Dionne
My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking. I pressed my palms flat against my thighs and forced myself to breathe, but the dream wouldn't fade. It clung to me like humidity, sticky and inescapable.
The red room. The instruments on the wall. The way my body had responded to the thought of them. The way I'd stripped myself bare and laid myself out like an offering.
And the King.
I squeezed my eyes shut but I could still see him. The gold in his eyes. The heat of him pressing me into that mattress. The way every cell in my body had screamed yes when it should've been screaming run.
And that voice.
*"Where are you? Why did you leave?"*
It wasn't the King's voice. It felt foreign, yet oddly familiar. That was what scared me. Not the question itself — though the question was strange enough. What did it mean? And why was I so aroused by it?
