Page 138 of Chalk Outline
The pungent smell of the burning body assaults my nose, making me gag.
“Run!” Grandma yells as the tall flames sway toward me. She grabs my wrist and yanks me forward, pulling me away from them. “Come on, sweetie. We have to go.” Worry laces her tone, yet we quickly find our way out of the circus.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here.”
My eyes snap open as I wake from another nightmare, except…It’s not.
I was there.
I was in the circus.
I saw him running away the night he killed Dick.
I saw Reeve.
A hand grips my throat while sleep still cloaks me. “You’re going to come for me like a good girl, but only when I tell you to,” he growls in my ear, and a sleepy smile crosses my mouth.
The fine hairs on his leg tickle my ankle as he brushes against me. I squeal as Reeve yanks me from bed.
“Let’s play hide and seek.”
“Yeah, let’s, when I can only hide on this floor,” I sass, giving him a playful glance. He knows why. He fucked me to oblivion last night, and I can barely stand.
“That’s the best part. I just want to have my way with you,” he says, biting the corner of his lip as he breaks into an adorable smirk. He brings his hand to wrap around my throat. “Scream for me when I catch you.”
“Make me.”
“Oh, I will.”
Desire pools in my core for him. I still get butterflies thinking about his hand necklace tattoo.
We spend our days sharing everything we’ve experienced during our time apart. We cook meals and read books together. We have plenty of sex. We dance, play board games, and enjoy watching the stars when we need some quiet time.
Right as his tight ass disappears downstairs, I crawl under the bed. My wobbly knees are like noodles; I can hardly stand upright. I stay as quiet as a mouse, taking each breath slowly to avoid making any sound.
The dark skies outside merge with the gloom inside the tower as the light dims.
Great.
Now, he took my ability to see.
I don’t think diving headfirst under the bed was the best idea. My head’s still fuzzy, but adrenaline is starting to kick in.
I perk up my ears to hear his footsteps, but there are none. If the stairs had been made of wood, they might have creaked, but they’re made of concrete.
My eyelids drift shut as I strain to hear the sound of his breathing, swallowing, or the soft flick of his tongue across his lips.
Nothing.
Silence prevails.
My heartbeat picks up pace.
I rest my head on my forearms, trying to relax.
This is so Reeve-coded.
There’s something about these games we started playing that makes me feel terrified and alive at the same time. I don’t know what to expect, but I know my body craves the mystery.
