TWENTY-SEVEN
After her shower, Tulsi climbed into bed. Sleep didn’t come quickly, though at some point she must have drifted off. Sleep was an excellent way to process thoughts and pass time.
Unfortunately for her, it didn’t last. Something dark encroached on her slumber. The sensation of metal around her wrists and the metallic snap of a key turning cut through the shadow of her dream. The heat of someone’s breath warmed her cheek. Somehow, she knew straight away it wasn’t Wreck. Her body tensed until it ached. Nausea hit hard and began to quake in her belly when the impression of someone’s fingertips ascended her forearm.
Tulsi wanted to scream, she wanted to fight. But she couldn’t move. She was paralyzed. Fear kept her still. She was too afraid to twitch.
“Nymph.”
The whisper of h
