Page 42 of Petrify

I’m getting hard again just thinking about it.

I’m too distracted to notice Leo standing at the last window in the hall. He stares out at the grounds, at the eastern pond and the sea of dead gray tree limbs, with a finger of whiskey in a glass.

“Did she taste as sweet as you’d hoped?”

There’s no reason for him to be in this hall. No reason other than to irritate me.

My eyes narrow.

I don’t dignify his question with a response, walking right past him to the shadowed stairwell. He smirks at the window anyway.

I let the darkness swallow me whole.

Chapter 21

The Pianist

The risingsun doesn’t bring clarity, as it normally does. The nightmares aren’t chased away, that lucid dream is still bright in my mind, even when the daylight shines through the curtains and sends sparkling motes across the room.

My exhausted limbs are weightless in the cloud of my bed. Disconnected from my body, my mind is a jumbled mess, vague sensations sparking across my skin—real or not, I don’t know, until I start to doubt where I am,whoI am. Like watching through a massive silver screen, the dust keeps floating, the sun keeps rising, and my body continues to lay there, unmoving.

A vivid dream. That’s all that was.

Until I force this body to sit up, and find the evidence of the tryst between my thighs.

For a moment, I lie to myself, let myself believe that it’s all in my head, a waking dream.

A ghost came to me last night. He?—

He’s supposed to be dead. He isn’talive.

And yet the subtle soreness in my core says otherwise.

If I were the naive girl I’d been when I met Jason, I would believe shame burned beneath my skin, embarrassed at whatI’ve done, what I’ve agreed to. I’ve fallen into a trap, like a fly darting too close to honey.

ButI’ve been so good.

Nausea burns in the back of my throat. I can’t ruin everything again.

It’s not shame in my veins, it’s a need formore.

I have more to give.

Without thinking, I grab my phone. It’s nearly dead, the charging cord between the bed and the nightstand. It doesn’t matter—there are no texts, no missed calls. Nothing from my aunt, or that coworker from two jobs ago, or from the symphony director.

No one checks in. No one needs me.

There’s no one for me to tell.

I’d agreed to meet Julia for breakfast this morning. The Beauchenes are out for the weekend to the city, so the duties of the household staff are minimal.

I swipe my mascara on like normal, dress into a large knit sweater and leggings like normal. Smile at myself in the mirror like normal. Make my way down to the kitchens like normal.

If I act like nothing happened, maybe it’ll become true.

I can’t ruin this for myself. Iwon't. Nevermind the things Bastien promised me. I’m not sure if he will deliver. It could’ve all been some ploy to get his dick wet.

I haven’t felt his eyes on me all morning, and even though it’s what I’ve asked of him, a little voice in my head says I’ve been discarded not that he’s gotten his use of me.