Page 2 of Wildling

“I’m coming to you. Don’t go anywhere.”

I wrap my hands around myself as chills roll through me at the sensation of being watched. I frown and glance out the window. “No. Don’t bother. I’m going to bed. Everything is fine.” My hometown is two hours away, tucked deep in the interior of British Columbia, nestled in the Rocky Mountains. I haven’t stepped foot at home since the day I left.

I’m a terrible daughter for treating my mother this way and icing her out. We were so close when I was growing up, right until the day I left. Now she’s a stranger—a stranger who couldn’t protect me when I needed her the most.

A pause. “Fine. But I need you to make an appointment with Regina.”

Regina also happens to be from Stormwood and is Beth’s childhood best friend. Regina got me to a point where I could function in society again. “Yeah, I’ll make an appointment with her first thing,” I tell her.

“Maybe I will just send Gabe over?”

A bitter taste hits my tongue. “No.”

“Okay.” The way she sounds so disappointed.

Gabe is an international art dealer my mom met while purchasing some art for our house. Before I was abducted, she set us up on a date, saying we had so much in common because I like to paint and he likes to sell paintings.

We hooked up once, and I promised Beth I would see him again. He did, however, commission me to paint my experience in the bunker and has buyers lined up for my art all over the world. He’s very interested in working with me.

I flop onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. “He’s out of town until Friday.”

“Maybe I should come tonight. I don’t like the thought of you being alone.”

I’m never alone…not really. My senses are always on fire.

“Mom. Don’t drive into the city for this. Honestly, I’m okay.”

She huffs out a breath. “Are you sure you don’t want to come home, Layla? We can figure everything out from here. You’ll be safer here.”

I stare out at the big city around me. People everywhere, horns honking all the time, sirens swirling in the night. “I’m sure.”

“Call me as soon as you’re awake.”

She hangs up, and I change from my sweater to a light camisole and get ready for bed. I grab my pill bottle and the small vodka bottle I keep by my bedside, downing the last two pills with a generous swig of the burning liquid.

One pill on its own does nothing…two together make sure I stay asleep. This is part of the reason I’m so amenable to my mother’s interventions. Regina always gives me the strongest meds.

I curl up on my bed and drift off, leaving the television on. I do this because, as I’ve found, silence is the loudest sound there is, and I prefer not to sleep in it. That’s when my demons claw at me. My eyes grow heavy with each passing moment, and my body starts to buzz from the drugs.

What people don’t seem to grasp is that I was never alone in that bunker. My heart aches for him, and when you can’t have what you want the most, you must be creative. It’s in the deepest part of my mind, in the darkest hours of the night, that I feel him. That’s when I remember him the most.

My mind slips as I shift from deep sleep to a place of subtle awareness. My body is paralyzed as I sense someone near me. His earthy scent and ominous presence consume me. In the darkness, those golden eyes are etched so deeply into my psyche. It’s not long until his warm hands run along my stomach, his fingertips softly grazing my skin. Taunting and teasing me with his presence.

His punishments always started so sweet.

I arch into him, my body moving in unison with my instincts. Every inch of my skin is on fire as if my body craves his burning touch.

“Even in death, I still want to break you,” he says. His voice is dark and deep and sends a shiver up my spine I’m convinced is straight from hell.

I try to call for him, to reach and feel him, but I’m paralyzed, my body is stuck in that space between sleep and awareness.

This is where I get to experience him again. Where my body meets my soul on the edge of reality. My eyes are shut tight, but the scene of him lingers. A familiarity that brings me to that primal place where I face who I am. Like he’s holding a mirror and I’m staring at the devil himself.

My mind races, and I see her face, her mouth open, screaming in agony as she dies a bloody death. I’m back in that car, my heart beating as I speed off down the highway.

He’s not real…this is a dream, and perhaps he never was real, but he still saved me. My vivid truth is worse than anyone would ever imagine. I needed someone who could control and punish me for everything that I am. He did that for me.

He slowly traces his fingers down my body, pushing my panties aside. He gently strokes my clit, building the pleasure until my core tightens around his touch. He slaps my pussy, then repositions my limp body as if I’m nothing more than a doll. He guides my hands above my head, securing my wrists with something soft and smooth, like satin. I don’t fight him—obeying is much easier.