Page 155 of Sorrow & Strangers

“Do you want to hear about it?” she mocks. “How I slammed my lips to his the second he opened the door? About how incredible his hands felt on me? About how he slowly pulled his shirt off? About how big his cock⁠—”

My hand circles her throat and squeezes. “How you went there because I was unavailable to fuck you as you truly need?”

Slamming through the mental walls she’s spent the last weeks building, I send her impressions of all the ways I’d fuck her. Images of collars and crops, of her begging for release, teasing, and pain mixed with pleasure. Her pulse hammers wildly against my palm, her breath becoming more unsteady, even without me tightening my grip. When I slowly withdraw from her mind, her eyes are black. I know that if I slide my hand to cup her cunt right now, I’ll find her drenched, and we both know it.

“I will never want you,” she lies. It’s as easy as breathing to her at this point.

“Tell that to someone who can’t feel the way your pulse jumps and pounds when I have my hand around your throat,” I scoff, flexing my fingers. “And how much faster it goes when I’m close to taking every breath from your lungs.” Her lips part, and we both know it is an invitation. “Or who sees the way your eyes darken when I do. The way your body responds. The way it craves this.”

“I—” Her breath hitches, and not from my hold.

“Don’t bother wasting your breath on another lie, or I’ll just take it from you.” I move closer, my lips hovering over hers. “Your lies are nothing next to your truth. The truth that your body screams and your eyes reveal.”

“What do you want from me?” she whispers, and it’s not jagged and sharp like her lies. No, this is a genuine question. A true entreaty. It doesn’t matter.

“I don’t want anything. I’ll take it. Soon.”

Her eyes flash with renewed anger, and I see her power rise in defense, no doubt hoping to enforce her will upon me. You’ll have to train much harder to accomplish such a feat, little fae. Outside of the moments when her power surprised me or took me off guard, she hasn’t successfully matched my ability.

“I want to go home. Now.”

Fine.

I open the portal at her back, letting her fall onto her bed when the support vanishes. She bounces slightly and looks up at me and the portal. I snap it shut before I destroy it with my simmering rage.

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Summer

Every one of my senses is heightened and raw. I was in his room again, yet I didn’t get any information about him from the bare space. Honestly, my eyes never strayed from his. His body pressed against me again, and that anger. That anger was so fucking delicious . . .

I climb out of bed, my body full of nervous energy. I strip on my way to the bathroom and step into the shower, dousing myself in cold water. Despite my attempt to shock his words from my mind so they stop circling round and round, I still feel his phantom touch against my throat. My body remembers the way his hard body fit against me. With a huff, I leave the shower and dry off.

Changing into pajamas, I throw my wet hair up into a messy bun before padding to Alice’s room. She looks up at me, pausing in brushing Steve’s scales with a bright pink toothbrush.

“Steve has to go,” I grumble as I climb into bed with her.

“She doesn’t mean that, Stevie Weavie,” Alice says and returns to his grooming, unconcerned.

I glare at her, and Alice puts Steve on the ground before turning her attention to me. “What are you doing up so late?”

I sigh, looking up at her ceiling. “Max doesn’t have a bed frame,” I begin. “I am twenty-eight years old. I just fucked my gym trainer on a mattress on the floor in his frat boy apartment, which is even more depressing than the gym locker room. And my stalker is . . . Fuck.”

Alice frowns. “Okay, one thing at a time. So, Max is teaching Fuckboy 101. He’s practically writing the course.”

I groan. “How did I end up here?” I ask, covering my eyes with my arm. My life has gone so wildly off course, and it’s so fucking ridiculous, because the course I was on last year wasn’t even an achievable one for me, so why am I mourning it?

“Top-shelf kitty,” Alice says.

“Al . . .”

“I know.” Alice chuckles and cuddles into my side.

“No. I need to tell you something.”

“Hm?”

I exhale and pull my arm from my eyes but keep looking at the ceiling. “You know the stranger is back,” I say.