average human’s Reviews > Don't Touch > Status Update

I roll my eyes, glaring at the unicorn in front of me. “Why the fuck are you standing here trying to beg me to stay?”
“Because I care!” He shakes his head at my mocking laugh. “Maeve, you’ve just suffered through a hugely traumatic ordeal⁠—”
“I was a whiny bitch crying for an orgasm, Adrian.”
He flinches, his cheeks reddening, as he slides in closer to his desk.
What? He can say heats and knots, but orgasm is where he gets embarrassed?
Poor Helen.
“No, Maeve, you weren’t,” he says gently. His steel blue eyes fill with sadness. “You suffered through a trauma. It was hard on your mental space, your body… your heat wasn’t something little that can be so easily dismissed.”
“Oh, so because I had a hard time, it makes me unable to make decisions?” I cock my hip. “I planned this out all the way back before I even realised that my heat was due. What’s your excuse now?”
“Yes, but that was just because you were upset about Julian. You didn’t really mean it.”
“Oh, wow, I’m so glad you know how I feel better than I do.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” He glares at the ceiling, muttering something inaudible under his breath.
“Do you think I’m doing this to, what… have you on?” I ask, laughing bitterly. “I’m leaving, Adrian, because you’re a joke. You’re a terrible leader, and an even worse guardian. Did you really think I’d fall for your pathetic tricks?”
“Tricks?” He arches a brow, leaning back in his chair, as if my hurt is nothing to him.
Well, at least that part isn’t feigned.
“Making your nephew pretend to be my mate.” I hold up one finger, and he rolls his eyes.
“Getting him a job at my place of work to try and give us a cute little workplace romance.” I hold up a second finger, and he snorts, genuine amusement covering his face.
“Getting him here just in time for my heat, after threatening me last time with never spending another one alone.” I hold up a third finger, and he sighs.
“Sending me a pathetic threatening letter, written in red ink, pretending it’s someone’s blood.” I hold up my fourth finger, and his nostrils flare as he leans forward in his seat.
“Lying about—” I start, but this time, he cuts me off with a low snarl.
“What are you talking about?” he demands. “What letter?”
“The one you sent me,” I say the words slowly, giving him a dirty look for interrupting me as I was finally getting to air my grievances. “It was cute, pretending you murdered someone on the compound because I smiled at him, but we all know how annoyingly safe it is here.”
“How do you know about someone being dead?” he asks, his tone deathly calm.
“You wrote the letter,” I say.
“Where is this letter, Maeve?” His words are hypnotising, and even if I wanted to continue our disagreement, I know that this isn’t the time.
He didn’t write the letter.
My hands tremble as I reach down for my bag, the memory of the letter’s contents making my stomach churn. I struggle with the zip on the top of the bag, and Adrian silently watches.
I spot the offending article and grasp it with just my thumb and forefinger as if touching it alone can burn me. I place it on his desk, my eyes narrowing, as my heart races erratically.
“This was one of your tricks, right?” My voice is small, uneasy.
I need him to have done this. I can hate him for it, but it’s better than the alternative. Right?
He uses his pen to gently pull it towards himself, and as he reads over the letter I received the other week, the air in the room feels heavier. My chest tightens, and a prickling sensation spreads across my skin.
It takes thirty seconds for him to snarl loudly enough that I jump in surprise. His fury is clear to see, and as his presence takes up more space, the walls start to close in.
Within two minutes, the door to his office flies open, and Helen comes rushing in. I can smell her fear and see the unease within her. As she moves over to Adrian, I back away, moving to the corner of the room so that I can take in the situation in front of me that much easier.
Adrian pulls his mate into his arms, holding her close, and I can’t hear what they’re saying to each other as they’re using their mind link, but they’re not happy at all.
But their unease is only making mine grow. I can’t hear much past the thudding of my heart, and no matter how much I try to calm down, all I can see is that letter in front of me on the desk.
The letter written in blood. He told me that he wrote it in his blood, and I thought it was a lie because I thought it came from Adrian.
I thought Adrian was trying to scare me. That he was trying to keep me in line and get me to obey.
I had no reason to doubt that this was one of Adrian’s more underhanded tactics.
And yet, this time, it seems Adrian and my stepfather aren’t the only villains in my life.
I lean against the wall and hope that the cold feeling of it will keep me grounded in the moment. I can’t lose it now. Adrian can’t think he’s right about me.
I can do this. I’m not a victim. I’m stronger than this.
Anxiety is a bitch. But if I force my body to panic about the way I’m touching a wall instead of the stalker, then I’ll be okay. I can control it. I can make my anxiety obey me for a change.
A heaving breath escapes me as my legs start to tremble. The wall isn’t enough to support me. It’s not enough to keep me calm.
I slide down it, my bum hitting the floor.
I was wrong. I won’t be okay.
Adrian’s head snaps over to mine, and I don’t need my enhanced sense of smell to tell that he’s annoyed with my interruption.
My breath comes in shallow gasps, each one feeling like a struggle. My vision blurs at the edges, my nose itching.
The door opens again, the dark oak slamming against the wall with their ferocity, and five men come in. Each of them are strong mythical shifters, but with my anxiety, I can’t differentiate whose scent is who.
They’re tall, move as one, and are wearing the enforcers uniforms. The dark midnight blue has silver accents that catch the light as they move.
Despite not being an official tactical unit, they’re wearing cargo pants and a tactical vest. Their heavy boots should thud against the floor, but they’ve mastered a silent walk that gives me chills.
Who’s to say Adrian didn’t still send this letter, and it was one of these goons who killed for him?
I wish that was the case.
They carry a firm air of authority and readiness, and no matter how much I try to look away from them, I can’t. I’m terrified.
Adrian’s voice is full of anger as he speaks, but I don’t take in any of the words he says. Helen is by his side doing her best to keep Adrian calm.
I wish I could be calm. I wish I could live in the ignorance that I have been.
Adrian’s reacting as if he didn’t send me this letter.
And if it wasn’t him… I gag seconds before I throw up all over the floor in front of me. My throat is burning, my eyes stinging, and the loud sobs are causing my head to pound so much more. Whoever is crying that dramatically needs to stop.
I feel disgusting. Sitting here having so much touch me, vomit in front of me… but I don’t care.
Can’t breathe. It’s too much.
It’s too loud.
I need to escape.
But where will I go?
I swore I’d never be a victim again.
I can’t be put into that situation again.
But someone wants to make me into one.
“Help me,” I whisper as my vision goes black.