Page 34 of His Dark Purpose

Grabbing the nearest cuff, he tugged it close to his sleeping beauty. Sprawled out in his absence, one of her arms was strewn fortuitously in his direction, and with a little effort, he was convinced he could persuade both her flesh and the metal to meet.

His plan did little to assuage the twisting energy inside him. It wasn’t like Kyle to be anxious about things or second guess himself. He was a man of confidence, but falling in love meant he was vulnerable for the first time in a long time, and while he adored Amy, he didn’t appreciate the way his feelings for her made him susceptible.

His heart galloped as, moving her arm gently toward the metal, he slid the bracelet over her wrist. The sound of the lock fitting into place reverberated louder than any click he’d ever heard, her soft moan at the subtle shift in position almost robbing him of breath.

“Oh!” She mewled, stirring as her wrist adapted to its new position.

Don’t wake up!

Holding his breath, he froze. If she woke up at that moment, she’d be angry about the cuff. Better that she settled and slept while he whipped up something nutritious from them both. If she was calm, he’d release her when he returned.

Relief washed over him as she slipped back into a rhythmic breathing pattern, the sounds of her relaxed air intake convincing him it was time to move. Retreating slowly across the carpet, he prayed to whatever entity he was supposed to believe in that the addition to her wrist didn’t disturb her again. His hopes rose when he reached the door, his fingers searching for the handle while his gaze remained riveted to the bed.

She was asleep and apparently unaffected by the unforgiving bind attached to her wrist. He’d got away with the deed—for the time being.

Pulling the door open, he maneuvered around it and slipped into the black hall. He pushed the door closed behind him and released the air he’d been holding on to.

Thank God.

He’d race to the kitchen and prepare something she’d enjoy—it was the least he could do after keeping her as his captive.

It was time for a new start.

Time for their love to solidify and for trust to be rebuilt.

Kyle couldn’t wait to see how happy Amy would be when she saw the effort he’d gone to.

***

Amy

It was the strangest thing. Amy was falling through the air, feeling the wind rushing past her face, her hair whipped back behind her and her body supported by the enveloping gusts, yet there wasn’t the faintest flicker of fear inside her. Contrary to terror, in fact, she recognized the emotion growing inside as excitement—a tingling ball of nerves that bristled with hope and joy. She was free—free to tumble through the clouds and dance with the airflow, free to be herself—and there wasn’tanyonewho could control her.

“Yes!”

She wasn’t actually sure if she spoke, but the word definitely flitted through her mind as she somersaulted.

Shewasthankful.

After so long confined by rules, debt, and guilt, she was liberated, and even though her sudden emancipation made no sense, she didn’t seem to care. She’d been cartwheeling through the atmosphere for an unquantifiable amount of time, and no ill harm had come to her. The ground wasn’t getting any closer, and there was no sign of dread curling in her tummy—life had rarely been so good—so she intended to revel in the protracted pleasure and justbeAmy.

The Amy whose children had all grown up and no longer needed her, the Amy whose debts were finally paid off, and the Amy who had inserted some well-needed boundaries into her life. She was an Amy who’d finally got her shit together.

The very best Amy possible.

Exhilarated, she threw her arms back behind her and closed her eyes. On some logical level, Amy accepted the blue skies around her weren’t real—they couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible thatshe couldbe flying, but it was easy to subdue her logical mind in the undulating sanctuary of her utopian dreamscape.

Life there was perfect, and she was cool, content, and empowered.

In the depths of the wondrous place she found herself in, there was no pain or injustice—only the deep, grounding sense that everything was possible and thatanything she wanted was within her grasp.

Throwing her head back, she called out with glee, amazed that her heavy and often troubled mind had contrived something so incredible, and for those few sublime moments, that was all she needed—euphoria as she cartwheeled.

It wasn’t until she tried to lower her arms that the initial, niggling doubt seeped back into her consciousness. Her left one slipped back to her side with the same ease and grace the quality of all her movement seemed to have, but the right one was stuck—forced outright and unable to move to her will.

Why?

She turned her head to find the answer, her brow furrowing when there was no obvious ill. Her arm was zooming through the blue just like the rest of her—so what was wrong?

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