Insanity (Asylum 1)

I widen my legs and Damien hovers on top of me, his fingers curling around my narrow shoulder blades, his thumbs rubbing back and forth against my flesh. “Addy?” There’s a husky tone to his voice and as I lock eyes with him, I swear I can see the depths of his soul.

“Yes?”

“I want you to know something.”

“Okay.”

He lowers his head, placing a soft kiss on my lips. “I just want you to know that you are my sun, my moon, and my stars. My heaven, my hell, and my earth. I’d do anything for you. I’d go anywhere for you. If you ever left me, I’d follow you.”

“You’ll never have to follow me because I’ll never leave you.”

The love for him burns inside of me like a roman candle. The flame is vibrant, smoldering, and the smoke unfurling from the tip is suffocating. And even though I feel like I can’t breathe, if this is the way Damien makes me feel, I hope I never breathe again.

With a gentle thrust of his hips he enters me. I choke on a gasp and whimper as Damien’s hips sway back and forth, pressing between my legs, softly, rhythmically. He tangles his fingers in my hair and breathes heavily in the curve of my neck. His warm breath floods over my skin in currents and I let out a moan that I’ve been holding in my throat. Damien grunts and the tip of his tongue sticks out between his lips, a determined look is on his face. I glide the tips of my fingers across his muscled back, feeling the muscles clench and release with each thrust. When he begins thrusting harder, I arch my back, letting out soft groans and lift my hips to meet each pleasureful grind of his hips against mine.

Picking up my head, I place my lips against his and allow his roaming tongue to invade my mouth. My nails bite into his skin. I’m gone. So far gone. Riding on a wave of passion. Swimming in a sea of delight. Sparks of fire hiss inside of me. Flames lick the area between my legs. Damien moans, “You’re mine,” into my mouth. I answer him with a gentle flick of my tongue.

It’s true. I am his.

Forever.

Always.

Because no other man will ever have this part of me.

Chapter 20

~AFTER~

Words can’t accurately describe the amount of pain that plummets through my hand before charging up my arm.

I let out a silent scream and choke on air. Afraid to move my fingertips, I lie still against the floor and scrape my teeth against the tile. Marjorie is in front of me and her heavy breathing fills my ears. Then she stutters, “Was that…Was that necessary, Dr. Morrow?”

I can’t look at Dr. Morrow, but I hear him crack his neck and I imagine what it would be like to grip it and twist until it snaps. He clears his throat and says with a stern tone to his voice. “I wanted to break her.” There’s a moment of silence then he says to Marjorie, “I’m going to get more of that sedative. Keep her still.” Squeaks unfurl beneath his feet and echo down the hall as he walks away from me and turns a corner.

His words throb in my head like the pain in my hand. I wanted to break her.

I get what he meant by that. He didn’t just want to break my bones. He wanted to break my spirit. He wanted to teach me a lesson. He wanted to make sure that I got it through my head that he’s in charge and that he’ll never let me escape.

Another voice is added to the equation. “What is going on?”

Dr. Watson.

His footsteps plod onto the floor and I see his brown loafers an inch away from my face. I want to look into his eyes, but I can’t. The pain is swallowing me like a boa constrictor. It’s devouring every bit of my body inch by inch, one small section at a time. My chin is against the floor, but my hair is in my face and I can’t see Dr. Watson clearly. I try to blow the hair from my face with a soft breath, but it goes nowhere.

“Tell me Marjorie!” he snaps, his voice laced with a blossoming rage. “What happened?”

While Marjorie explains everything I steal a glimpse at my fingers that don’t look like fingers at all anymore. They’re bent up, crooked, and remind me of dead tree branches. Dr. Watson’s loafers are in my face again and now he’s crouched down in front of me. A mixture of worry and rage, swirl around in his radiant honey eyes. “Oh Adelaide.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard so much emotion in his hard voice. “Are you all right?”

I swallow hard, shake my head and wince. I try to wiggle my pinky finger, but a pain so intense stabs my hand so I decide that I don’t care if I ever have use of that hand again. I’ll keep it still forever just as long as I don’t have to feel pain like that ever again.

Dr. Watson brushes my hair away from my face and when his flesh connects with mine, for some reason a wave of calm rushes through me. I meet his gaze and his eyes sear into mine with a gaze so overwhelming and so intensely beautiful that it nearly knocks the wind out of my lungs. He inserts his hands under my arms and helps me up, positioning me against the wall. I would have tried to get up myself, except I’m not sure how much force I’d be able to use with one hand.

“Her roommate told me that she’s been refusing her morning medication. I don’t know if she repeats the process of pretending to take her medication the other two times a day she has to take them, but I know she hasn’t been swallowing them in the morning.”

Dr. Watson’s soft gaze hardens to and accusing glare. “Is this true, Adelaide?”

As if it’s an act of defiance, I