to wake up, there’d be disastrous consequences. It’d be a catastrophe of my own making, but a catastrophe all the same.
If she were to reject me… No. I can’t let that happen. I need her. It’s only in these quiet moments with Twenty-three in my arms that I’ve found solace. It’s in the cradle of her thighs that I’ve discovered salvation.
Throat dry, I run my tight fist from root to tip, then nudge my cock between her legs before thrusting forward, inch by devastating inch. The shock of how good she feels slaps me upside the head. I’m not even inside her yet. All of this—it’s just a tease. This could feel so much better. We could be so much more.
I’m dying a slow death, teasing my dick with her flesh, so close to where I want to be. One rush after another of unadulterated pleasure cascades down my spine, and suddenly I’m shaking. And then, my cock almost erupts.
