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“You’re gonna judge me,” I tell him.
“Seriously? Aren’t we past this yet?”
Sighing, I pull my hand from his and look at his face.
“I guess when I imagined this, I always imagined I’d get to see their faces. Maybe have some kind of evil monologue as I stand over Neil while he’s tied up. Get a few tears out of him, maybe some begging…. You see! I told you you’d judge me!” I throw my hands up and stand when I see his expression.
His eyebrows are raised with a look of incredulity. He holds up his hands in mock surrender and laughs before tugging me back down onto his lap.
“Crazy fucking woman,” he says through a laugh, kissing my face. I hit his chest.
“Just because I want them to suffer, doesn’t make me crazy,” I reply succinctly, and he winks.
“Whatever you say, crazy lady. In any case, I wouldn’t worry too much. I mean, since when was burning to death ever considered a good way to go?”
Strangely, it cheers me up.
Chapter Twenty
Bad Romance
Echo
“So, you guys like to party, huh?”
They nod simultaneously, already totally spellbound by the gorgeous creature in front of them that is me.
I turn to the one who had interrupted his friend and run my finger up his chest. This one is the alpha of the group. He grins wickedly, while his friends look on with expressions ranging from envy to pure bewilderment.
“Well, I also like to party… Do you have room for one more?”
“What’s wrong? I thought you liked to party,” he laughs as he plunges the syringe into my arm. I feel the rush and the blackness. A smile crosses my face as I sink under, blissfully unaware of what’s happening to my body….
“Echo!Echo!”
I cry out as I sit up, my entire body covered in sweat. It must be the middle of the night still, it’s dark, but in the dim lighting I can see Killian’s worried eyes on me.
“I was dreaming,” I say needlessly, and he nods. The look of worry doesn’t leave, even as he stands. He returns with a glass of water, which I accept gratefully.
“Thank you,” I repeat, leaning back on the bed while I wait for my pounding heart to slow. It’s been a while since I’ve had dreams like that, but it seems like the recent events are bringing it all back.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks eventually, putting a big hand out between us. I don’t fail to notice how he recognizes I don’t want to be touched right now, instead giving the option and letting me know he’s there. I look down at his hand for a moment.
Do it. Jump. Take the leap.
Swallowing deeply, I put his hand in mine with resolve.
The usual sickness doesn’t come, and my body deflates.
“No,” I answer simply. His frown deepens. He pulls my hand to his face, kissing the knuckle.
“Tell me what happened to you,” he says, his voice quiet.
A small bolt of fear strikes me at the request, and I shake my head adamantly. I haven’t talked about it with anyone but my therapist, and even that’s been a long time.
“No,” I say again, my voice shaking more than I’d like.
“It might help,” he points out, pulling my head to his chest.
