The Danger You Know

by Lily White

  It only angers me because I realize Grant is the sole reason I’m stuck in this position, which means we’re back to the butter knife idea. Maybe a potato peeler.

  Stopping in front of the window, I stare out at a city that is alive with worry for a woman who’s being cared for better than her husband ever did. Who’s being coddled. Who’s being allowed to remain the fucking victim she’s become over the past year, and I hate myself for continuing to allow it.

  Something has to give.

  She has to be taught to fight again.

  She has to be reminded of who she is.

  I turn at that thought, my gaze tracing over the truth of the past seven years. A timeline that shows who Adeline has always been.

  The day passes without incident, and after the sun sets, the night dragging on in an endless repetition, Adeline begins her usual fight.

  I hear her screaming from the other room. It’s always like she’s talking to someone. That damn shadow maybe. Or me.

  Pulling on a black t-shirt over the loose pants I’m wearing, I let myself into her room to witness her struggle against nothing, against the dark, against herself.

  After a week, the withdrawal from the drugs should be complete, so I know this isn’t simply her body’s reaction.

  This is her.

  The problems she has.

  The abnormality of a mind that gets lost between sleep and being awake. That sees dreams and nightmares while conscious of what they’re doing to her.

  I take my usual spot against the wall across the room from her, my arms crossed, my shoulders tense. Her torture is mine. Her pain. Her loss.

  And while I’ve researched her condition, I still find it hard to believe there’s nothing that can be done to cure it.

  Every night drives me a little closer to insanity’s edge.

  Every tear she sheds.

  Every noise that crawls up her throat, giving me no choice but to listen.

  Adeline sits up with eyes open that see nothing but what her mind conjures. Not the room. Not me.

  It’s fucking weird. I won’t lie about that. But it’s her. The little monster.

  When she slowly turns, I know she’s about to climb out of bed again.

  Stepping forward, I move to guide her back. She stops as soon as I’m in front of her. So close, but not touching, just like the first time we found ourselves here separated by nothing but glass.

  She inches closer while I stand still, her face to my chest, her eyes unblinking.

  But then she breathes me in, her body sways, and my hands move to her shoulders to steady her as she reaches up to fist her fingers in my shirt.

  “Ari...”

  My hands release her shoulders but don’t move away. Just hover there on the sides as I tip my head down to look at her face.

  Adeline is still sleeping as she presses against me, her fingers bunching my shirt more, her body heat combining with mine in a way I haven’t let happen in so damn long.

  I know I can’t trust myself near her. Not like this. Not when the fight for self-control would be a losing one. Not when she’s wearing nothing but a thin t-shirt that falls to mid-thigh.

  My hands lock over her shoulders again as I lead her to bed, lay her down, then attempt to stand up when her mouth opens with a sound of complaint and her hand fists in my shirt more.

  Leaning over her, I plant my palms on the mattress on either side of her, let her pull my body down until our mouths are hovering a teasing inch apart.

  She’s asleep.

  She doesn’t know I’m here.

  When her lips part on a whispered please, I forget the world has rules.

  I may have a conscience when it comes to Adeline, but my sense of morality has always been skewed.

  When she touches me like this, so innocent and ignorant of the shadow that looms over her, I don’t see what’s wrong in taking what I want.

  Judge me.

  Hate me.

  I said you would.

  But sometimes even the ugliest of stories can be beautiful, and ours has been fucked from the beginning.

  My hands have already ruined Adeline’s pristine canvas.

  There’s no point worrying about the dirty smudges now.

  I brush her lips with mine, grin when her hand fists tighter, her other reaching blindly until locking on my shoulder to tug me to her.

  Another soft kiss. Another. Her eyes close, but she’s still seeking something she can’t realize is above her.

  I kiss her harder, my tongue sweeping out, dancing against hers as I lower myself down, giving her what she wants. My body. My weight. My heat.

  Catching her tongue with my teeth, I trap and punish the muscle, small mewls vibrating in her throat as her hips buck against me.

  Adeline’s legs fall apart so fucking far that she’s just begging to be touched, her back arching as her tits press up, her hips rolling, looking for anything to ease that need.

  She’s desperate. Wanton. Wild.

  There’s not one ounce of shyness in the way she moves, no inhibition, no self-conscious bullshit, just a drive for everything primal, everything filthy, everything raw.

  She’s as open as I knew she would be. Unashamed. So fucking hot and bothered that I’m helpless but to take advantage.

  I’m a bastard for it, too, but you already knew that.

  I cup a possessive hand over her tit and she moans, the sound a siren’s call as it rolls from deep inside her to crawl up her throat.

  It’s a damn good thing I’m already going to Hell because this night will certainly pack me on the first train out.

  Making a mental note to add thief to my resume of crimes for stealing this moment, I bunch the hem of her shirt in my hand, ripping it up to her shoulders so I can watch her body writhe.

  Fuck, she’s beautiful, her hips still rolling in search for a hand or cock or tongue, her back arching as her arms extend above her head now that my heat is against her.

  And she’s not crying.

  Not fighting.

  Not screaming.

  She’s not still. I like that the most.

  Here, in this moment, she’s sixteen year old Adeline again. Unburdened by the consequences of her poor choices. No longer tamed by a husband that didn’t love her the way I always have.

  She’s expanding. Unrestricted. Once again too large for her skin, her spirit spreading out like the wildfire I remember from a time when the weight of the world wasn’t balanced on her shoulders.

  I want all of it. My greed for this woman so intense that I take every advantage I can, just like in the car on the night of her eighteenth birthday, just like when she was too drunk and stupid to know who I am.

  Crawling down her body, I grip her hips in my hands, lowering my head until my nose is pressed up against the cotton of her panties, my chest expanding as I breathe her in. My jaw locks at the scent of her hot, wet cunt, seducing me into losing my mind.

  Her hips buck at that tiny sensation, little tormented sounds falling from her lips. You’d think she’d combust if not filled soon, her body shaking with need.

  I lift my head to stare up her body, her plump tits tight and round, the nipples hard peaks that are begging for touch, for pain, for pleasure, for any sensation that will get her off.

  And I snap.

  That last tiny thread of self-restraint is gone.

  My fingers curl on her hips to pull a wet scrap of fabric down her legs and off her ankles as I stare up at a woman who has no idea what she’s done.

  Reaching back, I tug my shirt off because I need to feel her skin against mine.

  And then I launch forward, my shoulders catching the backs of her thighs, lifting her hips off the bed as my hands cup her ass and my mouth locks over her cunt, my tongue spearing inside her to a chorus of moans that roll off her pretty lips.

  Fingers squeezing her ass, I lift her hips higher, her pussy a feast that I lick and explore, my tongue greedy for the taste, my lungs filled with her scent.


  Her hips roll in my grip, dirty and desperate for more, bucking against my mouth as I drag my tongue to circle her clit, sucking in the swollen flesh so hard that she cries out with a shudder tearing over her entire body, her hands clenching the pillows above her head.

  Watching her is, on its own, hypnotic.

  I blow air over her wet skin and her back arches up, tits full and taut, her inner muscles gripping my fingers when I slowly slip them inside her.

  For a moment, I consider waking her up, only because I want to taunt and tease, stretch this moment out until she’s crying and begging and threatening to slice my fucking throat if I don’t give her what she wants.

  She comes apart, a burst of flavor on my tongue, my fingers so slick as I keep pumping my hand that the room is filled with a chorus of wet, sloppy sounds against a grunt as her body stiffens, her legs slapping together against my head as if that will stop me from pushing her further.

  Fuck, she’s tight, so deliciously hot that I lap at her throbbing, swollen clit with a wicked tongue, my fingers curling inside her body to tease the sensitive flesh, and she falls apart right there in front of me, her body shaking so hard that the mattress bounces beneath us, her knees locking the sides of my head into a vice.

  My cock is painfully hard, the head so full that just brushing against my pants causes my body to spasm, to clench.

  Teeth grinding until pain shoots down my jaw, I dislodge my shoulders from beneath her legs, climb up her body with no concern for what I’m doing, shove my pants down my legs and thrust inside her balls deep, my mouth closing over a tight nipple, my hands slipping beneath her to wrap over her shoulders and tug her down so I can drive inside her deeper.

  She gives it all to me, her legs wide open, her pussy gripping me, the muscles rippling over my cock as her tits press up, back arching, her head rolling over the pillow while her body seeks more.

  And I realize that’s what this is. Her body. Not her mind. Her biology taking over so that she will give it all without thought, or care, or concern for the person taking it from her.

  This is what her sleep does to her, and I swear she will never sleep next to anybody but me again.

  Never.

  And I’m not letting her go.

  Ever.

  This is mine.

  She is mine.

  I’ve worked my fucking ass off to possess her.

  So, I take what’s mine...hard. Without apology, my hips slamming between her legs, my cock driving deep inside that tight, wet, greedy little cunt until her hips lift with each thrust, her body arching from the mattress, and her eyes opening to stare at nothing because she’s still asleep.

  Ignorant.

  Innocent.

  It’s so fucking creepy to see that she’s not here, but it’s us. It’s always been us. The little monster and the shadow that watches her. The man that devours her. The demon that has toyed with her life for years.

  She orgasms again, and my balls tighten with the loss of control. I pull out to come on her stomach as my mouth covers hers, our tongues dancing while heavy streams spurt and shoot, my body trembling as thoroughly as hers, my fingers gripping down against her shoulders with the knowledge that I’ll never let her go.

  Ending that kiss, I press my lips to her forehead, feel her go still beneath me as deep sleep drags her down into its comforting hold.

  I drop my forehead to hers and close my eyes, knowing that I have to rip the bandage off soon.

  One fast rip as I pull the curtain back to show her who she is to me.

  And even if she screams, even if she’s frightened, I realize she’ll have to come around to it eventually.

  Even if it takes a fight for me to show her the truth, Adeline will soon know that she’s belonged to me all along.

  Adeline

  Waking up is like crawling from an abyss. A deep, dark canyon I’m not used to after years of chaotic dreams.

  Normally, the images chase me to the very edge of consciousness. The faces I don’t recognize, the people with clawing hands dragging me back. I know I’m awake before the dreams stop entirely, and opening my eyes is difficult. It’s like peeling off the skin of one life to return to another. Sometimes I apologize.

  I’m sorry, but I have to go...

  I live two separate lives, both so real that you’re left wondering which one is actual reality, and which one is made up.

  But not this morning.

  This morning, I struggle to consciousness from a place of nothing, I stretch my body and feel the ache in my muscles, I drag in a breath...and smell smoke.

  My eyes fly open to find Ari sitting in his usual spot on the floor against the wall.

  He’s only wearing loose pants, his muscular shoulders and chest bare to my gaze, his abdomen with so many ridges, I curl my fingers into my palms with the need to trace them.

  Legs bent and slightly apart in front of him, he leans his head back against the wall, his forearms balanced on his knees, a cigarette clutched between his fingers with wisps of white smoke swirling up like snakes.

  His mouth opens and smoke slowly pours over his lips.

  But his eyes are closed, so he doesn’t know I’m watching him.

  “Since when do you smoke?” I ask, forgetting that I’ve sworn not to speak to him while he keeps me trapped.

  The corner of his mouth curls, and I realize I still have never seen him smile.

  “It’s a nasty habit,” he says, his deep voice edged with exhaustion. “One I partake in rarely.”

  He drags in another puff, blows it out as those grey eyes that see everything open and turn my way.

  “You fuck in your sleep.”

  My eyes round wider, lips parting. And then I feel the evidence of what he said, the soreness, the moisture, the way my thighs stick together as if I’d been rode hard and put away wet.

  He must see the anger in my expression, but he only grins, leans his head against the wall again and says, “I’m not apologizing for what I did.”

  “You did that without permission.”

  “And you haven’t slept that soundly since the second I dragged you into this place.”

  Another drag, the smoke floating over his lips as he looks at me again. “Every night you scream and fight and cry. It’s been like that for years. I find it seriously interesting that after you get fucked well enough, you sleep like the dead. Maybe that’s what you’ve always needed.”

  Years?

  I mean, yes, he’s right about that, but how the hell would he know?

  There are so many things wrong with what he just said that I don’t know where to start.

  “I have a sleep disorder.”

  “I know. Trust me,” he laughs, the sound dark and tired, “I fucking know.”

  Wishing I could be angry, or at least deny the truth of what he told me, I know I can’t. I do a lot of things in my sleep. But that still doesn’t give him the right to take advantage.

  Opening my mouth to say so, my words are cut off when he speaks again.

  “What is it like? What do you see when you’re sleeping? Do you even know I’m there?”

  Shocked by the questions, I close my mouth, stare at him with the answers sitting on the tip of my tongue.

  Nobody has ever asked me that before. They never see past how my problem affects them to find out what I’m experiencing when it happens.

  Allowing myself to think about how to answer him, a moment comes back to me, a vision that’s never happened before.

  The shadow took form for the first time last night, my hands grasping him, finally catching that diaphanous shape and making it real.

  And God, the joy that bloomed inside me, the memory of it filling me now. It was heat and sunlight and a weightlessness. It was destiny and triumph and lust.

  Pure. Unbridled. Like finding the second half of my soul and finally making myself whole again.

  What do I see? I’ve never mentioned it to anybody. Not even to my neurologist. At the
time, I was too embarrassed to admit the truth.

  I admit it now, maybe to shock Ari or to run him off.

  To show him how messed up I am.

  “I see something or someone I can’t touch. A shadow. It’s there, always there. Standing above me just daring me to reach out. Sometimes it has a face, but I can’t remember it. It has a voice, but its words fade when I wake up. I dream while I’m awake, and that must be what it is, but the dream is always the same. And it devastates me when I can’t hold onto it.”

  His eyes move as he searches my face, but his expression is a blank mask.

  I’m waiting for the typical response, the hint that I’m a nutjob that needs medication. Poor Little Adeline, she’s not just reckless with her stupid decisions, she’s certifiable on top of it.

  When he doesn’t respond, I keep talking, only because the silence makes me tense.

  “I feel like I live a parallel life. That I experience things very few other people can understand. And the worst part is, I prefer that strange place. It scares other people, but I love it. It’s happened to me for as long as I can remember.”

  Those grey eyes are locked on my face, so many thoughts swirling behind them. But then his lips curl, and I think for a fraction of a second that he’ll smile, that I’ll finally see what his stern face looks like when it softens.

  “You’re fucking crazy.”

  Anger surges through me at the comment. At the laughter in his voice when he said it.

  “Fuck you.”

  Shaking his head, he tips his head back, and his lips stretch wider, the smile almost there. So close. Inwardly, I’m begging for it despite what he just said to me.

  “Don’t feel bad about it, Adeline. I have a thing for crazy. It’s what’s doomed you since the beginning.”

  His expression snaps back to the usual blank mask, grey eyes catching mine when he pulls his head forward and stares at me like I’m someone he’s known his entire life.

  “I’m letting you out of the room today.”

  Ari stabs the cigarette out in an ashtray sitting beside him, his body unmoving from where he sits against the wall. He’s so focused on what he’s doing that I take a moment to study his profile, to run my eyes down the strong line of his jaw.

  Dark stubble peppers his skin, his hair disheveled as if he just crawled out of bed.