Page 117 of Satan's Spawn
“Will do, boo.” Hendrix says, her voice further away. “Although I’m more than happy to meet the son of a bitch and kick him right where the sun don’t shine.”
“Yeah, that won’t be easy. Even the sun tries to avoid Crayton Shaw at all costs.” Archer adds, right before the sound of the window opening reminds me of last night.
The dream.
The chill in the room.
What I found on my neck.
“No, and no!” I burst out of my blanket, turning my head to face them.
“Pretty sure I only offered one thing.” Hendrix retorts.
“No Crayton kicking and no window opening.” I say clearly. “You had that shit open all night last night, I refuse to freeze during my recovery nap.”
Surprise! I do have limits.
“What the hell are you talking about, Bee?” Hendrix squeaks.
“I woke up in the middle of the night and had to close the window.” I blow out a long breath. “Let’s just say if I was wearing a glass bra, my nipples would’ve cut straight through them.”
“As funny as that visual is, you psycho, I didn’t open the window.” She pauses. “I mean, yeah, I usually do, but last night I know I didn’t.”
“You must have forgotten.” I breathe.
“Did not,” she insists.
My eyes turn to saucers. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not?” She says through a question.
“What the hell is going on, Bex?” Archer asks, baffled too.
I shoot up in bed. “I had to close the window last night.”
Hendrix’s face contorts. “Well, I didn’t open it. Shit, it was chilly, even for me.”
Heat fills my cheeks as I reach for my bruised neck, which I still have covered in concealer.
There’s no way.
It can’t be.
I remember feeling his presence, but I figured it was because of that damn dream.
Damn him.
It’s one thing to break in when you know nobody is here, it’s a whole other level of fucked up to sneak in through a window during the night when two girls are unconscious.
Is Crayton that sick he would actually strangle me while I slept? Then almost kiss me less than eighteen hours later?
I have no idea anymore.
But I do know there’s only one way to find out.
And that’s from the Spawn of Satan himself.
“Bex,” Hendrix beckons, amused by my antics. “Lost you again.”
