“Is something the matter, dear?” the nurse asks with a kind expression.

“H-help me. He’s going to hurt me.”

Asher’s grip on my hand turns painful, but even if the nurse looked down at our joined fingers, she’d only see his thumb moving over the back of mine as if caressing it.

When he speaks, it’s in pure concern. “Is it your assailant? Do you remember him, Rei?”

“No, that’s not it. I mean—”

“The police are outside, but Dr. Anderson advised against talking to them until you get further rest.” The nurse glances from me to Asher. “I can call them in.”

“It’s better if she rests first. I’m sure you understand with how much she’s been through.” He offers a million-dollar smile that might or might not end up being a serial killer’s charming grin while he picks up his victims.

Even as I fight to get out from under his hold, I can’t deny how fatally attractive he is.

Is it…lust?

That’s the only reason I would be engaged to someone like him.

Well, shit. That’s even worse than losing my memories. Please tell me I’m not vain enough to glue myself to such an asshole just because of lust.

“You’re right.” The nurse falls into his scheme so easily, so readily. It would be ironic if I weren’t melting on the inside.

How can she not see his deception? His blatant lies?

She pats my hand on her way out. “The meds will take effect soon.”

“N-no—” My words are cut off when he muffles my mouth with his hand.

The door hisses open then closed after the nurse. I mumble, feeling my breath being cut off more with every second.

My lungs burn and my eyes well with tears at the lack of air.

I can’t breathe.

Shit. I can’t breathe.

My nails dig into his arm even with the crippling pain at my shoulder. Instead of letting me go, he watches my struggle with a curious glint, as if he wants to watch how I die. How I spit my last breath.

He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?

I came back to life just to die all over again.

My self-preservation instinct kicks in. I can’t die. My nails dig into his hard skin with all the energy I have, scratching and clawing.

He doesn’t budge.

If anything, his smirk widens, as if this is a circus and I’m his favorite act.

When I think I’m about to die, he removes his hand with ease. I suck in sharp breaths, choking on air.

Something soulless and dark creeps into his eyes, turning them almost black. “You think you can fight me?”

He strokes my hair behind my ear. The gesture is so gentle my breath catches. The way he flips between softness and cruelty is giving me whiplash.

All this is an act. Those dark eyes aren’t capable of kindness. It’s either a show or some fucked-up reverse psychology.

“You think anyone can save you from me?” He laughs, the sound hollow and deranged. “You’re mine to screw and destroy, my ugly monster. It’s time to get used to that.”

I open my mouth to protest.

He shoves his finger against my lips, cutting off my words. “Shut it. You don’t get to talk. You only get to listen.”

The pulse in his forefinger beats against my mouth—constant, calm, and…cold.

Is it even possible for a pulse to feel this cold?

My lips are dry and sore, so I don’t attempt to bite him like my brain is telling me to. If I clamp my teeth around his finger, he might seek revenge in a more brutal way.

My body is already too weak, bursts of pain starting at my nape and shoulders and extending to my limbs. I just need him gone until I’m strong enough to face him.

What’s the best way to push him away without force?

Think. Think.

I meet his somber eyes and the harsh gleam shining in that green. It’s such a shame an asshole like him has such a beautiful color.

I could forget my dignity and go with the pleading route, but I doubt it’d work on him.

There’s so much unhinged hatred radiating off him.

So much…destruction.

I choose an entirely different route.

Darting my tongue out, I feel around his finger, licking the skin slowly.

Surprise registers in his eyes before his lids quickly lower halfway.

Yes. He can hide it all he likes, but I surprised him. People are easier to handle when they’re taken off guard.

Especially demons like Asher. He seems to be the type who has everything under control, and I bet on that when I started licking his skin.

I meet his punishing gaze with my defiant one.

You won’t get to me. Not now. Not ever.

His upper lip twitches as if he heard my internal challenge and accepted it.

He thrusts his finger inside my mouth, coiling it against my tongue. I gasp, but the sound is muted by his forceful shove.

His shoulders broaden even more and he appears like the Grim Reaper out to harvest lives—starting with mine.

My teeth graze his skin, and I pause, contemplating my next move.

“Bite and I’ll hurt you back,” he says, as if hearing my thoughts.

I glare up at him but continue.

The harder he glides his finger against my tongue, the faster I lick, lapping against his single digit.

The more diligent I become, the more furious his eyes turn. No idea if it’s rage or lust or both.

A flash of heat coils down my spine the more I suck him, but I don’t stop. If I keep that look in his eyes, he’ll leave me in peace.

My mouth opens farther as I take more of his forefinger inside. I don’t even know what I’m doing, but I feel something seeping out of him and rushing to me.

A sense of power.

A shift in dynamics.

His mask is slipping and a demented gleam shines in his eyes.

I can keep on disarming him, and soon, he won’t only leave me be, he might as well disappear from my life and—

He pulls his finger back as suddenly as he shoved it inside, and I release it with a pop.

His face returns to the calm façade, the impenetrable façade.

My breathing comes out harsh and irregular as I try to regain control over my senses.

Exhaustion rears on my nerve endings and my lids slowly flutter closed. Must be the meds. Good—something to take away the pain.

The bed shifts as Asher stands up, staring down at me with malice and…something else.

Maybe it’s that something else, or maybe it’s the fact I have no one here except for him. I just don’t want to be alone.

The company of a monster is better than no company.

In the haziness of sleep, I murmur, “Don’t…leave.”

“You owe me. I’m not leaving anymore.”

When I wake up the next day, a small part of me hopes whatever happened yesterday was a nasty nightmare.

I’m not in the hospital. I didn’t lose my memories. I don’t have a fiancé who calls me a monster.

The white walls surrounding me and the scent of bleach negate the first option.

My heartbeat picks up when I search my surroundings for those sinister, terrifying eyes. My entire body kicks into gear, tightening and shuddering for a fight.

He’s not here.

I release a breath. Maybe that part was indeed a nightmare.