Page 63 of Somno Slave

The thought slips under my ribs like a blade. I can’t tell if it’s a promise or a threat.

I can still feel him touching me. Holding himself back. All of it and none of it at the same time. The room is infected with him. That heavy, unbearable restraint that reels only one second away from snapping completely.

My pulse stutters so hard it makes me dizzy.

“Morning,” I repeat softly, like if I say it aloud it’ll make sense.

But it doesn’t.

Because suddenly I can’t stop imagining waking up and finding him there. At the side of my bed.

My lungs forget how to work for a second.

And then he moves. I blink and then he’s gone.

I startle, wake all at once, breath pulling in too sharply, like I’ve surfaced from somewhere deeper than sleep. For a few seconds I don’t move. My chest falls and rises rapidly. Sweat clings to me. I’m wet. Soaked. My thighs drenched in juices.

The cold air hits me like a punch.

What the fuck just happened?

I justfinished. Again.

And it was Deogal doing it—

No. Stop.

My head pounds like it’s answering.

The hangover sits brutal and sour behind my eyes, every heartbeat driving deeper into my skull. My mouth tastes stale. Dry. My stomach rolls unpleasantly when I push myself upright too fast, and for a second the room tilts hard enough that I have to grab the edge of the mattress.

God.

Vodka.

Shots.

The bar.

Olivia laughing somewhere beside me.

Fragments come back in uneven flashes, but none of them feel as vivid as him.

I drag a hand down my face slowly, wincing when light cuts through the curtains and straight into my eyes.

The clock on the wall glares back at me.

07:06 am.

Crap.

I’m back in at eight.

I’m late, but I don’t move. For a long moment, I just sit here. The duvet tangled around my thighs. The lamp burns too bright.

My body still doesn’t believe that it’s just happened.

The clock ticks again.