Luckily, this time he played it cool. “Uh, yeah, I did. But he already had most of this stuff anyway, and he found a decent job here.” He smirked and held up his finger to my mouth playfully. “And before you ask, Sherlock, he works with computers, and that’s all you need to know.”
“Oh, being secretive now, are we?” I teased after he slowly removed his finger away from my lips.
“No,” he said, grinning. “I just knew you wouldn’t be able to understand any of his job description even if I tried to explain it to you.”
I gasped, pretending to be insulted, and smacked his arm with the back of my hand. All I hit was muscle. “So is the tour over, then? Or did you leave something out because you didn’t think I could handle it?”
He smiled, but not in the joking manner I would have expected. Instead, his smile looked almost apologetic, like a friend who is about to tell someone bad news. “It’s basically over. We just missed the kitchen, but we can head that way now.” He turned to lead me in that direction without waiting for a reply, and I followed.
Only two people were in the kitchen re-filling their cups with various drinks, but they left just after we arrived. Then it was empty. I was amazed at how stocked the kitchen counters were with alcohol. More so than the dining room table had been with food.
The spacious kitchen was fancy and elegant with marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, and a massive island in the middle, but much of the counter space and island were cluttered with large and small bottles of alcohol, mixers, some soda, and more plastic cups.
I didn’t actually have a problem with alcohol itself. It was the shadows that always accompanied it I didn’t care for. So, standing there amidst all the liquor didn’t really bother me or make me uncomfortable. Patrick’s next question, however, did.
“You’re probably thirsty. Can I get you a drink? I make a delicious mixed drink that hardly has any alcohol in it. You can’t even taste the alcohol, I promise. Everybody loves it.”
I had to pause and collect myself before I even thought about answering. Gripping the edge of the island, I laughed as a cover. “I think I’ve had alcohol maybe twice in my life. Once my sister and I snuck champagne at our family’s New Year’s Eve party. Another time I accidentally took a drink of vodka that someone brought to a football game. I thought it was water because it was just in a plain water bottle.” As I skirted around his question with my PG-rated past, I had to admit he was right about my being thirsty.
“Honestly, it barely has any alcohol in it anyway. It’ll be fine,” he pleaded as he gazed at me with his green kryptonite eyes and that smile that weakened all my inhibitions and sense of control. He was still free of any shadows, which was impressive considering they were practically invading his house, so I assumed I could trust him. Besides, I truly was parched for some reason.
“Um…all right, I guess. I am pretty thirsty.”
“Now…” He gazed up at me playfully as he lifted a plastic cup off the stack on the counter and continued in a mock-serious tone. “This is a trade secret recipe of mine, and I can’t exactly have you blabbing it to all your friends. So, if you don’t mind…” He made a circular spinning motion with his pointer finger, implying I couldn’t witness the creation of my drink for fear I might steal his treasured recipe.
I laughed as I turned around. “Please. I would hardly know how to duplicate it if I watched you make ten of them.”
“Yeah, well. We must take our precautions.”
I could still hear the teasing in his voice, but I also detected something resembling grief or anguish. But then it was drowned out by the ice machine in the freezer door, the noise of multiple glass and plastic bottles being opened and moved around, and liquids splashing over ice cubes, making them crackle and split.
“Okay, the magic is complete. You may now turn around and accept this gift.” Whatever was upsetting him a minute ago must have been pushed aside and replaced with humor. As I pivoted back to him, he was bowing slightly with his hands outstretched, cradling the drink as if it were the Holy Grail.
I covered my mouth and chuckled, and he lifted his head slowly with a provocative grin, his enticing eyes searing right through me like a branding iron. But instead of flinching away, I savored the wave of heat rippling all over my body like a sunbather soaks up the blazing rays of the sun. I began to wonder if I was more thirsty for a drink or for him.
I accepted the cup. “Thanks.”
As I took my first sip, he watched expectantly, waiting for me to either nod in approval or spit it out in disgust. I was surprised that I actually did like it a lot, and he was right about hardly being able to taste the alcohol. Whatever he had put in it, it was refreshing, even fruity, and it tasted so good on my dry mouth. I tilted my head back and went for it.
“So…I guess that means you like it?” Patrick asked as I gulped down the last of the drink without saying a word. He regarded me with raised eyebrows and an expression of gratified astonishment.
“Oh, sorry. Yeah…I liked it.” I smiled sheepishly and then looked down into the bottom of my plastic cup, swirling around the few lone ice cubes that were left. He chuckled as I set it down on the cool marble of the island.
I was unsure what to do next and still not entirely convinced of Patrick’s feelings for me. I decided to peer into his magnetic eyes in an attempt to gain some insight. As I stared, the pulsating beat from the front room and muffled screams from the movie down the hall merged into one sound that seemed to escalate to an intense roar that throbbed inside my head.
Patrick’s eyes lured me toward him and gave me confidence. With only three feet of marble separating us, I found myself longing to jump over the surface like an animal to close the distance and continue what we had started in my bedroom just a few short weeks ago. He shattered my fantasy, though, when he suddenly dropped his gaze to glance at my cup with a solemn face and furrowed eyebrows.
I had no idea what was bothering him, but I could tell it was tearing him up inside. I immediately felt sorry for him, wishing somehow I could fix it even though I had no clue how.
Half a minute later, he took a deep breath and smiled up at me hesitantly. “You know, I left out the entire second floor of my house on my tour. I’d hate for you to feel like you didn’t get your money’s worth.”
“Oh,” I said in surprise. I had forgotten. If the upstairs was anything resembling the downstairs, I definitely wanted to see it. “Sure, why not?”
Patrick wanted to stop by the living room and check on all our friends first, so we did. They were still watching the gory horror movie. We paused behind the couch without saying anything and watched for several minutes, but Patrick eyed me almost more than the giant flat-screen. He must have noticed me turning green as I was starting to get a little woozy from all the blood and guts, because he quietly motioned his hand to the large open doorway leading to the staircase for us to leave.
As we trekked through the crowd of people in the front room lounging around in pretty much the same locations as before, my eyes caught something out of place and I instinctively knew it hadn’t been there earlier. Standing with its arms crossed, alone and separated from all the party-goers, was a black shadow glaring at us like an evil chaperone. Its eyes followed us as we made our way to the grand staircase near the front door. I opened my mouth in shock and averted my eyes, not wanting to draw any more attention to us but still sensing its glare on the back of my head.
I didn’t have time to dwell on it further, however, because once we finally reached the staircase, I began to feel a strange sensation rush over me. I stumbled onto the first step.
Chapter 19
THE NEXT FEW MINUTES climbing the stairs and briefly touring the spare bedroom and bathroom were a staggering blur. Every second I was falling further and further down a rabbit hole of dizziness and confusion. I knew where I was and whom I was with, but that gave me little comfort. I quickly became scared and anxious as the hazy black hole grew faster and fa
ster, enveloping me like a heavy cloak. With my hypnotic tunnel vision and fumbling, sluggish steps, it was as though I was under water or that gravity had suddenly become much too strong for my frail form.
We entered what I thought I heard Patrick call his room (I couldn’t be too sure, because all sound, including the muffled music and laughter from downstairs, seemed to be traveling through water as well). We stopped walking, and I faltered as my body apparently couldn’t decide whether or not it wanted to keep moving despite my brain telling it to stop. Patrick caught me and supported my weight as effortlessly as if I were a bundle of feathers, which was extraordinary because at the moment I felt like a ton of bricks.
“Are you okay?” he asked with an even voice that didn’t sound as surprised at my falling as it should have.
I leaned back just enough to attempt gazing into his eyes without getting dizzy while still allowing his arms to support me as they wrapped tightly around my waist. His fingers interlocked and his hands pressed solidly against my back. “I-I don’t know.”
I blinked twice and made an effort to gaze at him again, but my head felt heavy and dipped to the side. He caught it skillfully with one hand, sliding his fingers into my hair as his other strong hand continued to support my back. As he peered deeply into my hazy eyes, I was able to focus long enough on his to momentarily notice the intense, agonizing pain and anguish there. It was as if he were about to tell me my mother had just died in an awful accident. He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he gripped my waist and neck, yanked me to him, and pressed his mouth firmly against mine.
I wasn’t sure at first where it was all leading or what was going on with my balance and vision, but my hormones rapidly overcame my mind. I allowed myself to melt into Patrick’s arms. I was tired of trying to focus and hold myself up anyway, and his embrace and stimulating touch electrified me in a way that was practically impossible to resist.
My awareness and sense of movement must have been impaired as well, because I didn’t notice when we shifted from standing to lying horizontally on his bed. The only thing I was halfway aware of was Patrick’s muscular body in motion on top of mine, his lips and tongue fondling my mouth, face, ears, and neck. I tried to keep up, but he was moving so fast and I was moving so slowly that I started to feel as though I were hardly participating.
“Wait,” I exhaled softly once my lips became free. I didn’t want the moment with Patrick to fly by without savoring it, and my brain was still so fuzzy I needed a minute to breathe.
Patrick only paused for a few seconds, but in those few seconds, I became more confused than I already had been about what he was thinking. His eyes bore into mine with the same agony and distress as before. The expression seemed completely and utterly out-of-place for the heated, physical moment I was trying to enjoy, even with my request to wait, which was merely meant to prolong it.
His hesitancy didn’t last long, however, as he disregarded my request and pressed his face back into my neck with an erotic kiss that managed to hide his tormented face.
Once again, Patrick began to move quickly, and his hands started to traverse to uncharted territory. My brain sluggishly attempted to catch up. Once it did, the logical reasoning part of my mind fought back the murky lust and desire and forced me to comprehend something was wrong. I had to struggle to combat my animal instinct to let Patrick continue his exploratory journey of my body. But as I did, the obvious questions I should have already been asking myself started forming, piece by piece, in my head into one big picture…
How far is Patrick wanting to take this? With one hand by my head propping up his torso over mine, he used his other hand to grope down my chest until it found the bottom hem of my shirt. He slowly slid the shirt up with his hand as it simultaneously caressed the skin of my stomach, leaving it exposed.
How far do I want him to take this? His fingers traced around my belly button and slipped just under the waistline of my jeans as his excessive, sensual kisses kept my face and neck occupied. Didn’t I always tell myself that I wouldn’t have sex until I was married? When did that idealistic girl get replaced with this hormone-raging, impulsive teenager? What happened to my inhibitions?
At that last question, my eyes flew wide open as I quickly replayed in my mind what happened in the kitchen with Patrick just a half hour ago. The pieces floating in my disoriented mind came crashing together like magnetic rocks. Could it be? Could he actually have put something in my drink? I could have sworn there were no shadows even in the room with us. How could I not have seen this coming? He began to unbutton my jeans, and all my lustful passion suddenly morphed into crazed anxiety and fear. I fought to break forth from the oppressive daze that encompassed me like a panicked girl trapped in frigid waters under a sheet of ice, pounding and pounding on her frozen prison, but to no avail.
Through my sedation, all I could muster was a quiet, “Stop…Please stop.”
He had to have heard me because his body and hands ceased their frantic movement for a few seconds and he exhaled heavily. He turned his head, not wanting to meet my eyes, but his grief and guilt were apparently not stronger than whatever was driving him to continue against my wishes. Taking a deep breath, he moved his hand back over my stomach to my jeans, and my zipper unzipped.
The next few minutes were a blur as my mind was so hazy I was barely aware what was going on. The door slammed open and a stream of light from the hallway poured into the darkened room, blinding both Patrick and me. Two thoughts instantly ran through my mind. First, I wanted to cover my squinting eyes but didn’t have enough energy to move my hand to my head. Second, I wanted to push off Patrick and fix my clothing, but I couldn’t for the same reason.
Instead, I lay motionless, now not only helpless and scared but also embarrassed. I reluctantly bent my head to the silhouette in the bright doorway, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the light enough for me to see who was now sharing in my humiliation and horror.
“Kyra?” I muttered in disbelief, even more embarrassed than before. I swear, as I said her name, Patrick let out a sigh of relief.
As Kyra stepped through the doorway into full view, Patrick backed off of me and slouched at the foot of the bed, looking pitifully wretched. His body heaved and he breathed heavily in a sob without tears. His expression reminded me of a desperate murderer who is so anguished over what he has done that he points his gun to his own temple in despair. In my foggy state of mind, despite what he had almost done to me, I pitied him. It was obvious that he didn’t actually want to go through with his shameful plans. I had a feeling Kyra wouldn’t see it that way.
“What on earth were you thinking?” Kyra yelled furiously as she glared at us. At first I wasn’t sure if she was yelling at me or Patrick. Some of the light from the hallway had seemed to follow her into the room, and I realized it was her glowing aura flickering around her like an intense flame.
Patrick whimpered, “I had to.”
Kyra sighed and her tone softened unexpectedly, still firm yet bordering on sympathetic. “You know it doesn’t have to be this way.”
“I had no choice!” Patrick cried pathetically.
Kyra looked him straight in the eyes with unwavering conviction and spoke in a commanding voice. “You always have a choice!”
As Kyra marched over to me still lying helpless on the bed, her powerfully blazing aura accompanied her.
Patrick jumped off the bed hastily and fell to the ground by the foot of the bed. Fear infused with suffering burned in his eyes as he stared, but once she reached me and began re-assembling my disheveled clothing, he ducked his head in shame.
Kyra swiftly made me whole and presentable again, at least on the outside. On the inside I was a confused, violent maelstrom that, instead of spewing forth like a torrent, was forced to remain contained and turbulent in my subdued, weakened frame.
Then, as if the current situation wasn’t horrendous enough, just as Kyra finished fixing my shirt and attempted lifting me into
a sitting position, another silhouette appeared in the doorway. I squinted to identify the figure as I gradually sat up with Kyra’s aid, but my eyes went blurry in my dizziness. I had to focus on the bed for a moment to regain my bearings. There was no need to look again. It only took three words from his mouth to know exactly who it was.
“What is this?” Josh shrieked, easily sizing up the situation as his eyes darted back and forth between me on the bed, clearly not myself and needing Kyra’s aid, and Patrick on the floor in a writhing puddle of self-torture and agony.
I closed my eyes tightly and slowly put my hand to my forehead. I didn’t have to be completely lucid to recognize that our wreck of a situation had just escalated from a mild concussion to being thrown through the windshield of the car.
Josh quickly saw that he wasn’t going to get any answers out of either Patrick or me, so he turned to Kyra, who was now in a hurry to move me off the bed and onto my feet. “What’s going on here? Is it what I think it is? Because if it is—” he glared back at Patrick “—so help me, there will not be enough stitches in the state to sew him up after—”
“Enough!” Kyra stopped him as she finally succeeded in getting me to stand.
Josh whirled around to her with expectant eyes, waiting for her to give some sort of explanation. Instead, she glanced at Patrick who was still tormenting himself. There was such oddly strong pity and remorse in her eyes that I sensed she didn’t want to expose Patrick any more than he had wanted to take advantage of me. I couldn’t figure out why, but she was clearly torn between letting Patrick off easy and allowing what he deserved to happen.
She studied Josh for a few seconds, and then pressed her lips firmly together before turning to me. Throwing my arm over her shoulder and supporting me with her arm wrapped around my waist, she calmly stated, “Iris, we need to go.” She began to shuffle us toward the door.
I did my best to keep up and not look as though I were a complete clumsy mess but failed. Josh took one long side-step and blocked the doorway as we approached it.
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