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Imagine how it’d feel if he?—
Nope. Absolutely not. I’m sure that, on a scientific level, reenacting my little fantasy with the real-life Demyen would melt every knot in my body for the next twenty years.
But he can never know what I did. Or what I thought about while doing it.
Maybe that’s what’s keeping me awake: anxiety over the remote possibility that he’llknow. He’ll know, somehow, that I workedmyself to a toe-curling orgasm while hallucinating a scenario straight out of his own twisted fantasies.
I need air. I need cold air and cold water and just… whatever works to calm the heat spreading through my veins all over again.
When I slip outside of my room, I glance around and tiptoe past the guards who are more interested in catching a few winks than catching me doing a walk of shame they don’t even know about.
I don’t bother grabbing shoes or flip-flops; I’m too antsy to waste any more time and just need to go somewhere, anywhere, to clear my head.
I break into a light jog when I decide to follow the darkest walkways to the darkest part of the villa I can spot from the main courtyard. It’s not even about dodging the curious gazes of Demyen’s men—it’s more about how the darkness of the night feels more comforting and less like I’m constantly being watched.
After a few turns down the open walkways, I realize where I’m going. Because I’ve been here before, both literally and… well, “recently…”
The archway over the entrance to the dinner party courtyard feels more ominous than it did that night. The golden orbs and delicate strings of lights added a kind of ethereal warmth to the architecture that, right now, bathed in shadows and slivers of moonlight, seem cold. Looming.
All the tables and chairs are probably in storage. The courtyard feels even larger now that it’s not filled with makeshift furniture and dozens of people from Las Vegas’ elite echelons and corrupt underbelly. The pool in the center glows with the safety lightsunder the water, but it’s not enough to luminate the space on its own.
Whatisenough to light the mosaic tiles swirling beneath my feet is the glittering stretch of the Milky Way high overhead in the midnight sky.
Within the city limits, a few stars are able to peek through the light pollution from all the neon signs of casinos and hotels and showtime banners. But it’s not the same.
It’s nothing compared to the breathtaking beauty of the heavens at midnight, out in the deep, dark desert of Sierra Nevada.
“Planning your escape?”
I about damn near jump into the pool—Demyen’s voice right behind me is so unexpected, I do actually jump and clutch a hand to my chest.
When I can finally feel my heart actually beat again, I suck air into my lungs just to let out a sardonic, breathless laugh.
“Ha. No.”
He peers at me like he doesn’t believe me. Or like he wants to devour me. In thegoodway.
He knows. I don’t know how he knows, but he fuckingknows.
In reality, he probably knows absolutely nothing and it’s all in my head. Demyen could just be looking at me like he’s a starving man eyeing a filet mignon because… he wants to? And because he’s a guy, and it doesn’t take much for the blood to drain from a man’s head to his… other head.
Yeah. There’s no way he knows. It’s just him being him.
“I wondered. You wouldn’t get very far.” He gestures to my bare feet, a wry smile twisting his full lips that, in my fantasies, branded me everywhere anyone could see and several places they couldn’t.
I clear my throat to hide the wheeze. “I just needed some air.” I straighten my back, wanting him to see I’m not in the mood to be toyed with. “Don’t get me wrong—wewillbe leaving soon. Just not right now.”
Demyen just nods. I can’t tell if he’s pissed or actually taking my words to heart. “I needed a drink.” He holds up a bottle of something undoubtedly alcoholic and inclines his head toward a row of sunbathing chairs. “Care to join me?”
A part of me wonders if this is a dream. Some weird way for my fantasies to continue while I’m sleeping.
I’m surprised that he actually wants to spend time with me in any capacity other than to torment me.
I’m even more surprised that he just casually glossed over the fact that I announced, to his face, that I refuse to be his prisoner for much longer.
But it’s hard to deny this is real. Especially when I feel him tug on my hand and then pull me on top of him where he’s made himself comfortable on the lawn chair. And instead of doing something to seduce me—or chastise me—Demyen simply tucks his arm around me and we lie there just like that, side by side, gazing up at the stars in the midnight sky.
“What’s your favorite color?” he asks.
