Page 20 of Phobia
None of it was real, and if I said it enough times, I might believe it, too.
She shook her head, undoing the lock of her hair. Her expression pinched again, her feathery brows bending in the middle. “It tried to blink at me, Adam. I know it did.”
“Say it did, then what?” I asked, indulging her.
She tucked her chin into her neck, avoiding my stare. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. My tattooed knuckles ran under her jaw, returning her stare to mine. Her soft sigh wafted across my hand. “I don’t know.”
“There are a bunch of explanations. Maybe Rhys is testing out an animatronic feature.” Even that sounded wrong.
No one made that kind of investment on figures here. In Boston, where the ticket sales would have justified the investment from the foot traffic and publicity alone? Sure.
InRotchapel… no.
But what was the alternative? He was hiding living people inside of wax figures?
An icy chill worse than Katrina’s feet in January crept up my spine.
That sounded too fucked, even for me.
But the whispering of my primitive instincts assured me it wasn’t outlandish and that maybe, just maybe, she had a reason to be on edge in that room.
My molars met, crushing together until pain smarted up my temple and pounded behind my eyes. What better way to hide a string of bodies than right out in the open? I’d be impressed if the concept wasn’t so fucking cocky and on-brand of him.
“Maybe,” she agreed weakly, defeated. “I’m sorry I said that.”
Clearing my throat, I pushed the thought away. “I’m sorry I gave you a reason to.” Sure, I enjoyed getting her all fired up, but I didn’t like hurting her or giving her any motivation to think that I didn’t believe in her or respect her opinions.
Or delusions.
Any residual anger melted away. I’d taken a page out of her brother’s unsolicited marital advice after we’d told them we’d eloped. After the initial shock and Sean’s "welcome to the family spiel", he’d hauled me outside, out of earshot of everyone else, to read me the riot act for our impulsivity.
When it became clear to him this wasn’t a hasty attempt at entrapping his kid sister after losing her for a second time, but intentional and well thought out—at least on my side—he changed his tune.“Let me offer you some advice, Adam. Arguments are inevitable in any relationship, especially a marriage. Remember to repair as soon as you’re both receptive.”
I had always held a lot of respect for her brother, but that was probably the soundest advice he’d ever offered me and I’d taken it to heart.
We didn’t make a habit of staying in conflict for very long. We’d spent too many years apart to invest more than a few minutes upset with each other. Arguing was inevitable. She was a stubborn pain in the ass and my default mode of operation was flipped on to "asshole" even on a good day. I didn’t want her to temper who she was, any more than I believed she wanted me to be as pious as Christ himself.
That wasn’t who we were. It wasn’t what drew us to each other.
Her pronounced teeth flashed, finding her bottom lip. “You were right.”
“About?”
Her soft tits pressed against my rib cage, her fiery eyes flashing up to mine. “I am overtired and horny. This place is giving me an adrenaline rush and I wanna finish what we started in the car.”
Nowthat, that I could get behind. And I had the perfect place in mind. “Oh, yeah?”
She nodded. My hands slid to her tiny hips, the bone brushing against my palms. Guiding her off my feet, I directed her deeper through the crowd, beelining back toward the darkened gallery room with the Founding Fathers in it. I detected her footfalls slowing when she sensed where we were going.
“Adam…”
I knew she didn’t like it in there even if she had been curious about the room, but she had to trust me. The first step to exposure therapy was recognizing that the only way out was through. Sitting in the discomfort was inevitable. What better way to get over your newfound phobia than by fucking your way out of it?
Giving her perspiring hand a comforting squeeze, she returned my grip in stride, finding her nerve. Regardless of what she thought she’d witnessed—and what I was beginning to question myself—this room was perfect for what I had in store for her.
I’d known it as soon as I’d spotted the niche in the wall. It was as though the alcove had been designed for debauched people just like us who wanted to fuck within sight for anyone curious enough to come closer.
Spotting the recess in the wall, I guided her toward it. “Where are we going?” Katrina asked with a nervous laugh, her fear beginning to become an afterthought. I ushered her into the cavity, thrusting her spine against the wall, bracketing my hand against the back of her head to protect her.
