Lost Petal

by Linnea May

  The thought of not being a part of her life. The thought of being forced to stand on the sidelines as I watched her suffer, as I watched her heal, knowing that I was the one to make it possible. As I watched her blossom, as I watched her fall in love, as I watched her wilt. I’ve always been close to her, except for those four years she spent on the other side of the country. Yet there has always been this distance keeping us apart because other people were afraid of me.

  Who am I to her?

  Malia is asking an intriguing question.

  Chapter 28

  Petal

  “Please.”

  I breathe the word in such anguish that it comes out as barely more than a weak whisper.

  Of course, it makes him smile. He approaches me with leisurely steps, his arms crossed in front of his chest, the black shirt stretching across his defined muscles while he tilts his head to the side.

  “Please what?” he wants to know, coming to a halt right next to the bed.

  “Please release me.”

  “Release you?” he repeats, arching his eyebrows as he casts me an unimpressed smirk. “From what?”

  I blush as he places his hand on my thigh, adding a gentle squeeze that sends fiery sparks through my core. His hand is so warm, so strangely familiar. I mewl when he moves it, turning inward as he slowly caresses the soft flesh on my upper thigh, traveling dangerously close to my center.

  I thought I had calmed down. I thought that little excursion into the deepest corner of my mind had killed the agonizing arousal that pulsated through my body with impatient greed. He was gone for so long, leaving me with nothing but my dark mind to flee to. But now he’s back. And just like that, with a simple look, a quiet touch, his presence dominating the atmosphere around me—I’m back to that vertigo filled with desire.

  My lower lip is trembling as his hand journeys further, the tips of his fingers already gracing my soft folds.

  “You didn’t ask me to untie you,” he points out. “But to release you.”

  I can’t suppress a tormented moan when he parts my lips.

  “That’s interesting.” The smile on his face widens when he lets a finger glide inside me so easily that it sends another wave of heat to my cheeks.

  “Please let me...”

  “Come?” he finishes the plea for me.

  I’m not even sure if that’s the word I was missing. My eyes narrow as I look up at him, treacherous heat radiating from my body while he continues to finger me. It feels so good, so right, promising the release I crave so badly. I don’t want to let him know just how good it feels, but I can’t help it. My pulse accelerates and my breathing hikes when he goes on to massage my most sensitive spot.

  “Poor little Petal,” he whispers. “So desperate to come. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? You don’t care about the ropes on your limbs, or the clamps on your sore tits. You just want to come on my hand, like you did downstairs.”

  “That’s not true,” I object. Yet I groan when he intensifies his massage on my clit.

  Fuck. Why does it have to feel so good? Why does he have to be so good at this?

  “Don’t lie to me, Petal,” he warns. “Your body betrays you.”

  I press my lips together, my eyes latching onto his dark hazel gaze while he continues his magic between my legs.

  “Why so stubborn, Petal?”

  Because I don’t want you to win. I don’t want you to be right. I don’t want to say the things you want me to say.

  I don’t dare to give voice to any of the things that pop up inside my head. He’s right, and he knows it. Why does he even need me to say anything when it’s this obvious already? Why does he enjoy torturing me this much?

  For a few moments, it appears as if he doesn’t need an answer from me. He continues his skillful massage, drawing circles around my nub, teasing me, evoking moans and spasms that rock my entire body while he spreads me with, not one, but two fingers. Every time he caresses my clit, I feel another explosion of bliss unsettling my core, each blast bringing me closer to the climax I’ve been denied.

  And then he stops. A shocked gasp escapes me when he withdraws his hand, letting it rest on the inner side of my thigh while he catches my indignant look.

  “Say it,” he urges me. “Tell me what you want.”

  I’m so dizzy with lust that it almost makes me sick, wishing for nothing more than to finally be released from this overwhelming tension.

  Fuck it. If this is what it takes to save myself, so be it.

  “Please, let me come,” I beg, my eyelashes fluttering as I fight not to close my eyes in shame. I know he wouldn’t allow it, and it would only make matters worse.

  “Good girl,” he says.

  I sigh with relief, tensing in anticipation as I prepare myself for the peak I’m sure I’ve earned right now.

  But while he offered me that promising praise, it appears he has no intentions of giving me the fulfillment I begged for.

  He refrains from touching me as he sits down on the edge of the bed, next to my waist, his eyes resting on the clamps that are tightened around my hard nipples.

  “I know you have a lot of questions, Petal,” he says, his voice surprisingly somber. “And there will be a day when you’ll get your answers, when it will all make sense to you.”

  I shiver with anticipation and need when the tips of his fingers journey along the left side of my waist, causing a slight tickle and reminding me how much I crave to be touched by him. But more than his touch, it’s his words that make me tense up in expectation, the prospect of a conversation I’ve longed for ever since I woke up making my heart race.

  “But today is not that day,” he continues, nipping my hopes in the bud. “Today, I’m going to be the one to ask questions, and you’ll answer them truthfully.”

  He pauses, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth when he adds, “If you want to be allowed to come, that is.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  He chuckles. “True. Life’s not fair.”

  “I have nothing to tell you,” I hiss. “You know more about me than I do. I don’t even remember my name.”

  “Your name is Petal.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Yes, it is,” he cuts me off, raising his voice so much that it makes me flinch. “You asked me to release you, and I’m promising to give you that. All you have to do is answer me a few questions. I know you’re a smart girl. You’ve always—”

  He bites his lips, while my eyebrows arch with interest. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him do this, stopping himself from speaking because he’s afraid of revealing too much. He always seemed so in control, so in power over everything, impossible to read and impossible to be subdued in any sense.

  This is the first time he’s shown weakness. And it’s the first time he’s telling me something about himself, about us.

  He knows me.

  Just like the black-haired girl, he knows the person I used to be before waking up in here. He played a part in my life, but I’m sure it was a pretty different role than the girl played. It’s hard to imagine that he was a friend, or even a lover—or anybody who was well-disposed toward me. No, as much pleasure as his skilled touch manages to bestow on me, there’s something dark and alarming about him. He says he doesn’t want to hurt me, yet he keeps me as his prisoner, refuses to answer my questions, and continues to play these unnerving games with me.

  How could he possibly be someone who wants me well? It must be the exact opposite.

  A suspicion starts to dawn in me, and the clearer the realization becomes, the more it’s readable on my face.

  He looks at me, a deep crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Something happened, right, Petal?”

  His question startles me, and at first, I know of nothing to respond with but a questioning look.

  “You saw something while I was gone, didn’t you?” he continues, his inquiring gaze piercing me down.

  My eyes trail
over to the white rose across the room, my only confidant in this tale, the first and only to guide me toward some sort of answer, a hazy memory, a start.

  “You know me,” I whisper. “You’ve known me before all of this. Just like her. You know me. But you’re not my friend.”

  His expression hardens, but he neither confirms nor objects to my statement.

  “And you’re right, I saw something. A memory,” I go on, both my hands curling into fists as I summon the strength to share with him. “I saw a man, a tall and strong man. A bad man. He was keeping me away from something, or someone, denying me something I craved so badly it hurt. I was drawn to it, trying to grasp that promise for happiness, but he kept it from me. He forbade me to have it.”

  I was hoping to see recognition on his face, an indication of me being on the right path. But his expression remains unreadable. He presses his lips together, still displaying a faint crease between his brows while his eyes are locked on mine, listening intently without anything to say in response.

  “You are that man, aren’t you?” I finally dare to say, my pulse hastening as I await his reaction. “You’re the man who’s been denying me happiness. You do it now, still.”

  He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he lowers his gaze. A hint of triumph kisses me, lifting my spirit like nothing ever has since I’ve regained consciousness in this strange dream. I feel like I have won, like I uncovered a truth that he wished to be hidden for longer, now seeing himself forced to give up a facade I could never believe in anyway.

  But when he raises his head, looking back at me through those ominous eyes, I instantly realize there’s no such thing as victory for me. And that understanding is reinforced when he voices his defeating reply.

  “Oh Petal, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

  Chapter 29

  J

  It’s hard to find a name for the expression on her face. Disappointment? Repulsion? Disbelief? The only thing that’s for certain is that she’s not happy about my words. She fights them with every fiber of her being.

  “Why would you say that?” she utters. “I can’t be wrong.”

  I get it.

  She saw the enemy. She saw a fogged memory of the forces that made her life miserable. And she wants me to be that man. Because it would make sense. I can’t blame her for making this assumption, but it hurts nonetheless.

  I knew that this could happen. Erasing a person’s memory never comes without the risk of such confusion, even in cases that are less extraordinary than hers. Petal is special in too many ways to count, but above all, it’s her value to me that makes her so exceptional.

  “I’m not that man, Petal,” I tell her. “You’ll have to believe me.”

  She snorts. “Believe you? Trust you? It baffles me that you really consider this to be an option. Why don’t you just admit that you’re lying?”

  Gnashing my teeth, I try to calm myself. I hate her accusations, and I hate the way she looks at me now. A heavy overtone of disgust darkens her pretty face. It gives her an unsightly appearance I never deemed possible.

  She jerks to the side when I touch her arm, and my chest tightens when I see her denying even such an innocent gesture. I may be a monster, but I’m not the kind of monster she believes me to be. Turning her face away from me, she cuts off eye contact now, refusing to grant me even the smallest basis for interaction.

  “Look at me, Petal.”

  Much to my surprise, she complies with my demand right away. Her eyes are laced with hope and anticipation when they find mine, still craving so much that I cannot give her.

  “There may be a lot of things that I’m withholding from you right now,” I say, making sure to never break eye contact with her for even a second. That’s what liars do, and I’m not a liar, despite what she may think. “I admit that I can’t answer your many questions to your satisfaction, but I can promise you this: I may remain silent on some issues, but I’ll always be truthful to you.”

  Grave silence stretches between us, our eyes locked on to each other while she processes my words, her lips moving as if she were tasting them, still unsure what to think.

  Her breathing has calmed, the clamps on her nipples heaving and lowering leisurely, as if their enticing blend of pain and bliss was forgotten. But I know it will take just a simple twist to bring it back, and to turn her mind from this calm state of contemplation to lust-fueled tension.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” Her question shouldn’t surprise me. She has asked it many times before, and she will continue to do so.

  What kind of reply could she possibly expect, though? And what good would it do her to hear the answer, no matter what truth it holds?

  Her face softens when I reach out to stroke her cheek, barely touching her pristine skin as I follow the outline of her delicate jaw. It’s part of the allure to see her struggle like this, alternating between the many emotional states my presence evokes in her. She’s handling this so much better than I ever expected.

  “A stone shines brighter when you grind it to bits,” I say in a low voice. “And you, my dear Petal, have the potential to shine brighter than all the others combined.”

  Her eyes grow wide, glistening with the first sign of tears as she looks up at me, visibly confused by my vague but charming words.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s true.”

  My response doesn’t satisfy her. She furrows her eyebrows as she ponders what to do with it, how to handle a statement that sounds like an exaggerated compliment and nothing less. I wish she could just take it for what it is, but I know her better than that.

  I knew her better than that. Extinguishing this much of a person’s memory, pretty much everything that’s personal to them, everything that molded them into the person they were before giving themselves to me… it’s a dangerous job. I had little to no experience with an application of this magnitude, because I’m usually asked for smaller deeds.

  This was new to me, too.

  I cup her face with my hand, and she lets it happen. She even closes her eyes, looking so utterly relaxed when she leans into my touch, seeking comfort in someone who’s given her so much pain. She doesn’t know about all the good things I’ve done to her; she can’t know. But in this moment, as she solemnly closes her eyes and rests into my soothing touch, it seems like she can still feel it somewhere, that connection we used to have.

  The connection we still have.

  “You’re so cruel,” she whispers, her lips trembling as she fights another wave of tears. “Why does this feel so good?”

  I’m glad she has her eyes closed, because I wouldn’t want her to see the smile that widens on my face as she speaks.

  “Remember our deal, Petal?”

  She offers a nod. Not enough.

  “Respond to me like I told you to,” I remind her. “Do you remember our deal?”

  She bites her lower lip, facing another struggle that ends in the correct conclusion for once.

  “Yes, master.”

  I can tell that having her eyes closed is making this a lot easier for her, but I let it pass for now. I want something from her and have to be careful not to overexert her right now.

  “A few questions, and I’ll make you come,” I say. “It’s as simple as that.”

  She nods, pressing her lips together as they threaten to spawn backtalk from instinct.

  “Tell me more about the things you saw,” I ask of her. “About the memory, the man you saw.”

  “Men,” she corrects me. “There were actually several of them. Three, I think.”

  I nod. “Go on.”

  “I felt close to one of them. I wanted to be closer to him,” she continues. “He wanted me, too. He was waiting for me, reaching his hand out to me. But when I tried to approach him, I was pushed back.”

  “By...?”

  “One of the other men.” Her forehead wrinkles as she relives the memory. “He stopped it. He stopped me from
getting what I wanted. And I know he’s done it before, many times.”

  It fucking bothers me that of all things, he is the first memory she regains access to. He was the main reason we did this in the first place. He was the one who drove her to me. And now he’s still haunting her, still holding his seemingly protective arm over her, even when she tried to shed him.

  “Just like you,” she says, sending a hot knife through my heart. “You denied me, just like that man in my memory.”

  I shake my head. “That’s not true, Petal.”

  She snivels, squeezing her eyes shut as a new trail of tears adorns her cheeks.

  “I’ve never been so humiliated. So tormented.”

  I can’t suppress a dark chuckle at her words, and I relish the way she shivers when I lean over her, placing my lips right above hers, so close we’re almost touching.

  “How would you know, Petal?” I ask her. “You don’t remember anything. How could you even use the word ‘never’?”

  She stiffens, holding her breath for a few moments, before she opens her eyes to look at me.

  And then, she begins to laugh.

  Chapter 30

  Petal

  I don’t even know where this is coming from. This foreign sound. My own laughter. It scares me, it baffles me, just as much as it amuses me.

  Because only a crazy person could laugh at this. Only someone who’s gone completely insane.

  Or someone who feels at ease and comfortable with the person who’s next to them. His touch on my cheek didn’t feel intrusive and threatening. On the contrary; it gave me solace and a place to retreat to while everything around me is just an ominous cloud of uncertainty. I managed to call him master, like he wants me to.

  And it didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t make me want to scream and thrash around helplessly, hitting whatever—or whomever—was within reach.