Chapter 8

CLAIRE

I've been pacing around my room for the past twenty minutes. I'm losing my mind. My sanity.

There's an endless loop in my head: Levi, Cassie, my mother, the past, and the thought of Zeke is making it a whole lot worse.

I want to scream, to shatter the glass, but mostly, I want to cry hard enough to shed this thousand-pound weight resting on my lungs.

Relax? The only way to relax is to stop dwelling on memories. I’m desperately trying to think of anything—a drink, a pill, a distraction—if possible, I need something to make me forget.

Maybe this is it. The perfect time to get amnesia. Wipe the slate clean.

No Levi, no Cassie, no mother. No Zeke. I could walk out of here, step into the sun, and genuinely be free. Start over. Live in peace.

Right? God, I wish it were that simple.

I just need to do something.

~~~~~~~

THREE MINUTES LATER

I find myself at the enormous double doors of 1402.

I haven't knocked yet. I’m standing so close I can hear the absolute silence on the other side. No TV, no music, no movement.

My heart is thumping fast. This is a bad idea; I can feel it in my bones. But if this idea can grant me peace for a few hours, I'm in. And I'll manage; I can worry about the consequences later.

I raise my hand, and before I can knock, the door swings open.

Oh, so he was watching me from the peephole—great. I willingly fell into a trap.

Zeke Harrington, wearing a simple white t-shirt and dark trousers, looks relaxed, like he was just reading a book. But his eyes—those familiar, penetrating dark eyes—hold no surprise, only a dangerous kind of satisfaction.

I force a smile. “Hey—”

“Come in,” he says and walks back inside. I catch the expression on his face. It's plain. I thought he would be excited to see me.

Inside, I notice his suite is even larger than mine, colder. He moves toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the vast ocean, giving me his back.

"I didn't knock," I manage to say, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears.

“You didn't have to."

"Okay…” I drawl, feeling the tension, the awkwardness. I don't want this to go on. “I'm here because I'm looking for a distraction,” I tell him, abandoning any pretense. The words come out hard and fast.

He turns sharply, frowning.

“You think I'm a toy, Claire?"

I scoff. “Dude, I don't even know you…"

His frown deepens.

Shit. He's offended. Maybe that didn't come out right.

“Um… I meant that I wanted…" I pause, suddenly feeling stupid. Why did I come here, anyway? “You know what? Forget it. I'll just see myself out…"

I start to pivot, my heart sinking with humiliation. I've been rejected by the one person I came here to use. I take one step toward the door, desperate to reclaim my dignity.

But Zeke is faster.

One fluid step is enough to cut off my path to the door. He doesn't touch me, but the sheer force of his presence makes the air thick and impossible to breathe.

“You came all this way,” he says. “You shouldn't leave without at least telling me the details. What kind of distraction do you need…how you want it, in what form—”

I turn around fast, crashing my lips against his.

I know it's reckless, desperate, stupid. It makes me look like a horny bitch, but I don't care. I don't care if it's a mistake. I’ll take the consequences. And for the first time in twenty-four hours, the deafening loop in my head—Levi, Cassie, the amnesia—is silent.

Zeke doesn't hesitate. There is no surprise in his eyes when he finally catches my gaze, just a chilling satisfaction. His hands immediately move, one cupping the back of my head to anchor me, the other gripping my waist with a possessive force that steals the air from my lungs.

He takes over the kiss instantly, shifting my desperate, sloppy demand into a deep, consuming claim that leaves no room for thought, only sensation.

A strange sensation I've never felt before. It's like I should melt and let him take over for the rest of whatever is going to happen. Which is new. I'm usually the dominator in any relationship. With Levi, I take the lead; he follows. I control. I make the rules, but now… it seems there's this part inside me that's craving submission and is finally being acknowledged.

He presses me against the door with enough calculated force to remind me that he owns this space, this interaction, and perhaps every single move I'm about to make.

It's terrifying and overwhelmingly exciting.

I pull away, breathing hard. He for sure is not as overwhelmed as I am.

“Um... can we take this… slow?”

He smirks. “But you've never liked it slow.”

“What?” I grimace. “Hey, I told you. I don't know you, okay? Maybe it's my past life, and we're reincarnated or something.”

“Bloody hell, you're still reading fantasy books,” he says, chuckling.

Oh my God, how did he know that?

“Wait… wait, wait… ” I say, pushing forcefully against his chest to create space. How could he know my most mundane, private habit?

“What do you know about my books? What do you know about the last five years of my life? You don’t get to touch me again until you're not telling me everything. Start talking.”

“You finally wanna know?” His eyes narrow. “Maybe this… will jog your memories.”

He sweeps me off my feet, his arm hooked around my butt and the other braced beneath my neck.

“Z-Zeke, d-drop me!” I almost scream. “You're strong, and I can see you're ripped behind that shirt… but how is this helping my memory?”

Zeke refuses to talk, and my next complaint dies in my throat as he crushes his mouth against mine, carrying me backward and kicking the door with a heavy thud. He doesn't take me toward the bedroom; he takes me straight to the cold glass of the ocean-view window.

Okay, this is getting wild.

His name is muffled by his mouth as he ravishes me, our tongues tangling as his hands squeeze my ass.

He breaks the kiss. “You're remembering?”

“Come on, how am I supposed to—Oh God… keep doing that.”

He's raining kisses on my neck, traveling towards my chest, my cleavage, sending my nerves standing on edge. I wrap my legs around his waist, seeking more. The sensation is a wildfire… until he stops, eyes on me.

“You remember anything? A flash?”

I blink. “Can we not stop, please? Keep doing what you're doing, and I might remember.”

I fake a smile, gripping his neck to press his face into my chest, but he stops me midway, catching my wrist. His voice drops cold, eyes blazing.

“You're not taking me seriously, Claire.”