Page 19 of Vallaverse: Twist
Hours, months, millennia later, the R finally wanes in my bloodstream, and I can feel myself coming back together. Bit by torturous bit. The first thing that registers is the feel of her hairbrushing across my chest and face. The next thing is the slick sweat between our bodies. Then the thick, tacky feel of her body surrounding mine.
“Wait,” I mumble, as the discomfort begins to mount. “Wait.”
She pauses mid-thrust, smiling down at me, her eyes empty of anything good. “Again? She said you may need some more, but this is ridiculous.”
“What?” I ask, trying and failing to grip her hips to lift her off of me. “What do you mean?”
She leans over to get something off the nightstand, but I'm still too muddled to keep track. She leans down, breathing hotly into my face before her lips fall against mine. Then a sharp sting bites into my bicep, and I gasp.
She raises back up and resumes her grinding thrusts as my eyes roll back.
“Two days,” she grunts, but it sounds far away. “I paid for two days of you, and I'm getting them.”
Chapter Nine
Brooks
I answer the phone on the fourth ring. It's too early in the morning for this call to be anything but an emergency. The only reason I'm awake right now is because of the nightmares. Every goddamn night for two weeks, the same bad dream. A skewed, tortured version of the last time I saw Laz. You're not supposed to dream in color, but these dreams have a red hue. The same red as that woman's dress, the exact shade of her lipstick. My subconscious is stained with that garish shade of red.
“Hello?”
“Brooks,” Laz gasps my name like a prayer or a plea.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing. I… nothing. I just wanted… I needed …”
“Where are you, Laz?”
“Home. In the bedroom. Beside the bed, on the floor.”
Panic seizes my chest. “Why are you on the floor? Are you hurt?”
“You didn't change your number.” He sounds like he is drifting, but I can hear the exhaustion in his tone.
“No,” I say, sitting up straighter. “I didn't.”
“Why not?”
“Why would I?”
Silence for a few moments.
“No,” he breathes, “I guess you wouldn't. Where are you?”
I don't like this. Something is very wrong. “I'm at home,” I answer, keeping my voice steady and low. “In bed.”
“I miss it.”
I take a breath. “The bed?”
“Everything,” he sighs.
“What's wrong, Lazarus? What happened? Tell me.”
“Shh,” he rasps. “Shh. Just stay.”
I don't know what he means, but I wait nonetheless. A few seconds drag on before a door slams, and then I hear Laz's Alpha.
