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A smile bloomed over my face.
This night would be ours, together.
She knew I would come, and maybe she would fight, maybe she wouldn’t.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted from her more.
CHAPTER FOUR
CELESTE
Ileft my door unlocked, though I wasn't sure he would use it. What I was certain of was that my stalker had been in my room the night before, that he touched me. Okay, I was ninety percent certain he was in my room. Or perhaps the invasion only happened in my dreams and I came from a fantasy that broke me without his presence.
I woke sticky, clammy and dripping this morning, my thighs aching like they strained around a hard fantasy of a body, my breasts heavy, my nipple raw. Perhaps the alcohol did burn me. Perhaps I imagined everything.
Perhaps, perhaps.
But perhaps not.
The sharp scent of oranges and something darker, like chocolate, drifted about my room when I woke, a scent I’d tasted on the edges of my tongue when I walked into my studio after a weekend off not so long ago. And I wondered, then, too.
My dream ended when the fullness in my mouth disappeared, the break in my dream jerking me out of my slumber. I dozed fitfully for the next hours until the sun rose, my fingers between my legs, playing with myself but not letting myself come, until I ached and was fatigued with it.
And when his message told me this strange connection we shared–-that I welcomed– would end.
My torture, or his.
Tonight.
And I had a few hours until sunset to prepare.
****
When the sun sank belowthe horizon, decorating the small city in a haze between a blanket of darkness and midnight blue studded with emerging stars, I lay in my bed, a clean crossbow bolt in one hand and a knife under my pillow.
The window wasn’t an option tonight–too easy for him to pull me out onto the ground below. I might not fight death off now as hard as I once did, knowing my father would likely win at his fuck up games one day, but I didn’t want to splat on an alleyway, to be found by police and shrouded in yellow tape and coronoer’s clinical gloves.
