Chapter 52
Dakota
I stared at the window, watching rain trickle down the glass and warp my view of the trees beyond. The voice of my Process Design professor was droning on in the background of my thoughts, going through some HAZOP example. I wasn’t paying much attention. My mind was occupied with other things.
My group had given our presentation for Unit Ops today, and with that stressor in the past, I was free to worry about whatever I wanted.
The actual presentation went as well as I could’ve expected it to, though doing it in front of a man I was currently having so much sex with made me strangely nervous.
He didn’t act differently in public, but…
I knew how the focus on his face looked when he bound my wrists with rope.
He also knew what it looked like when I sobbed to the point of vomiting in the middle of my own hallway, drunk and tormented by memories, overwhelmed by everything in my life.
I flipped my phone face-up on my desk, staring at my empty lock screen, devoid of any notifications.
I’d somewhat convinced myself that seeing Mason at the club was another hallucination—because I didn’t actually see him.
Only smelled, heard, felt. He still hadn’t texted me, which was so unusual for him, that I was almost concerned.
Especially considering what I now knew about him. He was a fallen angel. A Thrausian. I felt owed a conversation about it, or at the very least, some acknowledgment.
Stupidly, I typed out a message to him, then sent it.
Me : Are you ever going to talk to me about this?
I switched my phone off and shoved it in the pocket of my hoodie immediately afterward, resuming my staring out the window while trying to ignore the quickness of my heartbeat. A vibration had me rapidly pulling the device back out, eyes glued to the cracked screen.
Mason : Come over to my place tonight and I will
Me : I don’t know about that
Mason : Don’t care. I’m picking you up later
Biting down on my lower lip, I put my phone away, the heat of a bad decision burning in my cheeks. Going to Mason’s apartment meant being in physical danger. There would be no one else around to protect me, or stop him.
My pulse jumped.
All I was doing was falling right into his trap, and I knew that.
Every interaction with him was designed to confuse my mind into needing his violence.
It’d been like that from the start, from the day I foolishly swam after him into the untamed ocean.
I couldn’t stop coming back to Mason, even knowing he was the decision that would end me.
Even knowing that by doing this I was fucking up any chance of a future with Micah.
What I felt for Mason was hardly desire. More like some vital, wicked hunger.
And hunger didn’t care much about consequences.
Maybe I chased the hurt on purpose. Maybe I needed it.
Or maybe I was just a terrible person, twisting things in my brain to transform my infidelity into something less evil than it was.
But then…I remembered what Micah had done to me in my bedroom, and I hated him all over again.
I’d begun to wonder how many of my emotions he’d taken away before I knew he could do that. Could I actually trust him at all?
What if he took everything from me again? Could I survive that? What if he kept me in that nothingness forever? I had no idea how strong his powers were, or what limitations he had.
It seemed the more I learned, the less I knew.
The noises of everyone packing up had my attention snapping back to the front—to where the TAs were walking down the aisles, passing out stacks of papers.
Holy shit. I swallowed through the sudden lump in my throat, feeling my cheeks flush hot.
Somehow I’d completely forgot we had a test today.
We were allowed to use a one-page reference sheet, but I hadn’t even created one. Too preoccupied with other nightmares.
With my heart beating too fast and heat crawling up my throat, I put all my materials away, trying to breathe as my test was passed down the line to me. It was face-down when it reached me, so I waited for the professor to tell us to begin before flipping it up.
Upon reading the first question, I wanted to break down in tears and leave the classroom entirely.
Panic wrapped around my ribs and my palms started to sweat.
It was like my brain had completely stopped working.
I didn’t remember a thing from this class.
I had no clue how to even start the first question.
I reread it again and again, desperately searching my brain for any thread of knowledge, something to refresh my memory, but everything was blurry, formless.
Skipping to the second question, and then the third, I found the same issue. I didn’t know how to do any of this.
The sound of pencils scratching on paper had me looking around the room, staring at everyone with their heads bent and pencils scribbling down answers. Everyone is writing except me. Am I the only one unprepared?
Warmth pulsed in my face, sheer embarrassment and regret churning in my stomach as I turned my head down. I should’ve studied. How did this entirely slip my mind?
The pencil noises around me magnified to an unbearable volume in my head; too fast, too confident.
My pencil hovered over the page, shook, tapped once, then froze again.
I considered getting up and just walking out; it wouldn’t make a difference in my grade, anyway.
But the thought of everyone’s eyes following my abrupt departure kept me glued to my seat.
I gritted my teeth and started writing, then got rid of it all one second later, digging my eraser so hard into the page it wrinkled. I’m already failing. Why am I here?
My eyes flicked to the clock. There wasn’t much time left, but the words and numbers on my quiz still meant nothing to me.
I forced myself to scribble down some bullshit, just so the quiz wasn’t blank when I turned it in. There was a pit in my stomach as I realized how much this was probably going to affect my grade.
By the time I turned my exam in, I was barely holding myself together, anxiety crushing me from every direction. I ignored all of it, shoving my earbuds in my ears with shaky fingers. I’ll deal with it later.
━━━━━
Mason’s text made me phone buzz on my pillow, but I didn’t have to unlock it and read the message to know what he’d said. Faintly, I’d seen his headlights through the front blinds a second ago.
I tumbled out of my unmade bed, padding across the carpet, past the giant pile of dirty laundry spilling off my chair, then went to my front door. I opened it, flipped Mason off from behind the screen door, then went to pack a bag.
He came inside a moment later, surveying all the half-empty water bottles and cups littering my nightstand, my unwashed jeans strewn across the floor.
I grabbed random shit from around my bedroom, stuffing it all into my tote bag, then went to the bathroom.
My mascara was almost completely rubbed off, and darkness lined my lower lids.
I snatched a makeup wipe from the package, scrubbing the rest off before pushing past Mason back into my bedroom.
“Why are you inside?” I huffed.
“To make sure you’re doing what I want,” he answered. “And I’ll carry your bags.” He motioned to my bulging tote bag and school backpack, which I was dragging across the floor. The panic of forgetting about the quiz today was weighing on me, making me even more stressed about my grades.
“I have homework,” I informed Mason, then dropped everything at his feet.
“Got it.”
Without further instruction, I got my shoes on and headed outside, bypassing all the unopened mail piling up on my laminate countertop. Mason carried my bags to his car idling next to the steps while I locked the front door, then he tugged me around to the passenger side and opened my door.
I tried to ask him questions on the drive to his apartment, but he refused to answer anything, so I just stared silently out the window. It was clear he didn’t like talking about his aspect, or about anything relating to him being an angel. My hopes of emotional intimacy had been misguided.
Inside his place, surrounded by black and the smell of the ocean, I felt miles away from the rest of the world. Time stopped here, the same way it did underwater. Mason led me into his bedroom.
“Do you smell like the ocean because you’re an angel?” I questioned, my eyes roaming his tall frame.
“Yes,” he answered me, shocking me with his candidness. “You shouldn’t be able to smell it as a human, but somehow you fucking can.” He dragged a hand through his hair, muttering something else I couldn’t make out under his breath. “Kapnos. Supposed to make female angels aroused.”
“And it gets stronger when you’re turned on,” I inferred.
“Yeah.”
There was a beat of silence, then he turned and grabbed my waist, guiding me over to sit on his lap on the bed, tilting his head up so his mouth met mine.
I didn’t resist him. I would always be weak for this drug, this medicine which numbed everything else.
Medicine or poison? I’m not good at telling the difference.
My body melted into his, my thighs angling out wider, my arms looping around his neck, nails scratching at his shoulders.
He pulled back, just barely, helping me untie my sweats and kick them off my legs. I planted my underwear-clad ass back on his lap, needing to stay close to him, wanting to be even closer.
I could see in his eyes, how much he hated this. Could see exactly what he wanted to say to me. I hate you going back and forth between us. I want to make you choose.
And I knew he could see my response, shining in my glassed-over irises. If you make me choose, I’m going to choose him.