Page 26 of Chasing My Bliss (Behind The Lens #6)

Felicity

“ A re you ready for this?”

“Yes. No. Terrified.” I'm a mixture of all of them, but I know I'm ready to find out where we stand. “I need to shower and change real quick, then I'm heading over. Somehow, I don't think showing up to his house reeking of pussy will be the best thing to do.”

“Meh, maybe, maybe not, but it sure would be hilarious.” I can hear the smugness dripping off her lips with each word.

“Roxy!”

“What?” she gasps, hand going to her heart as she flutters her dark eyes at me. “Maybe it’ll light a fire under his ass and burn some common sense into him. I have half a mind to talk to him myself.”

I let out a huff, knowing her trying to speak with him in any regard would only make this situation worse.

“No. I’m going to talk to him today. Tell him how I feel about him.” She goes to open her mouth and I reach out, placing the palm of my hand over it. “And you.” She pushes her tongue out of her mouth and licks my flesh and I yank it away, wiping it on my pants.

“Good. I’m not giving you up. Not after finally getting you.

” She leans in, kissing me on the cheek.

“I’m going to head out. I need to run a few errands and if I stay here, then I’m not going to want to let you go.

Just message me when you’re on the way home.

” She pauses, biting her lips, something akin to uncertainty in her eyes. “You are coming home tonight, right?”

“Yes. Even if we work through our issues, it’s still a little too soon to stay the night. Besides, if he accepts me and you, then we’re all three going to need to sit down together and figure out how this is all going to work.”

“Okay. I’m going to miss you.” She kisses me again, then raises her hand, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

My skin prickles under her touch and I wish I had time to show her how much she means to me.

Not like we did during my streaming, but slow, passionate, each of us taking the time to enjoy every caress and kiss.

“Message me.” She looks me firmly in the eyes before backing away, turning and leaving the kitchen. A couple minutes later, I hear the front door open and shut.

Sighing heavily, I turn back to the counter, picking up my water bottle, twisting the top and taking a swallow. My heart’s racing and it’s the only thing I know to calm it.

“Okay, Felicity. Time to get this over with.” With that, I head to the bathroom and shower. It’s quick, but that’s okay. I just want to wash Roxy’s scent off. Even if I hate doing it. But I need a clear head when I talk to Ezra.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling on a pair of leggings, then sit down on the edge of my bed and put on my shoes.

Tonight, come hell or high water, I’m going to have an answer. Either Ezra and I are still a couple and he can accept that I’m also with Roxy, or we’re done forever. He’ll be a thing of my past. A great love that just wasn’t meant to be. One that wasn’t able to overcome the obstacles in its path.

I pick up my phone from my nightstand, taking a second to unplug it from the charger.

Me: I’m on the way.

Ezra’s reply is immediate. Almost as if he was waiting for my message.

Ezra: I’ll be waiting.

Standing, I head out of my room, flipping off the light as I go.

I move through the hallway, the unease I’m feeling growing with every passing second. It’s nerves. Fear of what’s about to happen. The complete unknown of the situation.

One by one, I turn the lights off until the only one remaining on is the lamp by the front door. That one stays on. I want to make sure that Roxy isn’t coming home and walking into darkness. Slipping on my jacket, I pick up my purse and keys and step out the front door, locking it behind me.

I go to turn and at the same time a hand slips around my waist, gripping me tightly and another hand with a rag covers my mouth and nose.

Panic courses through me as a sweet smell that reminds me of a mixture of a candy shop and a medicine cabinet invades me.

I struggle against the unknown person, clawing at their arms as I fight against them.

My keys, purse and phone all fall, clattering against the stone porch.

Fight. It’s the only thing I know I need to do at the moment. There’s no way I’m letting some fucking asshole take me, rape me, kill me, or whatever it is they have planned for me.

I thrash against my captor, my instincts flaring to fight harder, but already I can feel the strength draining from me, from my limbs.

My vision wavers at the edges, the world narrowing into a tunnel of swaying shadows and ringing silence.

My muscles go slack. Darkness creeping in like a tide, slow and inescapable.

The rag presses harder against my skin and I feel as if I’m suffocating. Breathing becomes harder with each movement I make. Reality floods through as my body begins to fail me, and I know.

I’m not going to make it.

My body goes limp. I have no more control. I try to scream, but nothing comes out.

Then everything goes black.

There's nothing.

Time loses all meaning in the void.

My eyes feel heavy. I try to lift my arms but they feel like lead. My mouth is dry and I try to swallow, do anything to wet my throat, but I can’t.

It feels like I’m trying to rise from beneath sludgy black tar.

My eyes flutter open, unfocused, the ceiling above me swimming in and out of clarity. My vision blurs as I fail at focusing on anything. A ringing pierces my ears. I try to scream, but there’s nothing. Almost like my voice is being stifled by the fear clutching my chest.

Every breath feels thick. Thoughts come rushing back, sluggish, disjointed, as if my mind has been wrapped securely in bubble wrap. There’s an intense pulsing sensation in my skull, a heavy ache behind my eyes. Sounds swarm around me, muffled, distorted—like listening through a wall.

I try to move, but my body barely obeys. My limbs feel like lead. Unresponsive to my desperate desires to escape from whatever monster that’s taken me.

A shadowy figure moves at the edge of my vision—an arm. Tattoos. Lines and shapes that my foggy mind struggles to place, but fails to. It’s there. Just out of reach.

As hard as I try to fight this haze that has a hold on me, I lose the battle.

Darkness takes over, pulling me down into the depths of Hell.

Nothingness swallows me whole.

But it doesn’t last.

My body battles a cycle of fading in and out of consciousness, never fully waking or gaining the ability to take control of my limbs.

Flickers of awareness return in waves—brief, broken moments of half-waking. A distant creak of floorboards. A voice murmuring just out of reach, low and indistinct.

Slowly my eyelids flutter open and I strain my eyesight, trying to take in my surroundings, to figure out where I am. It’s familiar. But not. Shapes move slowly around me, just out of vision. Panic rises as my heart races.

I press my eyes together firmly, count to ten under my breath, then open them again. I try to force clarity into my vision so I can make out where I am. Who took me?

Then—hands appear. A figure leans over me, their face hidden from me by some type of mask. I tense, fingers twitching in protest, yet unable to do anything but lay limp.

A cloth hovers over my face.

“No… wait—” I mumble, but the words barely form before the rag returns, smothering me again. The same sweet scent. I fade into darkness again, faster this time.

Darkness.

A longer stretch, quieter.

Then—a faint pull upward. The world returns in fragments. Cold air on my skin. My temples are thudding. My breath is shallow, uneven.

I force my eyes open again, sluggish and heavy. A pale, dim light flickers above me, casting faint shadows on the walls around the room. I can barely move as my head falls to the side.

A figure sits nearby. I can’t make out the face. They’re shielded just inside the darkness of the room. But an arm is visible, stretched across a knee, fingers absently tapping against the denim fabric. The skin is inked—bold lines, faded edges, a pattern I know. One I’ve seen.

A tattoo.

I know that arm. That tattoo. That design.

My breath hitches.

Recognition cracks through my foggy brain like lightning.

I try to speak, but the words get caught somewhere between my mind and my lips.

I blink again, fighting the pull to sleep. Swallowing hard, I finally manage to get out one word.

“Why?”