Page 91 of The Maddest Obsession (Made 2)

I stood in front of the TV in an oversized t-shirt and lace boyshorts, with a cool rush of anxiety running through me. I wasn’t a fan of storms; they were unpredictable and destructive. They made me feel as small and weak as a little girl.

I hesitantly sat back down and picked up the dress I’d been hemming. Thunder rumbled across the sky, and I pricked my finger on my needle. With annoyance, I dropped my things. Took a deep breath.

It was just a little storm. No big deal.

My heart jumped at the crack of lightning right outside my window, and that was when the lights turned off. The lampposts on the street flickered and went dark.

No.

I squeezed my eyes closed, waiting for the generator to kick on. We had to have a backup generator, right? It was the twenty-first century, for goodness’ sake.

But the lights weren’t turning on.

And the dark was closing in.

In. Out.

In. Out.

The floorboards creaked behind me.

“I’m not going to hurt you, little girl.”

My lungs iced over.

There’s nobody there. There’s nobody there. There’s nobody there.

“I just want to play with you.”

Fear wrapped around my throat and cut off my breath. A tear escaped my closed eyes, running down my cheek.

“Sing me a song, bella.”

I couldn’t breathe.

Something touched me. Cold fingers running through my hair, the same way they had from ages eight to twelve.

Terror crawled up my spine.

I flew out my door and banged on the one right across from it. I didn’t want him to see me like this, but I also didn’t want to die. And I was sure I would if I had to be alone in this darkness any longer.

The door opened.

A candle glowed from somewhere inside, casting his form in shadow. His presence, however, was like a light in the dark.

“I’m going to die,” I choked out, not able to drag a deep enough breath into my lungs.

“Never, malyshka.” It was soft and vehement. “Come here.”

It wasn’t until I was pressed against his warm body that I realized how badly I was shaking. It was like grabbing onto a life raft before almost drowning in the sea. He made a rough noise and picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and rested my face against his neck, struggling for every breath.

“Slowly, Gianna.”

He ran a hand through my hair, down my back, and the simple act was so soothing, soon, I inhaled a steady breath. Relief hit me so strongly it brought on a wave of fresh tears. I didn’t know how long it took, but when my breathing evened out and my heart rate slowed, I was straddling Christian on his couch, my arms around his shoulders, my chest pressed to his. The panic attack had sucked the energy from me, left me feeling lethargic.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

A candle flickered on the coffee table.