Page 21 of Wildling

“Okay. So she died of spider bites. That’s hardly newsworthy.”

A pause. “The spiders were planted in her bed.”

I roll my eyes. The Archer and Sarah Crawley should compare notes. “You can’t possibly know that,” I quip.

“I do know that. I know a lot more, too.”

A car horn blasts outside; the same horn radiates through the phone, causing my head to snap up—the same horn. A shiver runs up my spine and spreads over my skin, causing goose bumps. He’s watching me…Right now.

I’ll kill you right now.

That’s when I see the red dot on my arm.

My lips part as I glance out the window, following a red laser beam out into the dark. How is he doing this? “Don’t look so surprised, baby. You have to know I’ve been watching you this entire time.”

I hold my breath as the dot moves to my chest in an almost playful-like manner. “Where are you?”

He doesn’t answer my question. “Lift your shirt, Layla.”

I bite my lip, recalling what he did the first night in the bunker when I refused to obey him. My mind is now torn between what I was forced to believe and the voice on the phone. “Not a fucking chance,” I growl, but who am I kidding. My thighs begin to heat.

“Do it or I’ll blow the brains out of your next-door neighbor.”

I sink back on the couch, a mix of exhaustion from my shitty day and a weariness of his games. Whoever this is isn’t the man in my memory. The Archer was nurturing.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I challenge him. “A police officer is stationed right outside my condo.”

“Don’t test me. I will kill them too if they are the reason I don’t get what I want. What I really want right now is to see you again. Now take off your shirt, wildling, or have you forgotten all the manners I fucked into you while I had you locked up.”

“You’re seriously depraved.”

He chuckles. “You love my depravity, baby. You begged for it for years. You just don’t remember.”

Years…

Shame spreads through me like a rash, and I lift my shirt, revealing the underside of my bra.

“Take it all the way off,” he demands.

With a sinking feeling, I pull my shirt off and unclip my bra, anticipating what he will ask me next. I tilt my head, checking if the cop car below can see me. Perhaps if he sees me shirtless, he’ll realize I’m not okay.

“Be really fucking chill right now,” the Archer warns. My nipples tighten, and heat runs through my core as I cover each breast.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Layla. I miss you so much.”

A deep tug hits my heart. I can’t explain it, but I miss him too. I don’t remember what happened. I don’t remember anything beyond the memories I uncovered with Regina. Why would I block him out when he makes me feel so good?

I don’t know what comes over me. I settle on my back, pressing my breasts out, displaying myself for him. The little red dot circles my nipple, and I follow it with my finger. It moves down toward my belly.

I follow it, intrigued, as it moves further down, settling right between my legs. I slip my hand down and slide my fingers beneath my panties. Wetness slicks between my thighs, and I give off a soft moan.

“Pull them off, baby.”

I shimmy my pants and underwear down, then spread my legs, giving him the perfect target for his gun. I’m so wet, my fingers slide right inside me. My head rolls back, aware of his heavy gaze.

His voice turns raw and filthy. “Dammit, Layla. You have no idea how badly I want to stick this gun right up that cunt and pull the trigger. Then you can join me in hell, baby, where you belong.” My eyes pop open, and flashes of him come back to me. Cold steel and a handsome face. A fresh wave of emotions washes over me, as if I’m sucking them in from the air around me. I’m consumed by both terror and deep sadness. Whatever happened to us out there caused me to block it all out. Whatever he did to me was so bad, my brain refuses to remember.

“Why did you leave me?” I ask him.