Page 63 of Depraved

But the time had come. The time was now…whether she was ready or not.

CHAPTER TWENTY

ALYX

It had to have been a dream. It wasn’t real; I could feel it in my gut. This was one of those dreams where you knew you were dreaming while in the dream.

Granite was standing outside my house, his motorcycle parked behind him. And he was staring up at me, smiling, waving his arms, asking me to come down. It was daytime, the sun at its highest. That alone convinced me this wasn’t real. Granite only came out at night when the moon was high.

Two men were standing behind him, but I couldn’t see their faces. But Granite’s face, it was light, glowing, his eyes filled with excitement. That was my second clue to knowing this wasn’t real. Granite’s face was hardly ever anything but cold, hard stone.

I was leaning against the window frame, and I could feel my heart race, a thousand butterflies fluttering in my belly. It might not have been real, but I was feeling all the feels. My skin tingled, my body surging with energy, and I wanted to run to him. I wanted to go to him and let him wrap his arms around me. It wasn’t something I could fight, and here, in this dream, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to fight these feelings for him, not like when he held me captive in a room, tied to chair. Here I was free to want him, to desire him, to be obsessed with him.

Excited and eager to get to him, I stormed out of my room, running down the stairs. My mom was waiting for me by the door, and I prepared myself for an argument. As I approached her, mentally ready to fight for what I wanted—the man waiting for me outside—I stopped when I noticed her lips were sewn shut with white thread. Her blue eyes were wild, panicked, and she made the most horrifying noises trying to open her mouth. Scared and bewildered, I backtracked one step at a time, the sight of her mutilated mouth making me sick to my stomach. There were so many nights, so many fights during which I’d wish she could just shut up. Times when the sound of her voice sent shudders through my body, her words breaking my heart over and over and over again. There were times she’d make me cry, and I would think that mommies weren’t supposed to make their children cry. They were supposed to comfort them when they cried, something my mom did the exact opposite of.

Here she was, lips sewn shut, her eyes scared and teary. She was me. In this dream, she had become me. My mouth was always closed, and I never retaliated. Never told her how I really felt. And my eyes had cried so many tears over her—some because of the hurt she caused me, some because of the fear she evoked.

Slowly, I moved back more, never taking my eyes off her face. The longer I looked at her, the less her grotesque appearance bothered me. All I cared about was him.

“I’m sorry, Mother.” With those words, I rushed past her and out the door. The bright sunlight stung my eyes, but I knew exactly where he was standing, and I ran straight to him. My feet couldn’t carry me fast enough, my skin already hungry for his touch. When I came within a few feet from him, I stopped, wanting a moment to look at him. To just…look at him. Granite truly was magnificent. Tall, strong, powerful. It was easy to see why women would flock to him, be drawn to the mystique that surrounded his persona. His silent confidence complimented by his broad shoulders made you aware how big and robust he really was. Authority. Aggression. Dominance. It oozed out of him, and it was impossible to ignore.

But there was something else about him. Something that managed to wrap around me like a veil…protecting me. Yes. That was what it was. Like a shield, a guardianship that he owned when it came to me. To everyone close to him. That was what Neon was trying tell me. Granite protected his family. He was their guardian, and beneath every hard layer of hostility, viciousness, and anger was a man who…cared. It was clear now that I took the time to just look at him.

It was weird. I knew this was a dream, yet it felt so real. Like all this was really happening, I was figuring him out, fitting together all the puzzle pieces so I could see the picture of the man he truly was.

He held out his arms, and I slowly approached him. This was the moment I had been waiting for, for so long. The moment my stranger in the dark would finally wrap his arms around me and whisk me away. My heartbeat was loud, my pulse racing. Everything inside me coiled tight, anticipation flickering in my gut along with the thousands of butterflies.

When I came within reach, he wrapped his arms around me—strong, big, long arms completely enveloping me as he pressed my body firmly against his. I inhaled, wanting to smell his familiar earthy scent of sandalwood. And his heat was comforting, soothing, calming me, so it felt like I was drifting in his arms. All these years, I dreamed of this moment, and it felt a thousand times better than I ever could have imagined.

I nuzzled my face deeper into his chest. “You came for me.”

“Of course, I did. You asked me to.”

My heart stopped, and I didn’t move. “What did you say?”

Fingers gently weaved through the hair at the back of my neck. “I said, of course I came for you. You asked me to.”

I looked up at him, confused. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. In fact, you asked me many times.”

Perplexed, I stepped back, but his hands were still on my elbows. “I didn’t ask you to come for me.”

“You did. Don’t you remember?” The emotion on his face didn’t change. It was still the picture of bliss and contentment. Happiness. “You asked me every night, when you stood by your window. You asked me to come get you. To take you and free you.”

I shook my head. This was the part of the dream where everything changed. Where everything went from good to bad.

“I didn’t ask you to take me, Granite.”

“But you did.” He stepped forward, but I retreated farther. “Alyxandria, what’s wrong?”

“I didn’t ask you.” I shook my head, my gaze falling to the well-manicured lawn. “I didn’t ask you.”

“You did. You asked me to take you.”

“No. No, I didn’t.”

It was starting to hurt, the confusion and turmoil of reality slowly beginning to eat away the dream. It was hurting me. It was clawing at my soul and tearing off my skin. I felt it. The pain started at my wrists, growing stronger, tighter. And then my feet.