He’s playing with me.
“Oh, you’re joking,” I say, relieved. “Of course you can’t see what people want by looking into their eyes. How silly of me.” I start walking toward the door, and he follows. “No one can do that… My God, what a thought.”
He stops moving, and even though I’m directly in front of him, and there’s no call for me to stop moving as well, I do.
I become aware of his proximity in rough, jagged increments. I feel his body heat first, then his mass. His physical presence, and then the air that’s thick because it’s touched him. He’s behind me. His chest is mere inches from my back. “C-can they?” I splutter.
“Do you doubt me, omega?”
His voice is lemon and honey at this time of night.
My thoughts are liquor and fizz. Tiny bubbles that pop and leave a vacant space in their wake.
“Yes, I doubt you,” I prattle. “Of course I doubt you. There’s no way you know what I—”
A warm breath on the back of my neck snuffs my words out mid-sentence, rendering me mute.
“Do you want me to prove it to you?”
His voice is lemon and honey, yes. Definitely. But it’s whiskey too. Neat whiskey. Whiskey with no ice, and nothing watering it down.
“Yes. No! I mean, don’t be ridiculous, of course you can’t do tha—”
A hand curls around my chest and pulls me backward sharply, all but lifting me onto my toes. I scramble for balance, but not for escape.
Lips move a fraction from my neck, a fraction from my earlobe. “Little mouse…” The sound enters my body through the back of my skull, leaking through tiny crevices in bone matter and seeping directly into the deepest, darkest part of my lizard brain. “Run!”
15
Jensen
Thesecondthosesmooth,baritone soundwaves land, reason flutters, spinning out and morphing into something different. Something fleeting. Something wispy and surreal. My feet leave the ground and slam down.
Right one and then left.
I take flight.
I’m not sure I mean to. I definitely don’t consciously intend to do it. It’s one of those decisions I don’t make purposefully.
It’s a decision that makes me.
My body moves like water. Like muscle and fluid merging together. My lungs fill with such abrupt force, it’s like a balloon has been inflated in my chest. My arms and legs pump, ligaments burning from the shock of the speed of acceleration.
It’s a reflex, not a plan.
A reaction, not a strategy.
Survival instinct swiftly engaged.
I take off so fast and with such fury that the lord doesn’t react until I’m several paces away from him, flying toward the garden path. My heart beats savagely, crashing against the confines of my rib cage, ringing in my ears.
My thoughts slow.
My vision tunnels. Dark shadows lighten, turning navy blue instead of black. Shrubs and trees snap into sharp focus. I see my route as though it’s a line, clear and hand-drawn. Something that has existed for ages. Marks put on a map a long time ago.
I throw my gaze to the east side of the garden, to the maze, and everything that doesn’t lead there ceases to exist. I run like my life depends on it. Like there’s danger behind me, and freedom ahead of me. Like my past is trying to catch me, and my future is within reach.
Over the cacophony of my heartbeat, my wheezing lungs, the wind in my face, and the rustle of leaves above me, one sound stands out above all others. Singular and proud.
