Forbidden Sensations: A Dark Romance by Savannah Rose (best ereader for pdf and epub .TXT) 📗

“The perfect place,” she said, nodding and looking up at the gray clouds. “To think about what you did.”

“I don't know what I did!” I screamed as another bolt lit the horizon. “I don't know what you're talking about, alright!? Don't you god damn get it? I, don't, know!”

She should have been a serial killer, what with that look on her face. Evil satisfaction, that's what I saw. She hated me. We’d never met, or maybe we had, but the effect wasn’t lasting enough on me, so it shouldn’t have been lasting enough on her, either. But, here she was, acting like I’d killed her first born. Wanting to kill me, wanting to see me suffer. If I’d fucked her and rushed out of bed before she could flutter a lid open in the morning, if that’s why she was mad, it made me wonder how many guys she’d already gone through. Was she just some deranged serial killer running around offing the men who didn’t have the courtesy of calling her the morning after. Except, I was sure I hadn’t fucked her. I would have remembered those tits, dammit!

Another strike. Thunder right on top of it. The wind was howling, the rain pelting me like little BBs against my bare skin, and the cuffs pinched my skin as I struggled against them.

“Becca.”

I stopped moving. It was hard to hear her against the wind. “W-what?”

“My sister,” she said, and it looked like it hurt to say it. She blinked back what I thought were tears, and swallowed, then spoke through her teeth again. “You killed her daughter, and then you killed her.”

There was nothing. Nothing in my memory. I didn't remember a daughter, or someone named Becca.

I shook my head vehemently. “You've made a mistake. You have me confused with someone else, Ramona. Someone else, maybe, who looks like me, alright? I–”

Thunder roared, cutting off my lame excuses. Rain assaulted the pond, the banks, the canopied trees in silver sheets.

Lightning cracked, twice, getting closer to where me and my metal cuffs were hanging like a desperate target.

“I wish I could tell you different, Ramona. I do. I swear to God I do, but please,” I tried shoving the cuffs toward the front of the branch, where I could at least drop to the water, run for the shore and maybe bury my hands in the sand. Hide myself from the lightning. But I was still stuck. Still snagged. Nowhere to go, nowhere to run to.

Ramona, on the other hand, had things to do and places to be. She gathered herself together, and began to leave.

“Sof– Ramona! Ramona, come on!”

She twisted her hair into a makeshift ponytail as she made her way toward the brush. Her long, beautiful locks were like a rope, a rope she held in front of her, as she turned to look at me for the last time.

“Ramona, please. I'm sorry for your sister, I'm sorry for her daughter, but it wasn't me. I didn't kill anyone, I–”

She disappeared into the flora. Leaving me to my own devices, of which I had none.

“You can't do this! Ramona!”

Nothing. Nothing but Mother Nature reminding me exactly how insignificant a being I was. To prove her point, she threw down another bolt. Jesus Christ, it was blinding. The closest one yet.

Not long now, bro. Not much time at all 'til Mom and Pop aren't disappointed anymore.

I jerked down on the chains, pulled as hard as I possibly could, thinking that my adrenaline would fire off enough to change me into Superman or something, and I'd break the links.

I yanked, and tugged, and felt my flesh pinching up against the manacles. They had become bear traps, and were going to chew through my wrists if I kept going.

I eased off, breathing heavy against my arm, and tasted my own blood. It was running down my bicep, turning pink as it mixed with the rain water. It was warm, too. Pink and warm. I was almost glad I couldn't see my wrists. I didn't want to know what I'd sliced them into.

The last crack was by far the loudest. Right over my head. It didn't sound like lightning. It was more like an explosion. Like that of a grenade. Light detonated just above me, and I plunged face first in the water. Not deep here, but very dark. And somehow, somehow, the branch missed me when the lightning severed it in half.

I was able to stand. My knees were weak, and shaking, barely able to hold my weight, but as far as I was able to tell, I wasn't dead. Not yet.

I didn't want this turning into one of those out of the frying pan into the fire scenarios. I fought against the water, wading my way to the shore, the bottom rocks cutting into my feet as I trudged to the sand. Gripping the surrounding boulders, I sucked in a lungful of air as I hauled my sorry ass out of the pond.

The rain had turned the shore to mud. Hard to walk on, but easy to bury my cuffed hands. I started digging like a dog, the shredded skin on my wrists stinging and protesting as I shoved my forearms deep within the sand. As I pushed them in as deep as they would go, it occurred to me that while the water may have been fresh, the ground was rich with salt.

I clenched my jaw, heard the crunch of my tongue when I bit into it. That hurt like a bitch, but no comparison to the burning of my wrists.

I believe this is what was known as a hot fucking mess. Naked as a god damn jay bird, the pelting rain beating hard and fast against my exposed ass, the lower part of my arms feeling as if they were on