“Wait. I need to know. Your group. They kill people every year. Only redheads,” I forced myself to keep going, “how is it that no one has caught on? Was that house up north the only place it’s happened?”
My question hung in the air as silence filled the room. I fully expected him to ignore it and just leave. But then he answered.
“It’s not every year. There is only a sacrifice for each family. And that’s once a man in the family gets old enough to start bearing children. It wasn’t a lot in the beginning. But once it spread through Greece, through Europe, and now even here in North America, there are a lot more. Sometimes we go two or three years between them. And no, that wasn’t the only house. There are more where the ceremonies are held. It’s a belief. You read the book, Sage. It’s been happening for centuries.”
He stopped, and I stayed quiet, curious to see what else he’d say.
“We are all families with normal lives. Normal jobs. I keep telling you we have eyes everywhere. It’s people doing their jobs. A police officer. A bank manager. It’s an endless list. We get together to help with the ritual once a year if it’s needed. And to help out with situations. They’re all looking for you. You need to stay under the radar like you’ve been.”
My heart was beating erratically, and every time I tried taking a deep breath, my chest got tight. Hearing him explain everything was sending me into a spiraling panic that I couldn’t escape from. My vision went blurry, and I was suddenly back in that basement, watching the knife go into my sister’s heart. My hands clenched into fists as I rocked back and forth on the couch.
“Sage. What’s wrong?” Niko’s voice sounded far away, and I turned, trying to focus on him, but couldn’t. My hands flew to my chest as a searing pain shot through it. A crippling weight hit, and I gasped for air, unable to take a breath. During this entire time, flashes of what happened up north filled my mind. And thoughts about how I was going to end up the same way. A piercing noise echoed in my ears, and it took me a moment to figure out it was me who was screaming. Or trying to.
A light touch landed on my arm, and I jolted away. I locked eyes with Niko, who was sitting on the couch next to me. Panic filled his gaze as he looked from me to the door. I threw myself to the other side of the couch.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I forced out in nearly a whisper. “You did this. Your cult. My life—and everyone I loved—is gone because of you.”
“You’re having a panic attack.” He reached over and grabbed me around the waist. “You need to calm down.”
Is that what this was? I frantically tried to suck air into my lungs as I attempted to push him away when he pulled me closer.
“Your hands on me will not calm me down,” I hissed, trying to force myself to make it all go away. But my body wasn’t responding.
“Talk to me. What do you hear?” he asked, his voice soft.
“Let me go,” I cried out, the pain in my chest tightening as I flailed my body, trying to get away from him.
His grip tightened, and he lifted me up and set me on his lap with my legs straddling one of his thighs. He trapped my wrists in one hand, and then reached up and grabbed my chin with the other. He tilted my face until I was staring straight at him.
“I’m helping you,” he murmured gruffly, his jaw clenched with tension. “Forget that I’m here. Focus on one thing. What do you hear?”
My body rocked as he spoke. I couldn’t sit still no matter how hard I tried. Bits and pieces of memories were still fogging up my brain, and tears rolled down my cheeks. His fingers tightened on my chin.
“Get out of your head,” he ordered, his voice softening. “You hear my voice. You’re not wherever your thoughts are. You’re here. In your apartment. What else do you hear?”
His words cut through my racing thoughts, and I squeezed my eyes shut. He kept talking quietly, and another noise joined his voice. The TV was on, and I could hear a child laughing. Cars bustled down the street, and the quiet hum of engines came in through the open window. The pictures in my head grew dimmer as real-life noises surrounded me.
“Now tell me what you see.” His fingers disappeared from my face. “Open your eyes, Sage.”
My body was still rocking back and forth, and when I opened my eyes, I found myself staring at him. He was frowning, but concern was etched on his features as his eyes bored into mine. My chest heaved as my anger climbed, remembering I was still sitting on his lap.
He took a deep breath, realizing what had happened. “Don’t focus on me.”
“Please,” I breathed out, my heart pounding out of control again. “Just leave.”
“What do you feel?” he asked, obviously not having any intention of doing what I asked.
“Hate. I feel hate. For you.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, looking unsure. “Physically. What is touching your skin right now?”
I wriggled my wrists against his grip, feeling the warmth from his hold. My panic increased and so did my struggles.
“Do you feel the wind from the window?” he asked. “The cool air hitting your skin?”
Closing my eyes again, I tried breathing through my nose, finally understanding what he was doing. Helping me use my senses to pull me from my head. And I had a feeling he wasn’t going to let me go until I calmed down. The breeze blew over my skin, and I focused on the sounds from around me. The pain in my chest eased a fraction, and the fear I was trapped in slowly began fading away as I concentrated on what I was listening to. And what I could feel.
“What else can you feel, Sage?” His voice was tense, as if he was trying to stay in control. But I refused to open my eyes, knowing I would spiral again.
A hot rush shot through my lower stomach, and I went rigid, realizing what I was responding to. I was still straddling his leg. In a dress. Where I’d been rocking back and forth for who knew how long. A feeling I hadn’t felt in months was burning through me, and as much as I wanted to stop, I couldn’t. The hot feeling was the only thing keeping me grounded.
My thin pair of panties did little to stop the friction between his jeans and my clit. I didn’t dare open my eyes, because then this would be real. I couldn’t look at him. I shouldn’t be doing this. It was wrong. Fucked up. I hated him with everything I had. But I was more terrified to sink back into the nightmares that had been consuming me.
My breathing became heavier, and I relished having air in my lungs again. My moves became faster, and instead of rocking against him, I was grinding, feeling something other than misery for the first time in what felt like forever. Waves of pleasure rolled through me as I sped up. His hand released my wrists, and my palms fell onto his chest.
My muscles tightened, and my knees dug into the couch as my ecstasy got closer to the edge. I faltered when my palms drifted over his shirt, and I felt something hard. I pinched it with my fingers, realizing what it was. His chain necklace. Where he wore his ring. What was I doing? He was with them. He was a part of it all.
I forced my eyes open as I went still. He was staring at me, his shoulders tense as both of his arms were spread across the top of the couch. The second I stopped moving, panic was waiting to take its place.
“Keep going,” he grated out. “It’s helping you.”
“No. What the fuck am I doing?” I muttered under my breath as my chest constricted again.
“You’re going to finish,” Niko demanded, making my face flush. “Because it’s the only thing calming you down.”
“I’m fine—”