Page 22 of Watch Your Back (Devil’s Backbone #2)

I’ve been soaking up all the time Ashley will give me during the day, totally fucking up both our study schedules by luring her into my bed with almost obsessive appetite…

not that she’s been complaining. But nights are a different story.

I’m still too messed up from what happened last semester, and I don’t trust my sleeping self not to hurt her.

So I insist she sleep in her own dorm, knowing Royce will be there to keep her safe.

The nightmares are back, and I’m too scared to tell anyone.

The only saving grace is that my video feed proves I haven’t left my bed at night.

They’re just nightmares…for now. But they’re growing in intensity and it’s bleeding into my decision-making during waking hours.

My temper is so much shorter, and I’m quick to violence.

I don’t hate it, either. I finally feel… alive.

W hat the fuck just happened? Nate’s mom was a bitch for one thing, but that lined up with the professor who’d given me a lift back to campus while hypothermic and barefoot.

She’d suggested I visit the hospital, yes, but she hadn’t insisted on it or—to my knowledge—given my well-being a second thought after dropping me off. Surface-level humanity only.

A chill raced down my spine and a sour dread twisted my guts as I glanced around. Nate was some distance away, being patted on the back by a group of older men who reeked of wealth, but he caught my gaze with a frown set on his brow.

Whatever he was trying to say, whatever question his eyes were asking, I didn’t understand.

We were not on the same page, nor could I read him like I could Heath.

Or even Carter, for that matter. Nate was a fucking enigma and seemed to be working off a totally different narrative than the rest of us.

I glanced down at the duck I’d nearly choked on, sitting innocently in my palm now, then sighed and slipped it into my purse.

My eyes were stinging, which meant my makeup was probably running thanks to my near-death experience, so I abandoned my flute on a nearby table and glanced around for the restrooms.

“Ash, you good?” Carly called out as I passed by her and Edmund talking with an older woman who dripped jewels.

I gave her a quick nod and flashed what I hoped was a reassuring smile while gesturing to the exit I was heading for.

Hopefully it was clear I was just heading to the bathroom to freshen up and clear my head because I really badly just needed a minute alone.

Picking up the pace, I slipped out of the party and headed down the corridor, away from the elevators.

Farther along the hall, I spotted a sign for the restrooms. Then I recognized the two glittering-gowned women heading into the ladies’ room and froze in my tracks.

No freaking way was I getting stuck in a closed space with Paige and Jade after Nate told his mom we were practically engaged. Fuck that for a joke.

Instead, I bypassed the ladies’ room and headed for the disabled access bathroom instead.

“Spark!” Carter called out from the direction of the party, heading my way with a scowl set across his brow. My breath caught in my chest at the look on his face, and my pulse thundered so hard I was growing light-headed.

I needed a fucking minute to myself, so I waved back and ducked into the disabled restroom before he could catch up. Just a moment after I flicked the lock, he knocked on the door.

“Spark, are you okay? I just heard about your engagement to Nate. What the?—”

Oh no, word was spreading that fast? “I just need a minute, Carter,” I called back. “Too much champagne, you know? Also, for the record, Nate’s lost his fucking mind. Can you please ask what the hell he is doing?”

His chuckle soothed something inside me. “Noted. I’ll wait for you, though. Nate painted a hell of a target on your back just now, and Paige is lurking around somewhere.”

I groaned, leaning my hands on the vanity to stare at my reflection. I really needed to get Nate alone and ask him to his face what the fuck he was thinking. But right now he was being congratulated on a harmless lie that had somehow escalated at the speed of fucking light into a fake engagement.

No, not somehow. Nate’s mom was responsible for that shit, and she didn’t seem even slightly remorseful for it. No wonder Max had divorced her.

I ran the tap while I peed, knowing Carter was standing right outside the bathroom door and not wanting to imagine him listening. Right as I flushed, I heard him answer a phone call and sighed. I’d bet money Heath and Royce had heard the gossip by now and were trying to find us.

After washing my hands, I checked my own phone and noted the expected missed calls. And a text message from Nate.

Nathaniel Essex: Sorry. That got out of hand. I owe you one.

Rolling my eyes, I typed out a quick reply.

Ashley: One? You’re joking. You owe me about six million. What the fuck, Essex?!

His reply cleared up nothing.

Nathaniel Essex: Yeah, I know.

Frustrated, I tossed my phone back into my clutch and grabbed some toilet paper to fix the mascara smudges at the corners of my eyes. Then I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart before unlocking the door.

As anticipated, Carter was still waiting outside leaning against the wall opposite the restroom I was using. When I started to open the door, his head snapped up and the blank expression on his face made me freeze.

“Carter?” I squeaked just a split second before he rushed forward, slamming the door open fully and shoving me backward. I stumbled, shocked, and he kicked the door shut as he advanced, forcing me to back up.

Panic whipped through me faster than lightning, and I put my hands out to hold him at arm’s length.

Or tried to. “Carter, stop!” I gasped as he swatted my hands aside and grabbed me by the throat.

His eyes remained glassy and unfocused, his every muscle tense like his own body was fighting against his brain with every movement.

“Stop!” I pleaded, clawing at the hand around my throat.

It had no effect, as he shoved me against the bathroom wall beside the mirror and his fingers tightened around my throat. Holy fuck, was he going to kill me? This wasn’t him. This wasn’t Carter… Someone was pulling his strings. Someone wanted me dead, and Carter was nothing more than a weapon.

Tears streamed from my eyes, the running makeup stinging and making it hard to see, but there was no mistaking the nefarious intent when he started gathering up my full skirt with his free hand. He wasn’t going to kill me…not immediately, anyway.

“Carter,” I whimpered, clawing at his hand pinning my throat to the wall. “Please, Carter, don’t do this.” For a moment, through my tear-blurred eyes, I thought I saw a flicker of something pass across his blank expression. For just the briefest moment, I thought I’d gotten through to him.

Then his fingers found the satin of my panties and ripped them clean off my body with a stinging jerk.

I screamed then, fucking terrified of what was about to happen.

It was Carter, and fuck if I didn’t just about turn myself inside out with desire when we were together, but he wasn’t here with us right now.

This was someone else entirely and that thought twisted my stomach into agonizing knots.

Dark spots danced across my vision. I only had seconds to act before I passed out…

then I’d be totally at the mercy of whoever was controlling Carter, and god only knew if I’d wake up again.

So I lashed out, slapping him across the cheek as hard as humanly possible, letting my nails dig in and raking four red slashes in his gorgeous face.

“Carter!” I pleaded, sobbing. “Come back to me! Don’t do this! Carter, please, don’t hurt me!”

The dark spots got darker, and gut-wrenching resignation washed through me. I’d failed, and Carter would never fucking forgive himself when he eventually snapped out of it. If he ever did. Fuck, what if he was keyed to kill himself afterwards, just like…

Abruptly, he released me and I crumpled to the floor in a puddle of midnight-blue couture as Carter stumbled back a couple of steps.

“Spark?” he croaked, horror saturating that one word.

I lay there a moment, gasping for air and shaking so hard, I thought for a second I was having a seizure. But I only gave myself the briefest moment before blinking back the tears and holding out my hand to him.

“I’m okay,” I whispered, my own voice rough.

The sound of both our harsh, gasping breaths filled the room for a tense second, then Carter skidded to his knees in front of me, reaching out with trembling hands.

“Spark?” he moaned. “Did I…? Oh my god, no…” His hands dropped away before he could touch me, and he pushed away like he was scared to be so close to me.

“It’s okay,” I tried to reassure him, despite the way my heart galloped in my chest and my whole body pebbled with gooseflesh. “I’m okay. You stopped, Carter. You stopped. I’m okay.”

I was not okay. I’d thought I was going to die, or be raped, or both. And all at the hands of a man I lo—that I cared deeply for. Knowing it wasn’t him only made it marginally better.

Carter was deathly pale, his hands shaking as he fumbled for his phone, shaking his head over and over, like he wanted to somehow erase what had just happened out of his head. If he even remembered? Or maybe he’d just put two and two together once he snapped out of it.

“They’re coming,” he mumbled, seemingly unable to meet my eyes as guilt and disgust oozed from every pore. “They’ll know what to do.”

I didn’t need to ask who he meant, because the door burst open a second later to reveal a panic-stricken Heath. He took one look at me huddled in the corner before launching himself at Carter with murder written all over his features.

“Stop!” someone screamed, but it was as effective as holding up an umbrella against a tsunami.

Utterly useless.