Page 193 of The Devil We Crave
AmI even a victim?
I’m not so sure.
I’ve always hated the “can’t rape the willing” line that you sometimes see in thirsty comment sections. Even as a joke, it’s always rubbed me the wrong way.
But now, I can’t look in the mirror without it flashing in front of my eyes.
Is it wrong that Achilles stalked me when I’ve been fantasizing aboutbeingstalked?
Is it wrong that he utilized the methods he did to introduce me to a world of kinks—primal, consensual non-consent, somno, knife play—if those areexactlythe dark fantasies I’ve always secretly harbored?
A week after seeing that thumb drive, I still don’t know the answer. In fact, the more time I spend inside my head analyzing the whole thing, the more complicated it feels. There's no black and white when it comes to this.
It’s all just a smeared gray. Which sucks, because it means however I decide to move on from this, there are no “this is right and that is wrong” directions.
Do I stay, knowing this all started with a lie?
Or leave, knowing I’ll never again touch the darkness IknowI need?
If I stayed, would it be because of what I feel forhim, or the fear of never again feeling that thrill he gives me? That almost makesme sound like an addict. If I left, would it be for the sake of my pride, or because I truly do feel wronged?
“Here, drink this.”
I blink, pulling my gaze away from the rocky shore and the ocean behind Laz’s house to the mug that Wren sets down in front of me.
“What’s this?”
“Anji bai cha.”
My brows lift as I look up at her. “Excuse me?”
She grins. “Fancy tea. I kinda feel you need a little razzle-dazzle right now, and it was this or champagne.” She rolls her eyes. “But since inthis house, the latter is under lock and key…” She clears her throat and raises her mug. “Uh, kompai?”
I laugh as I tap my own steaming mug to hers. “Cheers.”
Shit.
That tea reallyisgood.
Wren shrugs. “Dude, it’s been a week. I wouldloveto gab, or just plain trash talk that motherfucker…” She makes a face. “Literally any direction you want to go. But I still don’t even know what the hell happened.”
I glower into my tea.
“Still trying to get her to talk?”
I glance up. Galina, Ari, and Lucia are back from the walk down the shore they set off on barely twenty minutes ago. I don’t thinkLaz is even home, but Wren assured us it would be cool if we all came to hang at his franklygorgeoushouse fronting the water.
I knew Laz was wealthy, but…shit. It’s like something straight out ofArchitectural Digest, with views of the sound from his back patio that are unreal, especially toward sundown.
“I wasso close!” Wren groans, shooting Galina a look.
I snort. “Believe me, you weren’t.”
Arianna giggles as she takes a seat next to me and leans over to sniff the tea. “Oh, that smells delightful.”
“Want some?” I smirk. “Our barista Wren is taking orders.”
“I am not!” my friend huffs. “You just want me to stop questioning you.”
