Marrow

KYRIE

“You came,” I say as Jack approaches from the narrow path, the brittle leaves of beech trees scraping one another as he moves low-hanging branches out of his way. There’s no controlling the smile I beam at him as he enters the small clearing and draws to a halt to take in the log cabin behind me.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me, Kyrie,” Jack says, pinning me with a glare. “I nearly missed the note.”

“But you didn’t,” I say, trying not to let his concern burrow too deep into memory. My smile brightens and I spread my arms wide. “And here we are.”

Jack’s glare finally softens a little when he looks toward the cabin. I turn on my heel to follow his gaze, admiring the dark lines of wood and the weathered porch, original features paired with my own modifications of solar panels and hidden cameras. When I face him once more, Jack is watching me, a gleam in his eyes as though he’s seeing me for the first time.

“You built this?” he asks, nodding toward the cabin.

“No,” I say with a little laugh. “No, this belonged to my grandfather. But I’ve made some changes over the years.”

Jack nods as his gaze lands on one of the more visible cameras bolted beneath the overhang of the roof. When his attention returns to me he takes a careful step forward, and then another. Maybe he thinks this is some kind of trap. Maybe there’s something in the excitement I can barely contain that’s a little too feral, a little too suspicious. So when Jack stops in front of me, his hands still buried deep in his pockets, I’m the one who closes the distance between us, rising on my tiptoes to fold my hand across his nape and draw him into a kiss. I grip the edge of his open jacket with my free hand, the metal teeth of the zipper digging into my palm as I pull him closer. My tongue runs across the seam of his lips, demanding entry to lavish his mouth with a taste of the desire that coats my chest in flame.

He can’t resist me.

I already know he doesn’t want to, even if he’s tried for so long to stand in his own way. Jack’s hands lay on my face, bringing warmth to my cold skin as he traces the chill in my cheekbones with his fingertips until the tingle of his touch starts coursing through my body. I have to force myself to do it, but I’m the one who breaks the kiss. It’s my enthusiasm for my surprise that pulls me back, and the fear too, if I’m being honest. There’s an exhilaration in following my instincts, but an awareness that I could be wrong, though that carries its own intoxicating desire that pulls me away like a tide.

“What are we doing here?” he asks, moving to take a step toward the cabin. I tighten my grip on his jacket to keep him from getting closer.

“I have a little present for you,” I reply, my grin unstoppable as I turn away to the expedition pack lying at the edge of the clearing. The wary look he shoots me proves he recognizes this backpack, but instead of some grad student’s severed limb, I take out a tablet, turning it on to select a thumbnail view that I enlarge before I hand it to Jack. His eyes hold mine for a long moment before he looks at the screen, his lips parting as he takes in the live image. “Do you like it?”

“Colby Cameron,” Jack whispers, his voice a reverential prayer. I give him time, staying quiet until he’s ready to look up from the screen. “You have him here.”

I nod before I return to my belongings, drawing a rusted metal chain from the backpack. “He’s in the basement. But you can’t go in. It will ruin our fun.”

I wink as I pass by with the chain looped over my shoulder. It’s what dangles at my back that catches Jack’s eye, and he follows every movement of the metal contraption as I head to the mouth of the path he just emerged from. I drop to a knee and lay the foothold trap on the narrow, worn track, opening the jaws and setting the spring levers before I cover the area with fallen leaves. It’s not perfect, but I know Colby will be too desperate to take much notice of anything on the ground.

“Don’t go wandering. There are more like it surrounding the property, and these traps are both ancient and unforgiving,” I warn as I return to my pack and the camo print case that lays beneath it. I toss the expedition pack to Jack and he catches it, his brow furrowing when his gaze collides with mine. “There’s a garrote in there. Some knives too. Hopefully something you’ll like. I’m just here as a contingency plan.”

I flash Jack a grin and drop my gaze to the case I’ve unzipped, unfolding it to reveal a compound bow and twelve arrows. I’m pulling out the first arrow and double-checking the fletchings when the backpack lands next to me.

“You do it,” Jack says. When I look up, his gunmetal eyes are hooded, the shadows burning with an unnamed fire, igniting my veins like fuses.

“But he was yours,” I reply, leaning back on my haunches to study him.

“We’re even then, since I took one of your targeted victims.”

“Right,” I say with a breath of a laugh. “Ryan Young. I was looking forward to that one. And you never even gave me any details of how that all went down. What prompted you to go for him, anyway?”

Jack’s shoulders tense as though he’s bracing for the unknown. “I was irritated. A certain colleague was worming her way beneath my bones. I needed to let off some steam.”

I huff a laugh. “What a shocker. You find me irritating. How romantic,” I quip with a broad smile that only spreads as the crease between Jack’s brows appears. My attention returns to the arrows as I pull another from the case.

“No, Kyrie. I was irritated I couldn’t shake free of you, no matter how hard I tried.” Jack takes a step closer, drawing my gaze from the work of my hands. He approaches with slow and methodical progress, a hunter hoping not to provoke an attack from an unpredictable animal. When he’s within reach, he squats to study me, balancing on the balls of his feet. “I was irritated that I couldn’t carve you out of my thoughts, and the harder I tried, the more impossible it became. You’re the one person I couldn’t stop. The only person I couldn’t overcome.” Jack reaches out and curls a stray lock of hair behind my ear, resting his palm on the side of my face. “I was frustrated because I didn’t think I could have you, the one thing I truly wanted.”

I lay my hand on Jack’s and press my cheek into his cool palm. I wish I had the bravery to say it out loud, to tell him how I really feel. That I love him. I wonder if he’s ever heard it before. If he has, did the person really mean it? Or was it a deception? Would Jack know that my words are true? Would it scare him away if he did?

“You have me, Jack,” I say. And though I can’t give him more words than that, I can show him. I pull him closer until his lips are only the width of a thread from mine. “I’m yours, always. And you’re mine.”

Jack’s breath warms my skin, a slow exhalation. Energy courses between us like unsteady waves beneath a sudden breeze. And it’s Jack who inches closer, who presses his lips to mine, whose hand threads through my hair to grip the back of my neck as he deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue across mine. His free hand finds my waist to hold my balance steady as he presses closer, demanding more of my touch, more of my thoughts, until the outside world is gone. The arrows fall from my hand and I grip his jacket, kissing him back with the urgency of every emotion I can’t yet voice, but every one he needs to know.

I’m nearly ready to tear his clothes off when Jack slows the kiss to a breaking point, pressing his forehead to mine as though the separation is as painful for him as it is for me. “I want to watch you,” he whispers, his gaze soldered to my lips. My eyes drift closed as he lays a lingering kiss to my cheek, grazing my lashes. Jack loosens my hand from his jacket and lays the dropped arrows in my palm. His kiss leaves my skin only to press once more to my forehead, and then his touch is gone, my heart swelling against my bones until it aches.

Jack watches in silence as I ready my bow, removing a few more arrows and clipping them to the quiver. I move the backpack and the case against the side of the cabin where they’ll be out of sight, and then I motion him over as I bring up the tablet. We crouch against the logs at the corner of the cottage where we can see through the railings of the porch toward the narrow path. I hand the tablet to Jack as I navigate through the menus to bring up the door locks and controls.

“Did you install all this?” Jack asks as I hover over the command to open all doors, including the one to the glass cage where Colby sits on his bed, his head in his hands.

“Of course. It’s not really like I could bring in someone to do it for me. Might raise some questions, don’t you think?” I press the confirmation button and we watch the screen as the glass door unlocks and swings open, Colby startling and rising to his feet as he considers his potential freedom with warranted suspicion.

“This is truly impressive, Kyrie.”

I snort a laugh at the admiration in Jack’s low voice. “Now you know why I was so pissed when you blamed me for the CRYO freezer incident.”

We grow quiet as we watch Colby take his chance to escape. He exits the glass cage and turns in the room, looking for a weapon, pulling a large knife from a row of blades on the wall. His pace quickens as he opens the door at the bottom of the stairs and takes them by twos, pausing as he reaches the second door that enters the basement. When he finds the exit to the main floor, I nock my arrow and slide a glance and a devious smile to Jack before rising to peek around the edge of the cabin.

Colby tries to keep his steps light across the floorboards, but I still hear every footfall of his bare feet as he crosses the living room, the front door already opened enough for him to slip through. I lean back out of sight as he pauses for a heartbeat when he reaches the porch.

A breath later, he’s running like a hunted stag.

I ready my arrow as I watch Colby dart across the planks, wild and unfocused, not even touching the porch steps as he launches himself off the deck and lands on the grass, breaking toward the path. He gathers speed across the small clearing. He’s sprinting for his life.

Colby’s foot hits the trap full force, the metal jaws snapping against his bones to the sound of his scream.

The cries filling the clearing are pained and desperate as Colby tries to process what’s just happened and to work through his pain. I watch through the bow sight as he grabs the jaws and pulls, wailing when they won’t give up his leg. The pointed iron teeth will be digging in deep, likely scraping his bone, and excitement skitters up my spine when I imagine the moment I’ll be able to see the damage up close. When Colby seems to realize his efforts are futile, he rises on his good foot and limps a step forward, his weapon forgotten among the crisp, fallen leaves.

I release my fingers and let my arrow fly.

Colby drops to his knees with a desolate scream. I turn to Jack with my hand over my mouth, trying and failing to muffle a laugh.

“I think I shot him in the asshole,” I whisper as Colby continues to shriek at the edge of the clearing. We peer around the corner of the cabin to watch him crawl in agony. His arm flails across his back as he tries to work out what to do with the arrow jutting from between his buttocks.

“That’s definitely in there,” Jack says. Colby gives up on the arrow and refocuses on the path, crying out with every arduous movement of his futile efforts to escape. “Impressive shot.”

“Thanks. I think it’s even better than the time I skewered Mike Connors in the dick and balls in one shot,” I reply, passing my bow to Jack. “I guess I should put him out of his misery.”

Colby hasn’t gotten far, not even out of sight of the clearing as he drags himself along the path. He doesn’t hear me approach, doesn’t realize I’m right behind him until I grab the chain of the trap and tug. He screams when I bear my weight against his, clutching the rusted links over my shoulder as I turn toward the cottage and drag him back into the clearing. Jack steps in front of the porch to watch our progress, his hands leaving his pockets to form tense fists and his gaze turning lethal when Colby manages to kick my legs with his free foot. The string of insults and obscenities Colby screams at me only darken the aura of the other killer in our midst. Jack is nearly vibrating with rage as he stalks a few strides closer, but he lurches to a halt when I throw up a hand and toss him an untroubled smile.

“You really are a slow learner, aren’t you, Mr. Candyman,” I say when I drop the chain and withdraw the hunting knife strapped to my belt. I turn toward Colby as he tries to kick me away, dragging himself backwards on his hip, howling with agony when the arrow catches on the ground. Tears carve hot paths down his skin. A string of pleas and swears and desperate prayers tumble from his trembling lips. “There is no escaping me.”

I lunge forward. Colby kicks out exactly the way I knew he would.

My blade meets his inner thigh. I drive it in deep, severing the femoral artery. When I withdraw my knife, the blood gushes in pumping spurts, soaking his thin pants.

I waste no time in dropping to my knees as Colby clutches his thigh in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. “No woman will ever have to beg you for mercy again,” I whisper as I push my knife into Colby’s larynx, silencing his screams. His failed attempts to breathe and swallow vibrate in my hand. In a moment that feels too short, those struggles fade away, and Colby goes slack around my blade.

When Colby is still, I pull my knife from his throat in a rush of blood, wiping the sharpened steel against his sleeve before I lay it next to me on the ground, recovering my breath. Euphoria washes through my veins with every beat of my heart. Adrenaline. Domination. There’s relief in the afterglow, like a thorn pulled from flesh. But the moment Jack’s arms fold around me, I realize how much better this is with him here. There’s more that I want, and only he can give it to me.

“Lille mejer…” he whispers as he presses his lips along the column of my neck. My breath catches as his palm glides down my jacket, slowing over my breast, my nipples tightening to points against the layers of clothing that suddenly seem too hot. Jack’s hand keeps traveling down until it cups my pussy. I lean against his touch, desperate for friction. For more. “I wonder… If I slid my fingers into your panties, would I find your cunt wet and desperate to be filled?”

A whimper leaves my lips as Jack’s touch withdraws, a sound that turns to one of need when I hear his belt buckle open and his zipper lower. “Why don’t you find out?”

Jack traces my hip and releases my belt and the button of my hiking pants, and then he’s pulling them down with rough and impatient tugs. In another heartbeat, the stud on the head of his cock is pressed to my entrance and he enters me with a single, brutal thrust. “Just as I suspected. Fucking soaked.”

“Only because you were watching,” I whisper as he withdraws to the crown and slams to the hilt, his arm catching around my waist as he pitches me forward onto my hands. My fingers dig into the damp earth and Jack grips the flesh of my hips and thrusts, one pounding hit after the next, every stroke a long glide of his cock so that I feel each rung of the ladder of studs trailing the underside of his erection. The curved bar at the head of his cock ignites every nerve and deep need and dark fantasy. Jack’s fingers circle my clit and tease, pressing and withdrawing to a touch that’s feather-light, drawing out every moan. But it’s his words that truly push me to the edge.

“Look at what you’ve done,” he says as he leans forward to graze his lips against my ear, his powerful body covering mine. The cadence of his strokes is unbroken. “A bear trap around his leg. An arrow in his ass. Blood everywhere. What do you feel about the life you just took?”

“Satisfaction…” I grit out through the rapture of every punishing thrust. “I feel… satisfaction.”

“What else? You’re holding back, Kyrie.”

Jack’s hand wraps around my throat and I swallow. My heart drums against his palm. For the first time, I realize the danger I’m in. Every scrap of evidence I have on Jack is right here in this cabin. There’s half a body in my freezer. I’ve just killed a man. And now all Jack has to do is squeeze, and I would be powerless to stop him from ending everything and walking away.

It’s exhilarating.

My impending release starts unraveling in my core, my deepest muscles tensing, my nerves lighting like exploding stars. “I feel indomitable… Immortal. Like a person who deserves to be feared.”

Jack hums his approval against my ear. His strokes slow to long, smooth glides of his cock. He’s keeping me on the edge of an orgasm that’s ready to burst through every cell of my body. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than your smile when you hauled Colby back from the path. And I’ve never wanted to kill anyone so desperately as when I thought he might hurt you when he fought back. But you are right, lille mejer. You are indomitable. You are both the warmth of the sun and the destruction of its consuming fire,” he says, releasing my throat as he buries his cock as deep into my pussy as he can, until I’m not sure where he ends and I begin. Jack presses to my clit and I moan his name like a prayer. “And it’s my touch that makes you tremble. My mouth on your pussy that makes you beg. My cock buried in your cunt that makes you moan. My cum that will be dripping down your legs. Tell me I’m the only one you want. The only one who can stand in your flame as you burn down the world.”

Jack’s words settle in my chest like falling snow. I feel their crystalline touch as they cool the darkness of my deepest fears.

“It will only ever be you, Jack,” I whisper. “No matter where you go or what you do. You’re the only one I want.”

There’s a moment of stillness. I can hear every rustle of the breeze through the curled leaves that cling to the branches reaching above us. I could count every beat of my cracking heart.

When the moment passes, the rhythm of Jack’s thrusts resumes. It’s a cadence that feels desperate, filled with need, like all the things we can’t say to one another push us to the edge of an abyss. His fingers swirl over my clit, his touch slick with my arousal, his other hand gripping to my shoulder for leverage as he fucks me with brutal strength.

“You shred every ounce of my control,” Jack grits out behind me, easing off on my clit when he feels my channel tighten around the girth of his erection. “I want to fuck you until you’re begging me to stop making you come.”

Unsteady breaths burn in my chest as he thrusts without mercy, just the way I want him to. “I…don’t think…I ever would,” I say, lifting one hand from the earth just long enough to grasp Jack’s forearm in a wordless plea for friction. He presses my clit in sweeping circles and I moan, steadying myself once more as the world seems to spin around me. My pussy tightens around every deep thrust and I come, release washing over me as I cry out Jack’s name.This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Jack slows only for a moment, his touch lightening as he guides me through every second of ecstasy. When I’m ready to collapse in a boneless heap of flesh on the cold ground, the long, rocking strokes resume, a cadence building.

“You don’t think you ever would beg me to stop making you come, hmm?” Jack whispers close to my ear, his voice a dark and seductive weapon all of its own. “Were you issuing a challenge, Dr. Roth? It almost sounded like it…”

Oh my God.

I’m trying to put together some kind of coherent response, but words don’t want to form sentences on my tongue, especially not when Jack’s rough palm glides across my ass cheek in a warm caress.

“I asked you a question, Dr. Roth. But if you’re not going to answer,” he says as his palm leaves my skin, “I’ll happily redden your perfect ass until you do.”

A hard slap smacks my skin and I lurch forward with a yelp that dissolves into a quiet moan. Jack’s hand smooths the burn in my flesh as he glides within me.

“Still no answer?”

I bite my lip, my nails digging into the earth as I shake my head.

Another slap hits my ass and I cry out as my pussy tightens around Jack’s thrusting cock. An ache builds deep in my core. More. I want more. More and more until I can’t even think about begging, until I’m mindless and the only thing that exists is me and Jack. Until the whole world disappears.

Jack leans back, his rhythm steady as he grips my waist with one hand.

“I have been so looking forward to seeing your skin such a pretty shade of red.”

There are more slaps, their sting eased by Jack’s caress, the pain indistinguishable from the pleasure of his deep strokes. Whatever the question was, it’s long forgotten as he fucks me, filling me with his length. My pussy is swollen with aching need, my flesh burning beneath his palm. Jack keeps me on the very edge of coming apart, sometimes breaking from the impact to swirl a gentle touch across my clit before returning to deliver another slap to my ass.

At some point my moans form a single word: please.

For a heartbeat, Jack’s strokes slow as he glides his palm over my stinging skin.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything as sweet as your begging, petal. Do it again.”

I give Jack exactly what he wants.

As a string of pleas tumble from my lips. I beg for him to take me to the edge and push me over. I beg for him to tear me apart. For him to fill me until I’m dripping with his cum.

A feral growl fills the clearing as Jack rails me with punishing strokes. My fingers clutch the clumps of grass. Stars shatter across my vision. My head fills with heartbeats. Jack comes a moment later, his thick and studded length pushed as deep as he can manage, his cock pulsing as he spills into me.

The world is deafened by pressure and heartbeats and ragged breaths. And Jack stays there for a long time as we catch our breath, not slipping away until a sudden chill makes me shudder. When he’s pulled his briefs and pants up, Jack hauls me to my feet.

“I’m a bit of a mess,” I say, looking at the mud and grass stains on my palms, dirt caked beneath my nails.

“I like you this way,” Jack replies as he kneels before me to pull my panties up. He stalls as our cum drips down my inner thighs. His touch is reverential when it slips through the glistening arousal, smearing it across my skin. He takes some onto his finger and pushes it back into my pussy. “I like it a lot.”

“You are filthy, Dr. Sorensen,” I say with a grin.

“And you love it.”

My heart drums heavy beats and I turn my gaze away from Jack as he rights my panties over my ass and hips, then my pants. My thoughts are caught on the cabin, on the box in the basement. My mind is so consumed by the swell of fears I’ve been pushing down into my darkest corners that I don’t notice Jack watching me until he rises to his feet.

“Kyrie…? What is it?”

“Nothing,” I say with a flash of a smile. Jack doesn’t seem convinced by my first attempt, so I try a little harder with a wider smile that lingers. “Nothing, really. I just got a text from Dr. Cannon before you arrived. I was supposed to meet with him this afternoon but he needs to move it to this morning. He said it’s urgent,” I say as I check my watch, my weak grin dissipating. “I won’t have time to go change. If I don’t leave within the next few minutes, I’m not sure I’ll make it in time.”

Jack frowns. “He can’t wait?” When I shake my head and shrug, Jack’s frown deepens. “Text me as soon as you get to your office. I don’t like the thought of Hayes lurking without me around. I can take care of this,” Jack offers, nodding toward the body. A wicked grin shatters the worry that darkened his expression only a moment ago. “There are some souvenirs I’d like to take.”

“That would be great, actually. If you wouldn’t mind packing up my bow and putting it in the basement when you do, I’ll set off the traps.”

Jack nods and I turn away before he can read anything more from my eyes. No words flow between us as we work, Jack cleaning my arrow and knife as I spring the traps hidden around the perimeter of the clearing. When we’re done, we stand facing one another next to Colby’s body, his unseeing eyes pointed to the sky.

“There’s equipment in the basement if you need,” I say, my heart pounding so hard against my sternum that I’m sure it will etch my fears into bone. A crease flickers between Jack’s brows, his gaze dropping to the flush heating my cheeks.

“Are you sure—”

“There’s some other stuff there. In the basement. For you,” I say. Jack’s head tilts, his eyes narrowing. I thrust the tablet in his direction and he takes it with a tentative hand. When he looks up, my waiting smile is lopsided and sly. “It’s not a trap, I promise. I can’t lock you in if you have this.”

Jack’s gaze falls back to the tablet and before he can ask, I close the distance between us, rising on my toes to press my lips to his.

And for once, time slows at the perfect moment.

I feel every breath. I relish every millimeter of skin my touch consumes as I fold one hand across the back of Jack’s neck. I take in the scent of vetiver, warm and comforting. The taste of his lips, the smooth caress of his tongue. The chill in his fingertips as they trace my cheek to thread into my hair. The way his arm folds across my back to hold me close. Like I’m cherished. Like this could be a world where he doesn’t let go.

But he does, and time rights itself, refusing to die.

“Bye, Jack,” I say, letting my touch fall away with the brightest smile I can manage. Jack must be putting pieces together, because he doesn’t give voice to his questions. He doesn’t say anything at all, in fact. He just looks toward the cabin for a long moment before returning his gaze to me.

I take a deep breath.

And then I walk away.

I try not to turn around, but when I reach the mouth of the path, I can’t help it. I stop and look over my shoulder to find Jack watching me, his expression unreadable. He’s just as I would always want to imagine him. Beautiful and fierce. My angel of vengeance, with my cabin lying behind him, all its secrets in the basement, my kill lying at his feet.

“Thank you, Jack,” I say. There’s softness in my smile. In my eyes. I can feel it, just like I can feel the burn of tears climbing my throat.

With a look just long enough to remember forever, I leave Jack behind.

When I’m out of view, I run.

It’s nearly a half mile on the winding, root-laden path back to the small clearing where both our vehicles are parked just off the logging road. My Land Rover eats the gravel road as fast as I dare to push it, and in just a few minutes I’m on the highway, heading back to Westview.

Within twenty minutes, I’m at Jack’s house.

Cornetto follows close on my heels as I head upstairs, trying to keep my body language relaxed even though my guts are twisting tighter with every second that passes. I enter the spare bedroom that has a desk and set up my work laptop, logging into the university VPN. Then I open my personal laptop, and set it next to my work computer where I know my body will function as a barrier to the camera hidden in the corner of the room.

I keep my motions minimal as I hack into Jack’s security system and record myself and the other rooms of the house. Then I set a few work emails up to release at random times over the next few hours before I set my mouse on a mouse jiggler. When everything is set, I take over the camera feed and set my video to play on a loop. It’s not the most perfect alibi, but it will have to do.

I turn to Cornetto, whose tail swishes against the duvet on the guest bed. “Wish me luck, Corndog.”

With a final pat and a kiss on the head, I leave Cornetto to guard the house alone.

I drive on the side streets back to my house, knowing there are no cameras on the route. When I get home, I park in the garage at the back, then head through the yard to the patio doors. The house is silent and still, its details both welcoming and foreign to me now. Where Jack’s house feels monochromatic, mine is bursting with color and pattern. Bright paintings and enlarged photos of wildlife mix with souvenirs I’ve acquired during my summers conducting field research. But somehow, it feels like a museum now. Even a few days of another life have made my days of solitude here seem like a memory.

“Better get reacquainted with it now,” I say to myself.

I stop in front of a photo in my living room. It’s one from a tag and release program I worked on while supporting a professor’s research on lynx behavior. We sedated the cats and fit them with radio collars to map their territories and interactions. The photo is one of me smiling at the camera, my hand resting on the plush fur of a sleeping male. The collar was set to break away after five years. Somewhere, if he’s still alive, that lynx is free of us now, hunting and fighting and living without our watchful gaze.

If I’m successful, the same will be true of Jack. He’ll be able to go wherever he wants without the threat of Hayes or my mountain of evidence keeping him from his plans. And this time, I won’t haunt his tracks.

I check my watch as I run through the next steps. Get the pistol from the gun safe. Text Jack. Send a message to Hayes. 

I’m about to turn for the basement when something hits me in the back.

I drop to the floor, stunned. It feels like wasps are crawling beneath my skin, stinging my brain. My teeth grit together as my body trembles. The pain stops just as suddenly as it started, but I’m too shocked to move.

Even if I could, it’s too late.

A wet rag clamps across my nose and mouth. I try to hold my breath and struggle, but it’s inevitable. One inhale of the sweet scent of citrus and acetone and my mind spins.

“It will be all right, Isobel,” a man’s voice says over the protest of my weak moan.

“Just go to sleep.”