Page 29 of Writhe
My stomach twists at the thought. Because he’s right, I am trembling. Why am I trembling? I shouldn’t have come here. I look to my left, toward the bookshelves, and I see him. Theo stands beside the books, fidgeting with his nails. His dark hair hangs in his eyes. He slowly brings his gaze up to meet mine.
And his eyes.
God. His eyes.
They’re darker, the warmth carved out and replaced with something empty. Something cold. What has happened to him? A shadow clings to him, stretchinglong against the floor, and for a moment, it feels like it doesn’t belong to him at all.
It feels like it belongs to something else.
I take a step towards him. “Theo.”
A slow smirk spreads across his lips. Not his usual smirk that I’ve seen. It’s not playful—not teasing. “She should be scared,” he says, voice like gravel and rusted nails.
I freeze.
No. No, no, no, no.
I shake my head softly, barely noticeable, but Theo catches it. Of course he notices. His eyes flick to my mouth, watching the movement of it quivering.
I try again. Ihaveto try again. “Theo,” I whisper, barely a breath—a plea. What has happened to him?
His jaw tics.
For a fraction of a second, something flickers across his face. A familiar flash of something that reminds me of him, but then it’s gone, swallowed whole by whatever this latest version of him is.
I swing my head back toward the doctor, my brows furrowing. “What did you do to him?” I seethe.
The Doctor hums, ignoring my question as he taps his glass against his metal desk. “Oh, don’t be so cruel, boy. She’s confused. Such a pitiful thing to think I did thistoyou. I did nothing, Eliza. I only awakened what Theo kept dormant. You will see. You will meet the monster he is.”
I can’t breathe. The air coats my lungs like syrup, sticky and suffocating.No. No, that’s not right. Theo isthis shy, timid guy. Tall and lanky, weird, and sweet. He isn’t this domineering man who stands there, waiting for orders.
“Take off your clothes, Dollface,” Theo says. He drags a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face and blows out a breath like he’s bored with my theatrics. His knuckles flex, the thick veins carving up his forearms, the way his sleeves of his black t-shirt strain against his muscles.
For a moment, I don’t react to his demands. My brain stalls, desperate to pretend I misheard. But then the doctor exhales, clicking his tongue in feigned disappointment. “It’s rude to not listen to your master, pet.”
I swallow the knot in my throat, my fingers trembling as they move to the hem of my sweats. Theo doesn’t move—not at first. But when the fabric peels away from my skin, inch by inch, revealing the leather strapped harness, something shifts in his expression. His pupils dilate, swallowing the pale blue of his irises. He exhales, slow and controlled, but his body is still taut. He’s restraining himself, I can see that. And it sends a shiver right down to my pussy.
This is wrong. Everything about this is wrong. And yet, heat coils low in my stomach, my pussy flooding. I hate it. I hate myself.
My sweatpants and sweatshirt pool at my feet.
“Oh, I do love when they learn,” the doctor muses, sipping his whiskey, his gaze raking over me like I’m nothing more than an experiment, a show for him to watch. “Isn’t she exquisite, Theo?”
Theo takes a slow step forward, not looking at the doctor. His eyes are only on me. Another step. Then another, until he’s close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. He reaches out, his slender fingers gripping my chin, tilting my face up to his. His smirk is slow, knowing, and his tongue drags softly across his bottom lip.
“Open your mouth.”
My breath catches, but he doesn’t blink—doesn’t falter. He means it.
“I won’t ask twice, Dollface.”
The heat of his body pressing against me radiates against my skin. His scent fills my lungs—clean linen and something richer, headier, like whiskey and sin.
And his eyes . . .
I flinch when his fingers press against my lips, dragging across their curve before he forces his way inside. The pads are rough against my tongue, and my breath stutters—panic, and confusion warning inside me. I try to pull back, but his grip tightens, yanking me forward, my bare feet scraping across the hard floor.
“Open up.”
