20. Scarlett
SCARLETT
THE HALLWAY JUST GOT NARROWER
Go to sleep, Scarlett. Pretend you’re not stuck in a foreign world, surrounded by an enemy army, while Sebastion’s phone buzzes incessantly under your pillow.
Text after text, call after call.
Go to sleep, despite wearing another man’s hoodie and nothing else, since he told you to shower, but didn’t bring your suitcase back.
And there’s no way in hell you’re walking through that door to search for it.
Go to sleep, Scarlett. Because the real-world friggin’ sucks. But then again, the dream world is rarely better.
Please just go to sleep.
I lie impossibly still in the middle of a massive king-sized bed, curled into Sebastion’s much-too-large hoodie, and still, I shiver under the heavy blankets.
Not because it’s cold, but because I’m not sure being here is any safer than standing in front of my apartment door and waiting for whoever the hell is trying to terrify me.
Go to sleep, Scar.
My bedroom door creaks open, almost completely silent in the night, but the snick may as well be a cannon’s blast as far as my nervous system is concerned. Fear slices through my veins like bubbling lava, burning everything it touches, and scorching the oxygen straight out of my lungs.
A small sliver of light cuts into the room, and I… remain frozen. Can’t move. Won’t move. If I stay still, my intruder might believe I’m not really here.
A hulking shadow passes through the crack in the door, inching into the room on light feet, then the door closes again.
Boom!
Tears burn the backs of my eyes. Scalding.
Itching. Infuriating. I hold my breath, if only to stop it from becoming a bouncing sob that alerts my intruder to my presence.
But that shadow is comfortable moving in the dark, unhesitating as he crosses the room and comes to a stop at the foot of my bed.
Get up and fight, Scarlett! Why won’t you fight for once in your damn life?
“It’s just me, Princess.” Sebastion’s voice rumbles in the dark, but instead of calming me like he seems to think it should, his easy words inject spires of anxiety into my blood.
Bending and untying his laces, he toes his boots off and lets them fall to the floor with a muted thud.
“I can feel your panic.” He peels his shirt over his head. “I need you to take a breath.”
“What the hell are you doing?” I shoot up tall and bundle my blankets tight against my chest, then I scrunch my eyes shut as he callously flips a lamp on and bathes the room in harsh, bright light. “Sebastion! Get out!”
“Out?” A low, infuriating chuckle rolls from the depths of his naked chest. Naked and inked and so fucking muscular, I’m not entirely convinced they didn’t have him pose for the protein tubs.
“This is my bedroom.” He unbuckles his belt and yanks the leather free of his pants.
Dropping it to the floor so it lands with a clatter right beside his boots, he taps my foot. “Move over. I’m beat.”
“Are you insane?” I shove my blankets off and fly to my feet in nothing more than his oversized hoodie. “Get out!”
“Not getting out.” He unfastens the button on his pants and tugs the zipper down to reveal silky black boxer shorts.
Slowly, his eyes come up to mine and his lips quirk infuriatingly to the side.
“My hoodie looks good on you, though. Where I come from, wearing another man’s clothes is kinda like saying you’re ready to fuck.
Or that we recently fucked.” A yawn overtakes his entire frame, contorting his face and squeezing his eyes shut.
He brings his arms up, stretching until his biceps bulge and his pants fall another inch lower on his hips.
“But seeing as how we didn’t fuck yet, does that mean you’re telling me you’re ready to go now? ”
“Absolutely not!” I snatch up my pillow, and from beneath it, the phone he and I now co-own. “Go sleep somewhere else!”
“Not sleeping somewhere else.” He slides his pants off and reveals thick thighs smattered in dark hair, then crawling onto the bed, he shamelessly flops into the spot I just left.
“Mmm. It’s toasty warm and smells like you.
” He grabs one of the three remaining pillows and beats it into submission, then he hugs it beneath his chest and snuggles in for sleep on his belly.
“It’s late, Princess. I haven’t slept since…
” His eyes close and a contented sigh slips from between smacking lips.
“I don’t even know. Day before yesterday, I think.
” He taps the mattress. “Climb back in. Time for sleep.”
“You’re out of your damn mind!”
“Won’t fuck you tonight,” he mumbles sleepily. “Not sure I have it in me. But if you’re really set on it, I can turn to my back. You ride, I sleep, we both win.”
“Sebastion!” My heart hammers painfully in my chest. “What are you…” My breath comes out on a sob. “I can’t!”
“I’m not leaving this room. I’m not sleeping anywhere else.” He hums deep in his throat, already most of the way asleep. “I was awake all day and night driving your ass halfway across the country. So get in. No riding.” He taps the mattress again. “Won’t even touch.”
“I-I don’t know where else to go.” I shakily swipe fresh tears from my cheeks. “Please, Sebastion, I—”
“Don’t go anywhere else. Not safe.” His breathing evens out. His smug grin falls into flat lines.
Anxiety pounds in my blood as I blink, blink, blink sizzling tears from my eyes and set my knee on the bed. “Are you faking?” I lean closer and search the side of his slack face. “Sebastion? Are you messing with me because I said mean things?”
His breath comes out on a soft whistle, and his back lifts and falls with consistent, deep breaths.
I don’t think he’s faking.
Groaning, I glance around the brightly lit room, across to the door, then over to the sitting area near the television. I study the bed once more, and when I’m convinced he’s actually asleep and not just being an asshole, I choke out a whimpering exhale and hug my pillow to my chest.
I peek at the foot of the bed and the extra blanket laid across the end. With a runny nose that makes it hard to breathe, I carefully tug the blanket out from beneath Sebastion’s long legs, then I shuffle across to a desk tucked into the cabinetry, set my things on top, and snag the chair instead.
My legs feel like jelly. My feet torment me with pins and needles.
My entire face feels swollen and hot, too many tears, not enough strength.
But I do what I should’ve done the instant Sebastion walked out an hour ago: I set the chair in front of the door, wedging the high back beneath the handle and angling the feet to stop anyone else who might like to come in.
I lock myself in a room with another man. A large, terrifying, cruelly unkind man whose body is more than twice the size of mine. If he wanted to hurt me, it would be easy. If he wanted to have sex… my consent hardly matters.
Sweat trickles along my spine in spite of the chill in the air.
My pulse thunders in my throat, and my tears make it almost impossible to see.
Still, I step away from the barricaded door and sweep up my blanket and pillow.
I switch out the light and make my way into the bathroom, where a massive tub creates a stark white beacon amongst midnight black tiles.
I swallow a fresh sob when my phone buzzes again.
And again, and again, and again. Ignoring it, I toss the pillow into the tub, then I shake the blanket out and wrap it around my body the way I would wrap a towel.
I pull the hood of Sebastion’s hoodie up to cover my head, then climbing in, I slide down again and pray for sunlight.
Everything is so much scarier at night. The shadows are deeper, the loneliness, lonelier, and a woman’s insistent texts, louder.
My hands shake as I search desperately for comfort, twisting and turning until my pillow wedges itself in the gap between my shoulder and head, then I unlock Sebastion’s phone, the one that accepts calls and texts from Lincoln too. But it’s not Linc’s name I study through tear-filled eyes.
It’s not him, or Nova, wishing me sweet dreams.
Serena:
I heard you were back.
Swing by my room after you’re done with your uncle.
I’ve missed you, Bas.
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I don’t know who Serena is, but I know what her breasts look like. Her ass. Her bed. And I know that even though Sebastion has only been home for an hour, she would really like to see him.
I think I fell asleep around three. Maybe four.
When Sebastion’s phone finally turned silent and my throbbing headache eased just enough to allow me rest, I think that’s when my brain mercifully stopped.
But now I wake with a start, crusty-eyed, aching stomach, and most terrifying of all, not in the bathtub.
My heart races as I open my eyes and find Sebastion’s face a mere few inches from mine.
Adrenaline pounds in my veins and turns my palms sweaty, because his warm breath bathes my cheek and his thick lips settle forward into a pout.
We share a pillow and blanket; we share a bed I never crawled into, but not one single part of his body, not a limb, not a finger, nor a toe, touches me.
Even unconscious, he respects my space, though he certainly carried me in here.
Miraculously, I slept through it.
My pulse thunders against the side of my throat, beating like a drum until I turn dizzy. It’s still dark in here, though it doesn’t feel like middle-of-the-night dark. Shadows still encroach, but early morning shadows are not nearly as terrifying as those that taunt a woman at two a.m.
Heavy, synchronized footsteps move outside. Not just men marching, but men jogging. A whole freakin’ platoon of them.
Sebastion said this part of the property is for family only… right? He said the soldiers eat together in that big room, where bench seats create rows and food is served at six, twelve, six, and twelve.