CHAPTER 22. THE UNNATURAL CRAVING
ELODIE'S POV
He steps closer again, his voice a low, insistent rumble. "Elodie, are you okay? You’re shaking."
The world is a kaleidoscope of fear and unreality. I cannot speak; I cannot even force a sound past the obstruction in my throat. My vision blurs, the lines of the room softening and then hardening again, but the frantic, terrifying spinning does not stop. Every terrible truth I have tried to deny crashes down on me with the force of a collapsing dam—the confusion, the immense, debilitating shame, the simple, impossible truth of him.
Who is he? The question is a raw, screaming knot in my mind, separate from the man whose physical form stands before me.
What was that? The experience, the pleasure, the degradation—it is a psychic wound that ref
