Page 216 of Drown Like Heaven
There was a beat of silence where I just stared at him, but I didn’t respond, choosing to walk into the kitchen instead.
My pulse was swishing in my ears and my limbs felt strange, almost jittery but heavy at the same time, like there was something wrong with the way my blood was flowing. Micah’s footsteps sounded behind mine, muffled in my skull. He didn’t know how high the tide was, didn’t know how strongly it pulled me, didn’t know how close I was to being washed away entirely.
But I felt it with every sinking step. I felt that horrible gravity. The deadly undertow.
Grainy home videos playing on a loop in my brain.
“Dakota.”
I pivoted, walked out of the kitchen into the living room.
It was socleanin his house. Soexpensive.Tasteful.
“Hey.” He grabbed my wrist and turned me. I kept my eyes level with his chest, refusing to look up. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
Everything. Everything is always wrong.
That includes you.
I’d been so worried about Mason, I’d hardly seen Micah coming. As much as I’d tried to protect myself, my skin was soft.
And his teeth were so sharp.
What would Micah think if he knew Mason had fucked me with a gun to my head, making me believe he was going to kill me for real? That he’d held me underwater while I fought him? Would he understand all the ways I’d wanted those things? He knew how my brain was wired to an extent; he knew I liked the fear, the threat of my own death, but how deeply did he feel thathimself?
“Come here,” he instructed, towing me towards the couch while I dragged my feet, digging my heels into the rug. He sat on the leather couch cushion with me standing in front of him.
“Micah, stop it,” I said, turning away from him. “Stop.”
He looped his arms around my waist and pulled me onto his lap. “Tell me.”
“You’re insane,” I said through my teeth. My palm connected with his chest once, twice, hitting his solid muscles.
He grabbed my face, pulling me towards him, tipping our foreheads together. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, hating the tearsalwaysthreatening to spill down my face.All softness and no sense.The flash of a white tail disappearing into thedarkness. Prey.I’d tried to learn to protect myself, but I’d never truly be able to. I was too trusting. Too desperate.
Run, prey, run.
“Masters,” he whispered. “Don’t keep me out. Don’t make me watch you hurting from outside your little world. I’m right outside the door, alright? I’m not going anywhere. Let me in.”
“What if I don’t fucking want that? What if I don’t want you in my head?” I questioned, sounding frantic. The amount of trust required to be around someone capable of the things Micah was capable of was enormous. I was trusting him not to rewrite my own brain. “Are you even capable of keeping yourself out?”
“You’re allowed to let someone take care of you,” he said, disregarding my questions. “Do you know that?”
“Is that what this is? You taking care of me?”
“That isallI ever try to do, Dakota.”
His words added to the constant guilt hanging on me like a heavy blanket, soaked with cold water.I fuckinghatemyself.
I broke.
An exhausted sob burst out of me and I turned my head, laying my face in the crook of his neck while tears poured down my cheeks, shoulders shaking, lungs stuttering.
“You hate me,” I cried.
“I don’t hate you.”
But I felt like he was lying. Somehow, I knew he’d figured it all out. He probably knew all along, and I was just the fool, thinking I could hide anything from him. He’d been punishing me since the day Mason walked into his house.
