It’s impossible. It’s not like he was quickly putting contact lenses in and out of his eyes.
But there was that moment when he closed his eyes. It was like he knew something was wrong. He had to hold himself back.
Heknewhis eyes were changing color.
I flip over the notepad again, staring down at the declaration.
I’m not crazy; people can’t change their eye color spontaneously.
Which means Ramsey’s eyes didn’t change.
They were the same pale blue. I wasn’t seeing things the way they were, just what I wanted to see.
I don’t have to think about it or address anything. I don’t have to drive myself crazy wondering what happened.
Nothinghappened. That’s the whole point. I was just tired and stressed.
I look up when a customer approaches. With a smile on my face, I help them and then glance again at the notepad.
Quickly flipping it over, I decide the best tactic is to not think about it anymore. I can’t keep going over and over what I saw or thought I saw. Not when I’ve got to take care of Mom.
The simple fact is I can’taffordto go crazy.
There was no wolf.
There was no weird change of Ramsey’s eye color.
There was noanything, no delusions, and that’s it.
Even if a voice whispers to me that it was a lie, or something magical is happening, or my mind is cracking, it is a better explanation than actually being true.
Then, when I look up, Ramsey is standing there.
My breath catches.
I curse myself, warning myself not to let him see the effect he has on me. He’s wearing a tight-fitting gym T-shirt and shorts, showing off his muscular arms and strong body. His steel hair is flecked with sweat, and his arms glisten.
“Did you run here?” I ask, wincing when I hear my voice catch at the end.
It’s the same way my voice would falter when speaking directly with Master Pete, but for completely different reasons. With Pete, it was knowing the power he held over all of us in his messed-up cult.
With Ramsey, it’s....
My thoughts come to a shuddering stop when he answers, walking casually toward me, nodding. “Yeah, I did.”
He stops near the desk, letting me smell him.
His sweat, his...musk, I guess you’d call it.
Something in it calls to me, fills my heart with warm light, and makes my body tingle. My panties rub against my sex, a combination of want and heat I’ve never felt before.
This isn’t surprising, though, since I’ve spent my whole life locked away. The only men I interacted with were the cultists, who were all creepy; they all made my belly cramp.
Ramsey makes my belly cramp too. In lust. In anticipation of the future.
Stop it. There’s no future together.
He’s still looking at me, his scent seeming to get muskier, manly. It washes around me.