Free Pure Illusion by Michelle M. Watson Page B

slide up against the headboard. I wince from
the dull ache that pulses in my wrists and backside.
    Hunter
just sands and stares at me like the weirdo he is.
    I
yawn and scratch my head. “Why am I so sore? My ass hurts.”
    His
lips spread into a slow, malicious smile. “You’re bruised, but you’re healing
quite nicely.”
    My
ear drops to my shoulder, and I blink. “Bruised from what?”
    His
stunning, wicked smile broadens as he holds up his hands, palms up, playfully
wiggling his fingers.
    “Your hands?”
    He
nods.
    “I
don’t understand.”
    Hunter
comes closer and sits in the empty space beside me. “What do you remember?”
    “I
remember eating at the diner with Falcon and Vic. I wanted to go to Mayhem.
Victor dressed me in a fairy gown and design beautiful henna…,” I trail off and
raise my arms that are no longer detailed with fine, elegant art.
    “What
else?” His voice is urgent and strained.
    “The club. Victor told me
to stay close and keep my phone on.” A heavy pounding and fog begins to cloud
my brain.
    “Tell
me more,” Hunter demands, his determined eyes locked on mine.
    I
close my eyes and drag my hands down my face, sighing. “I don’t know.”
    “You
do. Talk. Now.”
    Leaning
my head back against the headboard’s chilly metal rails and taking a deep
inhale, I look at the angry purple discolorations wrapped around both wrists.
They’re strangely even and stripe-like. My fingers trace along the bruised
welt. “There was this guy. He gave me some ecstasy. I took some.”
    “How many?”
    I
feel the heat of his eyes burning into me, making my stomach knot. “Two pills,
a star and a peace sign. I felt warm and fuzzy. All I wanted to do was dance, I
think.”
    “Is
that all?”
    I
press a finger into the strip of purple and watch as the blotch fades and
slowly reappears from the indention, ignoring the throbbing pain I caused. “The
rest is kind of hazy.”
    He
leans over and flips my hair over my shoulder. He jaw tenses and he swallows
audibly. “How’d you get that bite mark?” 
    I
follow his gaze to a red rugged ring.
    He
gingerly trails his fingers over the wound, and I shudder. “Uh…” The shroud
that’s smothering my brain gets thicker.
    “How’d
you get it?” Hunter repeats, eyes narrowing and darkening all at once. He lets
his hand fall to the bed, his fingers fisting in the sheets. “Did Max do that?
Did he fuck you too?”  
    I
jerk my head back, gazing up into the depths of his violent eyes. His bitter
accusation surprises me.
    My
brows almost rise to my hairline. “Max?”
    The asshole Max Gabai from high school?
    Max
Gabai, Hunter’s sworn enemy?
    His
eyes widen, an odd emotion I can’t place twisting his features. The control and
patience he’s trying so hard to hold onto snaps. Before I can process any further,
he hovers above me, his massive hands fully and painfully wrap around my upper
arms. He starts to shake me like a lifeless ragdoll. His face is so very close
to mine that I can see the flecks of aqua blue in his cornflower blue eyes.
“Did he bite you, Isabel? Did he fuck you?! Did you let Max fuck you?!”
    The
more he shouts and thrashes me around the angrier I get. The forceful strength
he uses to shake me is beginning to make me dizzy and weak. My teeth are
clashing together and my bones feel like they’re rattling from within. I can
almost feel my brain getting tossed inside my head as it bobs wildly.
    His
fingers tighten around my arms. “You let him fuck you, didn’t you? You fucked
him! You fucked him!”  
    We’re
nose to nose now.
    He
screams in my face, furiously shaking every breath of life out of me.
    I
squeeze my eyes shut to block him out, but he continues to mercilessly jerk me
forward and backward.
    I
feel lightheaded.
    I
think I’m getting whiplash.
    Everything
is twirling around me, spinning around and around.
    My
heart thunders in my ears.
    Why
do I feel sleepy?
    The
screaming slowly begins to fade and stream into