I stared for far too long at that closed door, scrubbing a hand over my jaw. The water was running, and a hint of strawberry-scented steam wafted out around the edges of the door. Clearly she was well enough to get into the shower.

I shook my head, turning for the living room. Devirginised … what did that mean? And what had she meant, directing me to that book specifically.

Was there a meaning? Was she making fun of me?

Or …

But no. I could not allow myself to let my thoughts go down the path that they were trying to sprint along. Because she couldn’t … and I shouldn’t want her to … have those sorts of thoughts about me.

Did that mean I was going to avoid the book?

Absolutely bloody not!

But her shelves were so packed with well-worn paperbacks, all with various filthy titles. I Slipped and Landed Butt First On A Demon’s Horn—what in the home was that supposed to be about? I pulled it off the shelf, finding a graphic image of two males—one human, one a very muscular demon—on the cover.

No, SJ, do not get distracted. You need to understand why she directed you to the erotica about the Devil.

I was scanning the shelves with increasing urgency, unable to find the tome I was looking for, when all the light was doused, and darkness flooded the apartment.

And she screamed.

25. Big and Red and … Glowing?

Chapter 25

Big and Red and … Glowing?

Jemma

Blackness. Utter dark.

I screamed.

Shampoo stung my eyes, but I was too petrified to move, to rinse them.

The memories began resurfacing, and I screamed again. And again. I vaguely realised I was screaming for him.

Had he finally decided to leave? But he’d promised that he would stay until I was in bed. Oh God, why had I been so insistent that I could do this on my own? My legs wobbled, giving way, and I slid down the shower wall, the water pummelling my head, washing away the suds.

He wasn’t coming. He wasn’t coming. He wasn’t …

“Jemma!” His voice was frantic, and the door burst open.

A shaky whimper burst out of me. A cry of relief.

“Are you unwell again? What can I do?”

“Light,” I mumbled, clutching my shaking knees to my chest. “Please, SJ!”

The flicking of the switch. That sound sent terror clawing up my spine, conjuring voices from long ago.

‘Fucking light’s out. She’s probably not in here.’

‘Better check, just to be sure.’

“Damn it … something is wrong with the electricity,” SJ muttered. “Should I go and⁠—”

“Please … make the dark go away, make it go …” I chanted the words, rocking under the spray, clenching my eyes tightly closed, my breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“Please, SJ … make it go.”