Touch (Touched by the Fae 3)

Unfortunately, he’s not.

Crazy bastard doesn’t let up. After his last session, he decides to have another sit-down with me. I know it’s bad when he pulls the chair back, a closed manila folder resting on his lap.

How much do I want to bet that that’s my file?

He tries another approach. Now that we both know there’s no hiding the truth about the fae, he asks me about my relationships with the two in my file. It’s like I’ve been thrown back to the first day I met him, when Amy announced that the new psychologist wanted to meet with some of our group—before telling us all that I was chosen to be the first one to go down to his office.

In hindsight, I probably should’ve been more suspicious about that than I was.

Despite his poking and prying, I don’t tell him about Nine. I already regret everything I told him back when I innocently thought he was trying to help me process my issues regarding the fae. With Gillespie putting it out there that he wants to knock me up—cue intense shuddering because ew, no—I keep Nine close to my chest.

Tough luck, doc. I’ve already got a soul mate.

And he’s waiting for me to save him.

Now, if only I can find a way to save myself first...

“Rise and shine, Riley.”

His smarmy voice grates on my nerves like fingernails down a chalkboard.

It’s another morning. Unlike the night before, I barely slept a wink last night. My shitty situation has finally seemed to hit home. My anxiety kept me up while I obsessed over what I could do to get out of here.

The tips of my leather gloves are blackened. I pushed up against the barrier more times than I’m proud to admit because it was all I could do. Memories of Madelaine and Rys’s Faerie fire beat at my brain the entire time I tried it, too, which made it a million times worse.

Still, I tried.

By the time he comes to visit me this morning, I’m torn between snapping and just rolling over and pretending that he’s not there.

He wants attention. I don’t want to give him any, especially when the bastard teases me with breakfast.

It’s been almost two full days. My stomach aches from hunger, though I think I’m turning a corner on that. I drank a couple of handfuls of water from the tap when my mouth was too dry to take it any longer, but the fruit is still sitting on its plate, taunting me.

He brought me a sealed granola bar. I want it so bad, I’m willing to do almost anything for it… until he tells me I have to eat at least one grape from that other plate first. His eagerness as he waves the bar in front of me all but proves my suspicion.

He’s done something to the fruit. I’d put money on it.

Come tomorrow, I might be desperate enough to try it. The hunger comes in waves, my anxiety pushing it aside. Right now I’m pissed off enough to refuse his offer.

He can take that bar and shove it up his ass for all I care. I only have one thing I’m worried about.

“How much longer are you going to keep me locked up in your office?”

Gillespie lowers the hand holding the bar out, his face pinching in annoyance. “Don’t be like that. I know you don’t like being stuck in here.”

“Wow. Really? How did you guess?”

He ignores that. “I never meant for it to be forever. In fact, I was going to surprise you later, but we’ll actually be leaving after my last patient this evening.”

Huh?

We?

“Leaving? What do you mean? Leaving where?”

“It’s simple. You’re right. I can’t keep you here forever. You’re stubborn, but I already knew that from your file. If I let you, you’d starve to death and that can’t happen. So I’m taking you with me. Maybe, once you stop entertaining these ideas that I’m going to let you go, you’ll see how much better your life will be once we’re sharing it.”

He’s absolutely right. I’d rather die. Of course, that’s not something I tell the crazy bastard because, well, he is absolutely nuts.