Page 15 of Preyless
“Girly, you know better than to bullshit me at this point. What’s going on?”
I chuckled. He had me there.
In the year I had been working for John, we had somehow grown closer by each night that passed, as it was the only time he ever stepped foot in his hotel. He claimed he preferred the quiet to do paperwork and financing, but considering he was in once, sometimes even twice a week, I had the sneaking suspicion he just needed someone to talk to every now and then.
Especially after Mary’s passing months ago.
I didn’t mind it, though.
There were times I equally needed someone to talk to.
Being lonely was almost as debilitating as being lost, if they didn’t already coincide.
I dropped my faux, placating smile. “Can I ask you something personal?”
He raised an eyebrow and leaned against the check-in counter before crossing his arms. It was a humoring sight, to say the least, considering he fit the bill of the signature old man look. From his blue button-down shirt and khaki pants to his white, slicked back hair and unruly mustache—there was no mistaking the life experience he carried. He responded, “Go on…”
“Have you ever had something bad happen to you…only for you to crave it happening again? Like, you shouldn’t want it—it damaged you—but you also don’t remember who you were before it all?”
Understanding lit his face. “You thinking about him again?”
“Unfortunately.”
“I can’t say I’ve been in your shoes, girly. You met Mary. She was the love of my life, and I would have done anything for her.” He smiled sadly, and I nodded, urging him to continue. “But I can say that I have hit terrible lows in this life. And while I absolutely never want to experience them again…there is somehow comfort in the silence and solace of misery when it was all you knew of, once upon a time. So, I don’t crave it, but I also understand it.”
I swallowed roughly and turned away from him as I asked my next question. I had to beat around the bush, as I was absolutelynottalking to John about my sex life. But my therapy appointment was still a week out, and I needed the answer now. “Say you found a way to potentially take control of the situation, though. Finding comfort in the misery…but on your terms. Would that make it better?”
“I would think so. As long as you’re not actually putting yourself in genuine danger.”
I almost wanted to laugh.
That was, unfortunately, the kicker.
I had no fucking idea what I was doing.
And what I wanted to find on Preyless? It was dangerous as fuck.
I wanted strangers to hurt me—to hunt me down like a cat with a mouse—and there was no telling on how I would react once it happened.
You could only rely on porn so much for confirmation of likes and dislikes. Add trauma into the equation? You might as well be making an atomic bomb.
Or…you could be making the cure for insanity.
He started again. “Should I be worried, Rory? Is there someone wanting to hurt you? Or are you wanting to hurt yourself?”
I turned to him quickly. “No! God, no. I don’t even know if they actually want anything to do with me. You know my brain, though. Overthinking-central.”
John blinked. “They?”
Oh, fuck me.
I went to answer, blushing and stuttering on my breath, before he raised a hand and cut me off. “I don’t wanna know. Just tell me this—are you being safe? And not just…ya know, health-class safe. Butactuallysafe?”
My mind raced like a hamster on a wheel.
The truthful answer was…no. I knew I wasn’t being safe.
But he didn’t need to know that.
