Page 189 of Surrender

He climbs off the bed and turns off the bedroom light. He closes the bathroom door so light can’t even come in that way, then walks over to our bedroom window and closes the curtains. I hear a little more rustling, but the room is dark, so I can’t tell what he’s doing.

Goose bumps erupt across my skin, but I don’t know why. I’m not afraid of the dark or of him—most of the time anyway—but I can feel him getting into character, and I know from experience that when Dare plays a role, he fucking commits.

A sliver of doubt cuts through me. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to role-play with him. Dare’s games can leave deep scars—the incident in the car on the way home was proof enough of that.

But I did agree to this, so I ask tentatively, “Is there anything you want me to do?”

“Get ready for bed like you would any other night. Roll over on your tummy and act like you’re about to go to sleep alone.”

I have a feeling this is going to be the kind of sex he likes more than the kind I like, but I tell myself that’s okay. I wanted to do something for him anyway.

I grab the charge cord and plug in my phone. The room lights up, and I instinctively look for him but don’t see him.

The screen darkens before I can find his silhouette in the shadows.

I feel uneasy as I roll over on my tummy, getting comfy beneath the covers even though I’m still wearing my costume.

I wait for him to climb on the bed with me, but he doesn’t.

The room is so still for so long, my body begins to relax.

Dare isn’t moving. He’s a shadow. I can’t hear him or feel him. It’s as if I’m all alone in our bedroom.

But I know I’m not.

I know he’s watching me.

Then the curtain moves, and I start, my gaze jumping to it as a sliver of light streams in through the window.

All the tension returns to my body. Even though I know it’s only him, I don’t know whichversionof him it is. I strongly suspect it’s the one who likes to scare me. The one whokidnapped me, maybe. Definitely not the version who loves me and doesn’t want to hurt me.

I should have asked more questions. I should have at least covered bases like making sure he wouldn’t hurt me. After all this time, I know I have to be specific, dammit. Why wasn’t I more—?

My heart slams to a stop when I hear something dragging along the fabric of the bedsheet beside my body. My arms are wrapped around my pillow so I’m not in danger of getting nicked, but there’s enough light in the room since the curtain moved and my eyes are adjusted to the dark that I can make out…

A knife?

Oh my god, he wouldn’t really bring a knife into our bedroom, would he?

I didn’t hear him leave the room! Whatever he has is with us in here all the time.

Even though I tell myself we’re just playing pretend, the danger feels real. My stomach rocks, and I squeeze the pillow tighter, my breaths coming shallower as dread shrinks my lungs.

And then he speaks and stops my fucking heart.

“Hello, Hannah.”

No!

I want to stop him. I don’t want to role-play anymore, but we don’t have a safe word. There’s no point. Dare would just ignore it if he felt like it.

“I bet you’re surprised to find me in your bedroom again, hmm?” he murmurs, climbing on the bed and pushing back the covers, exposing my body to the drafty air before straddling me.

“Dare—”

“Shh,” he reminds me, grabbing my jaw and sliding his hand over my mouth.

Hisglovedhand.

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