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But he smells so good. So real.
I’m lost in the midnight eyes that seem to hold an entire constellation of stars in their depths, when my gorgeous savior throws me high in the air, like a damn ball.
I scream at the top of my voice, limbs flailing uselessly as I brace for impact.
Oh god.
“You can’t do this!” I hear Valdred scream as I rise higher and higher, farther and farther. "She’ll die!"
I wasn’t saved, then.
The stranger is murdering me.
My instincts are so wrong. I was safer with Valdred, although he was going to fuck me when I didn’t want it. I was even safer with Junis. He might have intended to use me, and hurt me, and humiliate me, but neither would have killed me.
At least, not yet.
Nothing prepares me for the terror when I fall into ice-cold depths. In my panic, I breathe, and inhale water through my nose and mouth, instantly flooding my lungs.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I repeat the mantra over and over, willing it into reality.
I’m in a pool of sorts, deep under the surface.
I try to master my fear. I’m not dead. I’m not dying. No one’s holding me down. I can just swim to shore. I try to ignore the movement I feel stirring beneath me like a tremor, its vibration indicating that something's slithering far below. Something large enough to feel it in the icy water.
I'm not dying. Nothing is trying to eat me. The water doesn't seem heavy as liquid concrete poured over me.
I am not dying.
I repeat it, chanting it in my mind. I have to believe in those words, although my limbs are so heavy, and the water seems as dense as butter.
In the distance, I see the light of the moon shining. Who would have thought I could sink so far in mere seconds?
My lungs are burning, my eyes sting, and my skin feels like it’s being attacked by acid. I’ve never been in this much pain, but I refuse to let Valdred’s words sink in.
This torture doesn’t feel like death. It’s too painful.
Each stroke hurts, but the light is brighter. I’ve almost emerged.
I’m a strong swimmer, and I can do this.
I can.
Never mind that my strength is waning. Never mind that stopping feels oh so easy and quiet.
One more stroke, then another, and the next.
I will reach the surface.
And then I’m going to punch that guy in his pretty face.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
NOT QUITE MURDER
Darina
My hand shivers as it pierces through the seemingly solid, unattainable surface. Something below seeks to hold me down, becoming heavier and heavier. I’m almost there, but I can’t possibly muster the strength to move my legs or my arms anymore.
