by Elodie Colt
I didn’t know if I should be offended, but the way the words left his mouth indicated that they were meant in a flattering way, which sent my heart into overdrive. Dylan seemed to feel its frantic beating, his chest pressed tightly against mine, and a slight smile curled his lips.
A strange noise next to the bed startled me, and we both whipped our heads to the source. The lamp from the nightstand lay broken on the ground, and the mangled light bulb sizzled with electricity before giving out once and for all.
But the lamp was not the only thing that had suffered from gravity’s pull because it lay in a pile amongst other things, including Scott’s textbook for Physics, my wrist bandages, my jewelry box, mascara, and various text markers.
In my frenzied state, I hadn’t even noticed I’d turned my whole interior to ammunition shooting through the room like bullets. My eyes fell on the nightstand, but it was empty—everything had cluttered to the floor. Dylan must have followed my gaze and seemed to know what I was looking for.
He stretched out his arm, his pectoral muscles straining against my chest, and opened the drawer of my nightstand, pulling out my treasured hair clip. “I figured you wanted this to stay intact,” he said as he lifted it for me to see it was undamaged.
“Thank you,” I muttered, awed by his thoughtfulness.
Dylan peered at me for a second longer, spinning the clip in a three-sixty before making a fist around it, then putting it back into the drawer. It seemed he’d wanted to say something but decided against it. I didn’t push him.
“How long do I have left?” I asked hesitantly, feeling the next wave approaching.
“Uhm…” Dylan muttered, bewildered. “I don’t know, I forgot to keep track,” he confessed, and I couldn’t hold back a little smile. All the time he’d thrown frantic looks at his watch, but I’d clearly distracted him with my Revival. “But I guess it won’t be long until… it’s over,” Dylan added with a harrumph in between. I scrutinized him. The last part was not what he’d intended to say. I could easily guess how he’d wanted to finish the sentence.
Something wet stuck on Dylan’s shoulder blades where my hands now rested loosely, and I lifted them to see the cause. My fingertips were red with smears of blood.
“Jesus…”
Dylan was quickly on high alert at hearing me panicking. “What’s wrong?”
Trailing both hands over Dylan’s shoulder blades, I clearly felt four hollow cuts on either side. I peeked over Dylan’s massive frame to have a closer look and stared in horror.
“I scratched you,” I muttered. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know—”
“I didn’t even feel it,” Dylan interrupted me, stopping my hands from running over his back in a feeble attempt to help him somehow.
I gawked. I’d clawed at him hard enough to cut through the skin, leaving bloody scratches that more than likely seemed to have been caused by a wild animal, and he was brushing it off like it was nothing? Had he not felt it, or was he just downplaying in my favor? How far gone had I been?
“You know what they say about women, right?” Dylan broke through my thoughts with a mischievous smile forming. He waited to get my full attention, and I slowly shook my head, clueless about what Dylan wanted to tell me. “Women with style leave scratches, not love bites,” he enlightened me, no doubt to take my mind off things. It worked.
I let loose a pathetic whine, covering my face with my hands to hide my embarrassment. “This is awful.” Dylan laughed, and I felt it vibrate in my upper body while he gently peeled my hands away. “At least, let me tend to them when this is over.”
“Sure,” Dylan muttered with a wink that told me he’d just said it to end the discussion. Not that I would have the strength to continue arguing as the next wave of desire hit me with the force of a lightning bolt.
Before a sound escaped me, Dylan’s eyes flashed, and he stemmed my wrists onto the mattress, nailing them down. He must have seen something in my eyes telling him what was happening.
I growled through gritted teeth as the sensation grew in intensity. My stomach muscles cramped to the point my lungs constricted, and I fisted my hands to hold it together. Again, my mind clouded with the ecstasy surging through my most sensitive parts, and I lifted one leg to wrap it around Dylan’s thigh, anchoring him to me.
This time, the growl echoing through the space came from Dylan, a carnal sound that only added to my delirium. His grip on my wrists increased for a short moment until suddenly all the weight lifted from my body. Cool air hit my bare legs, and I nearly cried at the loss.
I couldn’t blame him for wanting to escape. I was clearly testing his boundaries.
But then, two hands made a vice around my ankles, yanking me swiftly down the mattress, my knees coming to a stop on either side of strong hips. I cried out, both from shock and lust. The motion slid my top up, leaving my stomach bare. The air brushed over my skin like a lover’s touch, making me squirm harder.
Firm hands grasped my naked waist, and my upper body was hoisted up until I was nestled in Dylan’s lap, my hair cascading forward. I was close to asking if he’d lost his mind, but instead, a chorus of lustful whimpers came out as my girly parts drenched with slick desire blocking out all coherent thoughts. Dylan wrapped my arms around his neck, apparently not caring in the slightest about risking more bloody scratches.
I could only stare at Dylan in bewilderment. He held my gaze, all the awkwardness from before gone and instead replaced by pure, hungry resolve. What was he up to? Did he want me to have sex with him? For God’s sake, if it weren’t for the danger I was putting him in, I wouldn’t hesitate for one more second, desperate to feel him inside me and release the building pressure.
But a small part of my brain which was miraculously still functioning held me back for fear of hurting him, so I did the only reasonable thing and pushed away in an attempt to gain distance.
Dylan must have known what I was up to and did something that stopped me fighting him—curling his fingers under my knees, he gave them a hard yank, so I ended up flattened against him straddling his hips and sitting directly on his crotch.
The feeling of his hard length stimulating my bundle of nerves was enough to forget everything about potential risks, my hands clawing at his shoulders, holding on for the ride of my life.
“That’s it, Haylie. Let it out,” Dylan whispered over my husky, little breaths, our noses almost touching. My answer was to rock forward, feeling his steel-hard length from top to bottom, and this time, we both let out a simultaneous moan.
I didn’t know if I was Dylan’s slave to do with as he pleased, or if it was the other way around, but either way, I prayed for it never to end.
Dylan’s hand shot out grabbing all my hair at once, twisting it around his fist and pulling until my head followed, exposing my bare neck. At some point, the strap of my top and bra glided down my shoulder, and Dylan’s lips were so close, I swear I felt them on my skin.
“Dylan,” I complained, desperate for his mouth on my body, but he wouldn’t grant me the wish, just continued teasing me while I enjoyed the ride, and hell, did it feel good.
“I’m here,” he whispered against my shoulder, and it sent a massive shiver straight down my spine.
This was it. This was the last wave of the Revival—the phase that would hopefully bring me the release I was chasing before the Awakening was over.
My hands raked up into Dylan’s hair, and I tilted my head to rest my cheek against his as I inhaled his wonderful, masculine scent that only added to my arousal. Dylan’s hands circled my back, one hand trailing down my spine while the other caressed my shoulder, my elbow, my hip, and going further still, trailing a path over my bare thighs until they rode back up to my behind. Once there, he kneaded my flesh, urging on my grinding hips and forcing me to whimper over and over.
My head whipped back as the sensations grew, blooming into something I knew would be nothing short of mind-blowing, something that would shatter me to
the point of breaking. I arched my back until Dylan’s hot breath wafted over my collarbone, his breathing as frantic as mine.
And then I felt it building up from deep within me as if something had jumped on the train that was my nerves to travel along an organic highway with impossible speed, and I ground faster against Dylan’s length. A deep, frustrated growl escaped him in between a curse I didn’t catch. His fingers dug into my hips, all of a sudden pushing me away.
“Dammit, Haylie, I can’t… I will…” he grunted through gritted teeth, showing me his tormented restraint, but I wouldn’t let go. Couldn’t. Not now.
“No,” I whimpered, clawing at his neck as if my last breath depended on it. I knew what he wanted to tell me—he couldn’t hold back any longer. “Let go with me,” I begged, leaning my forehead against his.
He’d done so much for me, not once leaving my side, supporting me with everything he had. I couldn’t give him anything in return but this.
Through the haze of lust, I managed to open my eyes, and for a second, his eyes raked over mine as if to make sure this was what I wanted. I could tell exactly when he made his decision as his jaw clenched, and his hands tightened again.
I bit my lip as every part of my body started to tremble, my muscles contracting from the upcoming invasion. Dylan moved one hand to my throat using a little pressure to bend me backward while continuing with grinding his hips against me, increasing in ferocity.
His name left my lips one last time before I exploded.
The sensation was so intense, there was no air available for screaming, so my mouth dropped open in a silent cry as searing hot desire ignited my veins. It felt as if someone had injected me with a mixture of morphine, adrenaline, and aphrodisiac.
The only thing I saw besides the reddish haze of lust was a crack zig-zagging through the ceiling as Dylan bent me lower still, arching me back until my head touched the mattress. He pumped one last time against me, a carnal sound rumbling through his chest as his release overcame him. The rumbling increased, only it came from another source, I realized.
The ceiling was going to collapse.
Bits of concrete started to rain down, and Dylan seemed to sense what was happening.
Just as I rode the last wave of maddening pleasure, he rolled us to the side until we were tumbling to the floor, chunks of concrete falling onto the mattress we’d occupied only seconds before.
My brain still tried to catch up with what was happening, my mind overloaded with a hundred emotions, and the only thing that registered before I blacked out was Dylan’s protective frame around me.
I clung to the beautiful fantasy as long as possible, but I already felt it slipping away, dragging me back to reality and away from one of the most vivid dreams I’d ever experienced. I knew keeping my eyes closed wouldn’t take me back to Wonderland, but it was too hard to let go. Longing filled me thinking back to what I’d shared with Dylan in my dream, and I swear I could smell his alluring scent as if being embraced in his strong arms had actually happened.
Growling sleepily, I rolled over, covering my face with my blanket, but just as I made it fully to the other side, pain shot up my elbow accompanied by a dull thump.
What the hell?
Opening my eyes, I realized a barrier had appeared out of nowhere—a blank white wall directly in front of my face. I blinked, disoriented, until it dawned on me that I might not be in my room, which quickly led to the question where the fuck I’d landed the night before.
I slowly turned around, careful not to rustle too much with the sheets in case I was kidnapped and should avoid drawing attention. Roaming my eyes over the room, I realized with relief that I was still in the compound. Every room looked the same, although some of them were furnished mirror-inverted, which was the case with this room and which also explained why I’d bumped into a wall that shouldn’t have been there in the first place.
On closer observation, the room seemed familiar with its simple black and white interior, and it took me only a second to comprehend where I was.
In Dylan’s room.
The realization shot my brain into overdrive, desperate to remember what had happened the night before. Seemed as if I hadn’t imagined Dylan’s scent on me after all.
Oh my God, had I slept with Dylan?
My hands quickly patted down my body. I still wore my top and underwear. No, I sure as hell would remember sex with him unless I’d gotten off-the-charts drunk. Come to think of it, it certainly felt that way, if the dull throbbing in my head and the fact that my vision didn’t work like it should were anything to go by.
Blinking, I tried to focus on the only picture decorating the room, but strange patterns started to appear in front of my eyes. I quickly pressed them shut again.
No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. If I did have sex with Dylan, then please not like this. He wouldn’t have taken advantage of me, would he? Not with—
“… sleep that long,” a low voice reached my ears. Chris?
“It took her twice the time than the average. She needs to make up for it.” Definitely Dylan. It sounded as if they were talking next to the door, but I couldn’t see around the corner.
A long pause. “Where will she stay for now?”
A deep sigh. “She’ll probably want to stay with Lauren.”
Were they talking about me? Why would I want to stay with Lauren? What the fuck had happened and why—
The dream! It hadn’t been a dream at all.
Everything came flashing back at once. The horrible pain, the unbearable coldness, Dylan, the intensive desire. Dylan had stayed with me. The entire time. Even when—
My vision changed abruptly, my stomach making an awful drop. The closet next to me started to grow a white halo around its contours—brighter in the middle and dulled on the bottom and on top.
What the heck was going on?
I grabbed the bed frame for support as a straight dotted line appeared. It started in the center of the closet, crossing the room until connecting with the bed I occupied.
As weird as it was, the strange pattern seemed familiar. Where had I seen it before?
I let my gaze drift to the other objects in the room. Each one I focused on grew the same lines, only in different angles as if someone was drawing touchable, geometric lines in a three-dimensional way. Tentatively lifting my hand, I patted my face in case someone had put some high-tech, military 3D-glasses on my head. Nope, there was nothing there.
I was so absorbed in my thoughts, I didn’t even hear the door closing and Dylan approaching me. He said something to me, but my attention was elsewhere, fascinated by what my eyes were seeing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was on a weird drug trip causing the strangest hallucinations.
Sadly, I knew what my mind was showing me. I’d seen the same things years ago when I conquered the fence to get to Shawna before she was killed. It had felt as if my brain had turned into a complex calculator coming to my aid.
“Hey!” Dylan yelled, grabbing my arm and clicking his fingers in front of my vision.
I startled, looking at him. He crouched low in front of me with a worried expression on his face. His presence would have calmed me if it weren’t for the lines surrounding him just the same.
“Stay with me, Haylie. I know it’s a lot to take in, but just close your eyes for a second and breathe for me, okay?”
I frowned. Did I look like I was going to pass out? I wouldn’t be surprised.
“Haylie, come on, baby,” Dylan pleaded, putting both hands on my cheeks. “Close your eyes and relax.” I did as Dylan said and breathed slowly, although I didn’t know what it should accomplish. “Good girl,” Dylan soothed. “I don’t know what you just saw or felt, but you’ll get used to it after a few minutes. Just let it come slowly.”
“What’s happening?” I asked, surprised at how raspy my voice was, but then I remembered the pain and the screams.
“The Awakening is over, which means you have a diffe
rent access to your ability now. I don’t know how it comes through for you, but considering your power and the fact that you’re white as a sheet at the moment, I assume it’s rather overwhelming.”
He could say that.
“Feeling better?” Dylan asked in a quiet voice a minute later, trailing a thumb over my cheekbone.
I nodded slightly, although I wasn’t sure how I felt considering my mind tended to slip away to those few hours I’d shared with Dylan.
I dared to open my eyes, and Dylan’s stormy, appion ones were the first thing I focused on. His body was still surrounded by white halos of lines and angles, only there were less straight and simple lines, the patterns far more complex. I knew why. The other objects in the room had geometric designs, most of them rectangular—his body was not.
“What do you see?” Dylan wanted to know, tilting his head after noticing me observing him from all angles like a tourist taking great interest in an antique statue. I didn’t answer right away, overwhelmed by what unraveled in my mind’s eye. Depending on the angle I looked at him, the lines kept changing along with Dylan’s movements.
It was funny—I could read the lines. I knew what they meant as if I’d studied trigonometry my entire life.
“Haylie?” Dylan reminded me that I still owed him an answer.
“Everything,” I uttered. “I see… everything.”
My eyes drifted away from Dylan’s penetrating gaze to rest on a bottle of water on the nightstand. The object was simple, so the lines were, too, showing me the exact point of its center of gravity if the bright halo contouring it was anything to go by. As soon as I focused on this part, in particular, the now familiar dizzying sensation grew in my stomach, and the line growing from its center to the table’s surface—a tangent showing me where the bottle would hit—flickered up. A second later, the bottle fell over, tumbling over the edge and falling to the ground.
I startled, and Dylan also seemed surprised.
“Did you just do this?”
I nodded. “I can see the angles and the centers of gravity of every object, even of you. It tells me in what position everything stands with gravity. I… I just don’t know how to switch it off.” I hoped my magical vision wasn’t something permanent.
