Page 125 of Safe Word

Maybe because I didn’t deserve it. Not after last night, not after the way I’d let my demons circle her like vultures.

Swiping them away one by one with swift, decisive flicks, I paused at her name.

My thumb hovered over the white ‘P’.

And then I tapped, if only to hear her voice.

I held my breath as the voice message filled the speaker. The words were dragged down by the weight of sleep. She must have just woken up when she left that voicemail.

Fuck.

She was probably confused. I wondered if she remembered any of it. Wondered whether she remembered I’d grazed the skin of her thigh… lingered too long over her ankles.

I dragged in a breath and pushed to my feet, limbs leaden and stiff. Peeling off my damp shirt, I felt my body moving in slow-motion. The jeans followed, both pieces of fabric hitting the floor with a wet slap.

I couldn’t call her back. Not in this state. I would make a mistake. A terrible… fucking… mistake.

With my eyes shut tight, I drew on the last of my strength to ground myself. And when I opened them again, I tapped on the Obsidian app and typed in the address of the hotel Scarlett had sent me once before, and pressed ‘Send’.

Tonight, I needed to let my demons off the leash.

All of them.

And after that—

I didn’t let my mind finish the thought. Instead, I tapped on the photo of Vinnie’s grinning mug and his arms locked tight around me like a brother who still believed there was something in me worth holding on to.

He picked up on the second ring.

‘You dead yet?’ he muttered, almost bored.

‘Schedule a fight tonight,’ I said, fast.

There was a pause. A long exhale. Then a groan, weighted and tired of my shit.

‘Don’t drink,’ he warned simply.

I didn’t answer. Just flicked the phone towards the living room, watched it bounce off the open door with a hollow clack and land face-down on the grey carpet.

The silence that followed felt louder than a scream.

Scream?

Nah… Monsters didn’t scream.

They swallowed the sound, turned it into rage.

And roared.

The lobby of the hotel buzzed weakly with the hum of distant conversations and the clatter of heels against the marble floor. I clutched the smooth keycard in my palm – the only barrier between me and the woman waiting for me upstairs. Her name alone stirred a primal ache that no amount of distraction could dull. She was waiting, and I couldn’t get to her fast enough. The thoughts of her lips, her body, the way she gave herself to me fully – they burned in my chest. It pushed out every other thought, every other damn thing that didn’t matter but pressed down on me anyway.

The steel doors of the lift slid open, and I stepped in, hitting the button for the sixth floor hard enough to make the panel rattle. The calm in the lift did nothing to soothe me. My blood was already hot, my body wound too tight, the contact lenses scraping at my eyeballs – which only sharpened the edge of my nerves.

The fucking receptionist’s judgmental glare when he clocked them had been a blip in my day. I let him think what he wanted. I had one thing on my mind, and it sure as hell wasn’t him.

The doors opened, set me loose into the dim hallway, the carpet muffling my footsteps as I pulled the mask into place. Its snug fit reminded me swiftly that I was playing a role now. Though there was no pretending the hunger coiling in my gut wasn’t real.

I imagined her tied up, waiting helplessly, as though she’d been thinking of me just as desperately. The idea teased at the pit of my mind, warping into something darker. But she couldn’t very well tie herself up, could she?