Obsessed (Rise of the Sphinx Book 3) by J Kearston

Author:J Kearston [Kearston, J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J. Kearston
Published: 2020-06-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Raina

I heave in heavy breaths as I stifle the urge to vomit. I feel like I just ran ten miles at a dead sprint while dehydrated, and I’ve never been one for so much as jogging in the first place. On shaky legs, I use the wall to support myself as I stand up straight.

I’m faring much better than I imagined I would be after holding a portal open for that long. Maybe it was drawing on the Sphinxes’ collective power this time instead, or maybe last time it was just the new sensations of doing it the first time that drained me so much and my body was getting used to using this ability now. How the heck would I know though? Up until a few months ago, people thought I was a myth. Heck, I thought people like me were myths. It’s not like there’s exactly a manual that even tells me what all I’m able to do, much less how to successfully accomplish it without keeling over.

I try to step forward, leaning against the wall for support, and make it three steps before something catches my ankle and jerks me to a halt. Snapping back to reality, I look around me as I try to shake the fog from my brain, getting my muddled thoughts back onto an actually useful train of thought.

The wall I’m leaning against is a soft green and the floor beneath my feet is dark hardwood. On the other side of the room is a four poster bed with a sheer canopy on each side that’s tied back for an unobstructed view. Matching nightstands beside the bed have potted plants on each instead of lamps, weirdly enough. All of that means nothing as I take stock of the corpse lying six feet away from me with a hole through her chest.

Artemis.

Memories hit me like a freight train; Artemis doing something to put me to sleep, freeing the women, rescuing Seros. I reach down to fiddle with the hem of my shirt, only to find it bare, my scarred flesh on display.

I glance down at myself, temporarily pretending there isn’t a dead woman lying in the room with me, to find that I’m dressed in some type of pathetic excuse for a bra; black with dark green accents and thin silver chains attached under each side hanging down in a series of drapes. My pants were replaced with a pair of panties and a see through matching wrap skirt tied off at the hip. The slit leaves the entire side of one of my legs exposed up to the hip if I so much as move, not that the transparent material hides anything anyway. I’m barefoot, a thick chain clasped around my ankle and the links seemingly attached to nothing as it emerges from the wood in the corner.

What in the name of all things slave Leia is going on? I look like some type of belly dancing concubine. I’m supposed to have a harem, not be a part of one.

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