Free Theta Waves Book 1 (Episodes 1-3) by Thea Atkinson

hands went to her thighs and pressed her legs flat before his fingers went to the bottom of her T-shirt. It took a few moments before she noticed that he had his monstrous knife in his hand again. Before she could gasp in panic that he would do her harm, he had cut through the material and sliced up to the neck, pulling both edges to the sides and exposing her bra. One flick and that was cut in two as well.
    His gaze caught on the hard nipples as though they'd fetched up on them. Theda didn't have time to be ashamed; he brought the soap to her skin much the same as he'd done to her clothing. He scrubbed methodically and clinically until the lather was a thick froth, and though he lingered a little too long on her breasts, he did eventually rise to her neck and scrub behind her ears much the same as a mother would do to a child.
    "Getting there," he said but there was a thickness to his voice despite the matter-of-fact words. "Stay still," he said, aiming the knife again towards her jeans and slicing through both Pant legs as though they were made of gelatin.
    Her panties had been gorgeous once: vivid purple with lace in all the right spots. In her mind, she saw them the way she had when she bought them, but looking at them now she could see how ratty they had become. It wasn't the thought that he'd be cutting them and exposing her that made her hands fly to cover herself. It was the thought that she didn't want him to see how ugly those panties were now.
    She caught his eye and thankfully he held to hers. Despite the sensory overload, the nausea, the cramping in her muscles, she could still admit how beautiful those eyes of his were. She told herself that eyes as beautiful as that would have to feel some compassion.
    "I'll be gentle," he said. "Close your eyes."
    She did as she was bid because she knew she was going to have to endure it, and closing her eyes would surely make it easier. If she had enough imagination left in her fevered brain, she could even pretend her underwear were brand-new.
    She wasn't sure what to expect, a languid motion across her labia, a sensual flicker against her opening, but it was over before she had time to feel embarrassed. A few quick strokes, light but thorough.
    He lifted her from the tub, helping her to stand by holding her against him as he wrapped a thick towel around her and brushed his hands up and down over it, bringing warmth to the surface of her skin. He'd been right, she did feel a little better. While her muscles were still weak, she didn't feel as though she would fall if left to stand on her own. Without a word, without checking to see if she needed it, he scooped her from her feet and left the steam of the bathroom behind as he kicked open a door to the left. He deposited her almost tenderly on the edge of the bed inside.
    She could hear Bridget downstairs rattling dishes and assumed she was making Ezekiel some sort of lunch. It had to be long past midnight and yet the woman had been fully dressed and wide-awake when they'd arrived. He seemed to interpret her glance. "She sees the future." He shrugged. "I guess she knew we were coming."
    Theda couldn't do much more than nod. It wasn't such a stretch after all. If she could see the past, why couldn't someone see the future. It was almost comforting to know that there could be one.
    "Who is she?"
    "A lover," he said.
    It was a strangely hurtful blow. She stretched her fingers along where her jeans pocket should have been, searching for her last smear. She'd take it when he wasn't looking, wash away all of the feeling like he'd washed away all of her filth. Except her pants were in the bathroom. She chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully, resentfully as she watched Ezekiel assemble blankets and pillows on the floor.
    She was thinking of ways to hit him over the head and escape with the mother load from his pocket when he faced her, hands on hips, seeming to be considering something. His eyes locked on her bare shoulders as