Page 18 of Lust

I pull myself up onto the vanity and sit down, putting my head into my hands. If I’d dreamed of a sex swing in a swingers club, it would be less awkward than this. At least I could pretend it wasn’t about Dade. I’m pretty sure I could come up with a hundred more exciting fantasies than this if I tried, but now, as I think back, this is the one recurring fantasy I’ve had since the day it happened. Every moment with Remy didn’t come close to the excitement I felt with Dade in this room. I’ve dreamed about this so many times it’s indecent.

I try to think of something that turns me on more than this bathroom, but nothing is springing to mind. I really am the most vanilla bitch on the planet. I’m surprised I didn’t fantasize about being a virginal nun before realizing that even that in itself is probably way sexier and more taboo than a crappy old bathroom.

For the next ten minutes, neither of us speaks. If awkward silence was a turn on, we’d both be clawing each other’s clothes off by now. Thankfully, it isn’t. I hazard a look at Dade and he seems as bored as I am. He’s now sitting in the dry bath, his wings partially wrapped around him. He looks deep in thought. My mind is whirling with the memories of our time together in here and the video I watched only yesterday. I can’t quite put the two together.

The silence and lack of motion are excruciating. “This can’t be exciting if they’re watching us on the big screen upstairs,” I say, trying to break the ice. It feels like I’m chipping away at the iceberg that sunk the Titanic with a spoon.

Dade doesn’t even look up. “I’m sure everyone’ll be entertained by your friends' exploits.”

“Don’t slut shame!” I say defensively.

He brings his dark eyes up to mine and immediately I know I’ve said something stupid. I’m way too wound up to think clearly, let alone converse in a way that will entertain the masses upstairs. “I never used that word,” he says darkly, “and correct me if I’m wrong.”

I think back to Juliette’s confession yesterday about being railed by multiple men and have no argument. At least she’ll be enjoying herself... or at least would be if she was allowed to. I imagine her with three hot men all wanting to take her body at once and her lapping it up. Orlin is probably on the side somewhere, not even realizing there are other people in the room. I envy Juliette. Even paired with Orlin, she’s probably living it up.

I pick up the toothbrush and examine it for the want of something to do. I don’t want to be here and I don’t want to be talking about Juliette’s sexual escapades, but anything beats talking about what happened between Dade and I.

Even though he’s sitting at the other side of the room, it would literally take less than a second to gap the space between us and for him to rip my head off my shoulders the way he did so effortlessly with Michael. I don’t look at him directly. I can’t. My nerves are taut and yet being here with Dade has my body humming with...

Desire.

I’m turned on.

Fuck.

Despite everything, my body remembers what I don’t want to. It’s not helping that being in Lust exacerbates these kinds of feelings. I’ve been low key turned on since getting here. It’s like my body and brain have disconnected somehow and being in such close quarters with the man that turns me on like no one else ever has is not helping matters. I’m utterly terrified, but at the same time my body is turning that fear into some weird sexual energy.

Fucking great!

Somewhere, a lilting melody fills the air, giving me a few seconds to breathe. I knew being trapped in a room with Dade would be hard, but I wasn’t expecting the conflicting emotions even though neither of us have said more than a few words beyond small talk.

I try to fixate on Remy. Anything to take my mind away from the thoughts going through my mind about Dade. Then I remember that he’s here in the Earthery somewhere, living out his wildest fantasy with Candice, and I’m willing to bet it’s a hell of a lot more exciting than sitting in a bathroom. The nausea within me threatens to erupt. Hopefully, the Earthery decided to conjure them perched on the edge of a crumbling cliff overlooking shark-infested waters.

“Juliette thinks your handwriting was forged on those notes,” I blurt out. It’s the last thing I want to talk about, but it feels a damn sight safer than where my mind is really going.

He doesn’t look up, doesn’t murmur a word, which irritates me even though this is all my fault.

“I saw a video of you, but then last night I saw fake videos of all of us projected onto the big screen and maybe I was wrong and it was all a fake. When I saw that video, I knew something was wrong with it, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It took me all night to remember that the color of the water was wrong. When Michael and Lucia were murdered, the water had changed from green, but in the video it still showed that.” I pause and my heart feels like a stone in my chest. “Did you do it? Did you murder Michael and Lucia?”

This time, he finally turns his eyes to me. I see that I’m not the only one haunted by memories of being down under the water that day. “What is it you want, Quinn?”

I don’t know what I want. I want him to tell me he didn’t kill them, but he’s already done that. Multiple times.

The music begins to rise in tempo, confusing me. He stands up and bridges the space between us. My heart palpates quickly as he brings his face to mine. Anger emanates from his every pore. His face is hard, his eyes darker than usual. When he speaks, it’s a furious whisper, “You made the right decision not to trust me, Quinn.” A shudder runs like ice down my spine. His aura is all-encompassing, dark, frightening.

Now I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. It’s not helping that the music is invading my brain, annoying me more than music usually would. It’s like someone is playing a classical piece on a flute that’s directly inside my mind. I can’t hear it with my ears, but it’s definitely there. I want to ask Dade if he can hear it too, but I decide that I’d rather keep the fact I might be having auditory hallucinations to myself under the current circumstances.

Instead, I match his stare, holding it, even though I can’t breathe under the intensity of it. I’ve spent my entire life hiding my fear from Jenny. I’m well attuned to it. Neither of us blinks as the music gets louder. It’s practically deafening. His face is inches from mine. Darkly beautiful. I lean into a kiss, then recoil in horror.

What.

The.

Actual.

Fuck!

He doesn’t seem to notice my inner turmoil. I nearly kissed him! He looks like he’d quite happily murder me on the spot and all I was thinking about was tasting his lips. With horror, I realize I still want to kiss him. It’s utterly insane and yet I’m having to fight my body from leaning forward and planting my lips on his.

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