Page 27 of Dance of Madness

You orgasmed, that’s what happened.

I remember that much, even if ten seconds ago I was still imagining that it was a delicious dream. My body arching into the sheets, heat flooding my skin, my mouth parting with a moan I tried to swallow.

Viciousness ripples through my core, sending a toxic mix of horror and shameful arousal slamming through my system.

He was here.

He touched me.

For a second, another thought erupts in my head, sending my hand back between my legs.

No.

He may have touched me, but he didn’tfuckme. That much I can tell, even if it’s been…well…foreversince I’ve felt that sensation.

Years. Literally. Not sincethat night.

But I can tell I didn’t have sex while I was unconscious last night, which is both a relief and, horribly, something else.

…At least, to the sick part of me inside.

Although, when I think about the feral madness of the man who chased me through the darkness and promised to “wrap my ponytail around his fist while I choked on his cock”—I mean,Jesus—I seriously doubt I would have slept through being fucked by him.

Another wave of shame crashes over me. But then, again, it’s followed—God help me—by venomous darkness, twisting low in my belly, burning like a lit match.

I grab the rose and shove it in a drawer. I stuff the panties into my clothes hamper, hoping hiding them will make it less real. I pace the room, running my hands through my hair, shaking off the panic.

No one knows. No onecanknow.

Thisthingthat’s happening to me... It isn’t normal.

I should be terrified.

Iamterrified.

…Fuck, I’m also wet again.

That terrifies me even more.

I shower until my skin turns pink and scrub until I feel raw. I dress quietly, and by the time I leave the house, I’ve reapplied my lipstick twice and told myself a thousand times that it didn’t happen.

That it was just a dream.

But the truth curls in the back of my throat like smoke.

He was here.

And he left a rose and a darkness inside me to prove it.

I throw myself into rehearsal,thinking punishing my body might erase last night from my memory.

Spoiler: it doesn’t.

It doesn’t stop me from pushing harder and harder, though.

Pirouette. Nail the landing. Extend,higher. Hold.

Again.

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