Chapter 24
I wake up in a hospital bed, confused and disoriented.
The sterile smell of antiseptic fills my nostrils, and the harsh fluorescent lights above make my head throb. I try to piece together what happened, my mind a jumble of fragmented memories and half-formed thoughts.
The last clear memory I have is of my trip to the Marble with Peter. After that, it’s a blur. I recall Wake emerging from the water and then... nothing.
I try to sit up, but a sharp, throbbing pain between my thighs stops me. Memories rush back in a torrent, hitting me like a freight train. Communicating with Wake using the echotranscriptor, realizing that he considered me his mate… then he had marked me. And after that...
I bury my head in my hands, feeling a wave of humiliation wash over me. How could I have let things get so out of hand? I was supposed to be a professional, and what I’d allowed to happen on the observation deck went far beyond the bounds of ethics.
Wake was my subject, my patient. The nature of our relationship was already murky, but now it felt even more convoluted. At worst, I was no better than Stan, taking advantage of someone I was supposed to be responsible for. At worst...
A strange hollow feeling fills me, a deep, profound sadness that I can’t quite pinpoint. Without really knowing why, I start to cry. All I know is that I feel a sense of disappointment and despondency, as if my heart has been broken, but I can't quite grasp why.
“What is wrong with me lately?” I whisper to myself, running a hand through tangled hair.
I’m already in so far over my head that I barely recognize myself anymore. Maybe all of this had been a mistake? I wish I’d never agreed to come on this trip. I wish I’d never joined Stan’s program. I wish I’d never heard Wake’s song…
Wake’s song. The rest of my memories come crashing back. I had let Wake mark me, then I had allowed him to take me like an animal. That memory alone is mortifying enough, but it hadn’t ended there. After my second climax, Wake had begun to sing, and when he did, things became… fuzzy. Distorted.
My feelings had felt like my own, but amplified. I’d lost control of my inhibitions, had started to become a more active participant in our… mating.
That’s the only word that fits. I’ve been fucked, and a time or two, I’ve made love, but what happened between Wake and me was something altogether different. It wasn’t something humans do on their own.
Was that what the song was? A sort of mental lubricant? Perhaps it went even deeper than that – Wake had certainly gone deeper than I’d ever experienced before with another lover.
I remember growing hotter, hornier than I’d ever been in my life. It could stand to reason that this was more than a case of unusually wanton behavior. Mind, body, and spirit, I’d opened myself up to Wake, had given over a level of control that I could never have known to relinquish on my own.
To what end, I don’t know.
We had already been having sex, I had already given him everything I had to give, so what reason had Wake had for taking more? Or was that simply part of the siren’s nature? Perhaps Wake had had as little control as I had? Perhaps his song was beguiling, hypnotic, whether he intended it to be or not?
I can’t be sure of any of that, but at least I can now identify the hollow, desolate feeling inside of me – betrayal.
I know enough to understand that this hurt might be misplaced, but I still can’t shake that terrible moment the song had ended and I’d woken up. Even if I hadn’t known what was happening, my body had known that my mind had not been completely my own, and my heart had known that Wake was to blame.
Now, though, that hurt is being overshadowed by my natural curiosity. The more I consider it, the less it feels like a violation, and the more eager I become to unravel the mystery that is Wake.
You’re going to get yourself in trouble, I think to myself. You’re going to dig yourself into a hole and end up buried alive.
This thing between me and Wake is inappropriate – hell, it might even be illegal. Plus, my reputation is at stake.
These are the things I tell myself over and over – he’s dangerous, you’re playing with fire – but with every line, the urge to go to him only grows that much stronger.
I climb out of bed with single-minded focus, completely unbothered by the fact that I’m once again in nothing but a borrowed hospital gown. My mind races with the need to find Wake and get some answers. When I reach for the door, someone on the other side opens it first.
Stan stands in the doorway, his expression hard and dark, making me feel uneasy. “Stan. What are you doing here?” I say, my voice shaking as I try to remain calm. I take a step back, and he follows me wordlessly. “Wh-where is Peter?”
He doesn’t respond, just keeps staring at me with flat, angry eyes. The silence is oppressive, heavy with unspoken threats. I force a smile, though my heart pounds in my chest. “I’m actually on my way out. Can this wait until later?”
I attempt to sidestep him, but he moves in front of me, blocking my path. His hand reaches back, and he slams the door shut behind him. The sound echoes in the small room, sending a spike of fear through me.
My fight-or-flight response kicks in. I take off running, darting across the top of the bed and rolling onto my feet on the other side. I make a mad dash for the door, but Stan is faster.
He catches me by the throat, his grip vice-like and vicious, as I start to see stars.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
