Page 13

THIRTEEN

ROSALIE

“ R osalie,” Dr. Blake acknowledged once I entered. “Sit.” He motioned to the seat in front of him, which I hesitantly took.

I hadn’t gotten much sleep since the last time we’d spoken—when he told me I’d been the one to kill Daisy. I’d been waiting for the chance to speak with him again, hoping he’d be more inclined to release me, sooner rather than later.

“How has the adjustment been?” he asked, raising his gaze to meet mine.

I shifted uncomfortably, my mind flashing to Archer, Jordan, and Seven, but mostly Archer. Our encounter in the bathroom yesterday made me uncomfortable, but it also made me want more. I couldn’t even begin to sort through these feelings even if I tried. He made me question everything and had seemed so sure in what he’d said. Sex is part of a relationship. It strengthens it. Without it, you’re missing out on a huge portion of what makes a relationship thrive. At first, I thought he was just talking out his ass, saying anything to get me to cave. That’s what lesser men did when they wanted a girl’s body. But his words resonated deep within me, and I realized…he was right.

Every time I tried to get Alex to do anything sexual, even to just touch me, he wouldn’t. The rejection stung, but I also understood at the time. We’d agreed to be celibate together, thinking it would strengthen our emotional connection. But sex did that too—from what I understood of it. Why couldn’t we have had all of it?

Sighing, I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind and focused on Dr. Blake instead. “Difficult,” I admitted. “But I’m managing.”

He smiled in understanding, his hands resting on a familiar folder, the one I recognized as mine from the last time he’d had it on his desk. “That’s normal. It’s definitely a transition, but I’m pleased to hear that you’re doing well.” His eyes crinkled at the corners from years of hard work and dedication. He was young, but his eyes told another story. Mentally, he was older beyond his years.

I nodded, worrying my lower lip between my teeth. “I had a dream the night we spoke—well, it was more of a nightmare.”

He straightened in his seat, pleased that I was being so open with him. “What happened in this nightmare?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

“What really happened the night my sister and Gentry died. I killed her, but it was an accident.” I dropped my gaze to my hands where they rested on my lap. “It had been me swinging the knife, and she got too close. When I realized what I’d done, I turned the knife on myself out of guilt.” That last part didn’t happen in that nightmare, but it was what my mom had told me.

“Has anything else happened since then?”

I couldn’t tell him that I’d been hearing things or seeing things that weren’t there. That would do nothing but ensure my place here. So instead, I shook my head.

“Do I need to be medicated? For dissociative disorder?” I pressed. I was willing to do whatever I had to in order to cooperate. Anything to get me out of here faster.

His features softened. “That’s not necessary. There is no medication designed for dissociative disorder, not for the kind you have. Yours was brought on by trauma—a way for your subconscious to protect you from the pain of that night.” His smile widened, turning into a more genuine one. “I’m pleased to see that you’ve already made progress. After some more trauma therapy, you’ll be free to return home. We’re mostly worried about how you choose to cope now, especially after attempting suicide and hurting your sister, which I know wasn’t your intention. Don’t blame yourself, Rosalie. You were fighting for your life, for her life as well. It could have happened to anyone.”

Hope swelled within me, and I couldn’t help but return his smile. He said exactly what I’d been hoping for. I’d be free to go home, soon. Not jail, not prison, not here. I’d be able to leave and go back to college.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Of course.” He tipped his chin. “It’s almost time for group therapy. I’ll go ahead and let you go. Thank you for being open with me.”

I nodded and stood, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. I’d still always feel the loss of my sister, maybe I was holding on to Alex so tightly because I saw her in him as well. From all the fun times we’d had together. Daisy climbing on his back, him tickling her, helping me pick out gifts for her birthdays and Christmas. How open he was to the idea of her living with us once we graduated college. He loved her as much as I did. The thought of losing him felt like I’d be losing another piece of her memory. I did care about him, just like I always had. But he was also a huge part of my sister, and that made my bond with him stronger.

When I got to group therapy, I slipped into the seat between Cheyanne and Ryder. They seemed to be expecting me, leaving the chair open, which also made me happy.

Cheyanne smiled at me. “Hey,” she greeted. We didn’t speak a lot, just in therapy and at mealtimes. For some reason, I wanted to change that. She was a huge help, making this transition smoother for me, and I was open to a friendship with her. More than surface-level.

“Are you doing anything after this?” Ryder asked me before I had a chance to reply to Cheyanne.

I turned, glancing at him. “No, why?” My initial plan was to go back to my room and color or read, but that’s all I’d been doing since I got here, so I was more than open to alternatives.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go sign up for some classes today. I can take you.” He shrugged; a sheepish smile imprinted in his boyish features.

“Sure. Thanks.”

I turned back to the front of the room where Mrs. Octavia stood. She cleared her throat, trying to capture everyone’s attention, and taking a mental note of who was listening to her and who wasn’t.

“Today we will be doing a quiz over the movie we watched. I hope you were all paying attention,” she began, clutching a bunch of papers to her chest. Ms. Karla lurked in the far corner of her room, waiting to be summoned. Karla seemed to be closer to my mom’s age and had dark blonde hair pinned to the back of her head in a sleek style. Where my mom had weathered features, wrinkles, and stress lines, Karla’s skin was smooth and untouched. Mrs. Octavia motioned her over with a wave of her hand and once she’d moved to obey, the papers were thrusted toward her in an aggressive manner. My eyebrows dipped in confusion as I watched the exchange.

Tearing my gaze away, the magnetic pull I’d been feeling since I got here settled into my body. He was watching me. I could feel it, and it made my skin heat with unwanted acknowledgment. But it was the same pull I felt when Seven stared, too, or when Jordan spoke to me. So, it could be any one of them.

I shouldn’t care, but it was starting to become blatantly obvious that I did. Chancing a look in the direction I knew he was sitting, my breath caught in my throat as our eyes clashed. Suddenly, I was transported back in that bathroom with his hands on me, his lips against mine. The ecstatic current of electricity that had trickled through my body when his finger grazed my nipple—when he switched to his mouth moments later. My thighs clenched with the reminder, my breath shallowing. As much as I tried to school my features, it was pointless. The curl of his lips told me he knew exactly what was on my mind.

I wanted to feel that way again, but it couldn’t happen. I’d just have to live with the brief sample he’d given me and move on, hoping that one day, Alex would fulfill my sexual desires—my needs. I already knew that when and if Alex did touch me, it would never amount to the way Archer did. I wouldn’t feel the same magnetic pull or the electricity. That thought had my chest tightening as a painful reminder invaded my head space.

It was Valentine’s Day, and I wanted to surprise Alex. I’d just gotten done making heart-shaped sugar cookies with pink and red frosting painted over them. I also made chocolate covered strawberries. He was a sucker for sweets, but tried limiting himself the best he could, believing that too much indulgence was bad for our health. He believed that with everything, it seemed.

I’d gone to the store the night before and bought some lingerie, hoping it would spur him on to wanting me the way I wanted him. A silk pink robe was wrapped around my body, and I’d spent extra time in the bath shaving, soaking, and washing. I’d even put on the lotion and perfume he always liked. Beneath my robe was a see-through bra with hearts on it and a matching thong. It was my first time wearing a thong, and I kind of liked the freedom of it. The last time I’d attempted anything sexually with him, it didn’t go well, but that was nearly a year ago now.

I placed the cookies on a plate and the strawberries on another, taking them over to the small couch within my dorm room and put them on the small circular table before it. Since there wasn’t an actual oven in here, I had to buy one of those smaller ones, so it took much longer to make these and by the time I was done, I was sweaty. Luckily, I saved the bath for after. I’d even purchased condoms just in case, not wanting to be unprepared if he decided he finally wanted to have sex.

Three small candles were set along the edges of the table, the rose scent drifting through the air. Making my way back to the kitchen, I retrieved two glasses of apple cider, knowing he wouldn’t want to drink alcohol for obvious reasons. He was more religious than I was.

Once finished, I sat on the couch just in time for the doorknob to turn. He stepped in with a gift bag hanging from his fingers, his eyes taking in the room before settling on me.

He didn’t seem put off by my choice of clothing, not that he could see what was on underneath. He closed the door behind him and joined me on the sofa, his gaze raking over the goodies I’d made.

“This looks amazing, baby.” He smiled, moving his eyes back to me. “I got you something.” He handed me the gift bag which I readily took.

My heart pounded with nervousness, still hung up wondering if he’d reject me or not. The last time hurt, and I’d sworn to never attempt it again after that, but I really wanted him. My friends had all had sex and boasted about how great it was. I wanted to know what it felt like.

Reaching into the bag, my fingers grazed against a card, so I latched onto that first. Opening the pink envelope, I pulled the card from within it and read. It wasn’t personalized, just a cute poem that the creator printed on it. Putting the card off to the side, I reached into the bag again and grabbed a small velvet box. My heart thundered beneath my ribcage for various reasons. Lifting the lid, a sigh of defeat left me when I saw the small, heart-shaped earrings.

“They’re beautiful.” I forced a small smile.

“You don’t like them.” He sighed, running a hand over his face.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like them, I just thought that maybe…he was proposing. “It’s not that at all,” I assured him. “I promise.”

His shoulders relaxed with relief, and he nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head. “But I do want to do this.” I smirked, climbing onto his lap and winding my arms around his neck. I lowered my lips to his, which he returned eagerly. His kiss was much softer than mine, and even when I tried to heat it up more, he didn’t change his pace. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. Want and desire consumed me and the throb between my legs intensified.

Breaking away from the kiss, he glanced up at me with hooded eyes. Hope swelled within my chest, the want in his gaze prominent. If he refused me now, it would be humiliating. Swallowing my pride, I shifted, feeling the erection in his slacks against me. Sucking in a sharp breath, the material of my robe slipped down my shoulders, and I bared myself to him.

Alex moved his hands to grip my waist, conflict written into his features. His jaw tightened as his gaze traveled over my chest. “Shit, Rosalie.” He breathed. “You’re making this difficult.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” I whispered. “I want you, Alex. So much.” Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I ground myself against him, a gasp falling from my lips.

His head dropped back against the sofa, his breathing getting heavier by the second. A choked groan sounded from the depths of his throat as I moved my center against him. As if snapping out of his haze, his grip tightened around my waist in a painful hold, and he pushed me backward.

“I-I can’t.” He jumped from the couch once my feet were safely on the floor, his hands moving through his dark hair. “Why did you have to do this?” he snapped, turning on me.

“I just wanted you.”

He shook his head. “We’ve been over this. Time and time again. Can you really not respect that I want to wait until marriage?” he demanded.

My face heated with embarrassment, and I glanced away as the tears surfaced. Was it selfish to want my own boyfriend? I didn’t think it was, but he was looking at me like I was some kind of monster.

Sighing, he spoke out again, more softly this time. “I’m going for a drive. Don’t wait up.” And with that, he slipped out of my dorm room, leaving me to my thoughts and tears.

That was the last time I attempted anything sexual with him. Granted, it had only been a handful of months since that happened now, but the pain of his rejection still punctured my heart deeply and I felt it to this day. Archer was right. I wanted to feel wanted and desired. My relationship with Alex was safe, but he didn’t give me what I craved. However, I wasn’t going to toss my entire relationship out over it, either. It didn’t feel right after being with him for so long. We had plans, a future, and lust wasn’t going to get in the way of that.

Ryder walked by my side, motioning to a door every now and then to tell me which classes they were. None of them had appealed to me so far. Surprisingly, I found that I enjoyed his company. He was easygoing, didn’t flirt with me, or threaten me. He was safe, for now. I wasn’t sure what his diagnostics were, but for once, I didn’t want to know.

We stopped outside of another door, and he gestured toward it. “This is the art room,” he explained.

Intrigued, my gaze drifted up and down the door with interest. “Really? When are the classes?”

He glanced over at me. “Wednesdays and Fridays, but you don’t have to attend both every week. Just one at least. You interested in art?”

I’d never given it much thought, but I did enjoy coloring and creating something that was beautiful to me. I wasn’t opposed to drawing or learning how to draw. Hesitantly, I nodded.

A smile graced his lips, and he turned to the clipboard resting against the wall near the door. “Both days?” he asked.

“Just Fridays.” I had church on Wednesdays and didn’t want to risk missing it. Not when Valentine had promoted me to assistant. I was excited to get more involved. So far, I’d only managed to hang up the brochures he’d given me.

He silently wrote my name in before turning to face me again. “Anything else you want to fit into your schedule?”

“Maybe eventually, but this will do for now. Thank you, Ryder.” His gaze darted to my lips before he met my eye again, a genuine smile twisting the corners of his mouth.

“Anytime, Rosalie. I’ll see you at the party tomorrow.” He turned and walked away before I could say anything else, but maybe he figured that’s what I wanted.

I turned to walk away, but smacked right into a wall, forcing me to stumble backwards. Jordan caught my arm to help steady me, accusation written into his features.

My heart was hammering against my ribcage. “What the hell are you doing?” I snapped, moving my hand over my rapidly beating chest.

“Protecting you,” he replied dryly.

“So, what? You’re following me now?”

He rolled his eyes as if this entire conversation was beneath him. I hated how he acted like he was above everyone else all the time. He was the crazy one. “Don’t flatter yourself. I saw you walk out of group therapy with him.”

Annoyance bubbled up inside of me. When I accepted his deal, I didn’t expect him to follow me around like a second shadow. “So?” I pressed, narrowing my eyes at him.

“So…Ryder is dangerous,” he bit out, his jaw feathering as he clenched it.

I snorted in response. “So are you.”

“Are you trying to make this more difficult for me, or are you simply just that na?ve?”

I folded my arms across my chest and glared up at him. He was such an asshole. Maybe I was being unreasonable, though. He was just doing what we agreed upon. It didn’t irritate me any less, regardless of that fact. I just wanted space from all of them. From Archer, Jordan, and especially Seven. My hands tightened into fists as my mind drifted back to the incident in the cafeteria yesterday. He poured chocolate milk all over me, ruining my white shirt in the process.

Pushing those thoughts away, I jutted out a hip, putting all my weight on that leg in annoyance. His gaze raked down my body shamelessly and slowly, as if he were memorizing every part of me. Not that he needed to, I was stuck here for the time being. “Well, now that you’ve played white knight, you can go.” I waved a dismissive hand in his direction, but he didn’t miss a beat. His features hardened and he snatched my wrist mid-air. I winced with the pressure he inflicted, but had no time to focus on it, because he was pulling me toward him.

“What did I say about watching that tone?” he growled, his warm breath fanning against my lips.

Nervous energy prickled along my skin, and I was suddenly acutely aware of how close we were, and of the danger he exuded. Swallowing thickly, I averted my gaze. “Are you done?” I breathed, trying my best to hide the shakiness from my voice. I was absolutely terrified of him, and he knew it. He was feeding off it.

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest, but it held no amusement. It promised darkness, pain, and malice. With his free hand, he gripped my jaw between his fingers and jerked my face so that I was forced to look at him again. His eyes were darker than usual, and it had warning bells resounding within my skull.

“Leave before I hurt you,” he ground out.

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I jerked out of his hold and took off in a run, not bothering to slow until I was nearing my room. I slipped through the door and leaned against it, my heart pounding furiously.

My encounter with him weighed heavily on me. It was surprising that he’d shown any restraint and released me before doing something awful. It was the last thing I expected from him. He was quick to anger, that much was obvious. He was dark, dangerous, a murderer even. So why did getting under his skin exhilarate me? It left me disoriented, but it also felt like some kind of twisted craving—a high, if you will. If I wasn’t careful, he’d probably end up killing me.

Why did that knowledge not terrify me as it had before we’d ever spoken?