Amendments that shouldn’t be possible.

Tricks that couldn’t be true.

My fingers flew faster, twisting the code past all realms of comprehensible.

This was to be Drake’s crypt. It was only fitting that I spared no expense to his demise.

Currently, Drake and Eleanor were in a campsite set in an American forest on the dawn of the Revolutionary War. A meagre camp where the guest who’d asked me to cypher such a fantasy wanted a bearskin tent, an avatar skilled at combat, and a native Indian girl who happened to be gathering water at a river. A girl who would be overpowered, overcome—a goddess high on elixir who would spread her legs for the illusion of forced conquering.

It’d proven to be a success.

The guest had left entirely satisfied.

Yet Drake would find death instead of pleasure.

My lips thinned as I typed faster and faster. New lines of text slipped into the old, distorting a fantasy within a fantasy, a world within a world.

A world unlike any explorer in the 18th century would’ve found.

Only once I’d completed the amended falsity did I prepare to join them.

Grabbing a few boxes of my Euphoria supplies where Drake had left them scattered, I inserted eye lenses and earbuds. I didn’t bother with anything else, only requiring the bare essentials for my insertion.

Ensuring the lounge doors were closed, I grasped the sedative tight in my fist and hovered my thumb over the screen.

I pressed the button to load a third person into their delusion.

The world went white.

Geneva vanished.

And Sully...was no more.

Chapter Seven

STRANGE THINGS WERE HAPPENING.

An odd thing to think—considering how strange my life had become—but strange things occurred nevertheless.

Things that shouldn’t be possible.

I was no longer in Switzerland but in a forest filled with towering pines. Autumn leaves crackled beneath my moccasin covered feet. Soft beaded leather clothed me, feathers bounced in my hair, tattoos glowed on my arms hidden beneath ivory bangles.

My skin was darker, my hair black instead of brown.

I felt wilder, more in tune with the forest, knowing the breeze swept from the north and the sun signalled late afternoon. I was as native to these woods as the chipmunk watching us and the herd of deer running past in the distance.

Unlike the man doing his best to bed me.

He was an outlander.

A ruffian who stood like a tree trunk with flaming red hair, matching copper beard, and hands the size of dinner plates.

I’d been dodging him since he’d tried to pounce on me by the river’s edge. I’d darted out of his grasp, nimble and swift while he was lumbering and slow.

The only problem was with every second that ticked past, my swiftness drowned beneath sex. Elixir crept faster and crueller through my blood, ensuring I buckled beneath its horror, all while I did my best to ignore it.

I ran from its lust as surely as I ran from the man who no longer looked like Drake but was Drake.

A man who grinned and offered to ease my burning, needy desire. A man with an appendage perfectly created to grant me release after release so I didn’t sink into the quagmire from before—the sticky agony of not being able to come after doing my best to fight it when Sully tried to rescue us.

I’d fought it for far longer than I’d thought possible that night.

Could I do that again?

Could I lock down my system and prevent an orgasm? And if I did, would I be sentencing myself to death by a heart ready to self-implode?

There was no middle ground.

No right and wrong.

If I didn’t bow to my needs, I might not be breathing if Sully arrived.

But if I did give in...how can I ever live with myself?

My heart galloped, hiccupping as I parried out of the way of the man running toward me. “You know you want my cock, girl. Just let me give it to you.”

He was right.

I wanted him.

I wanted his tanned, scarred hands on my symbol-tattooed flesh. I wanted his red beard to scratch my inner thighs as he ate me. I wanted to attack the drawstring holding his tweed trousers around his hips and have him sink inside me.

But it wasn’t me who wanted him.

It was a lie, a drug—the worst kind of trick.

That man wasn’t Sully or the owner of my soul.

He was my enemy.

A troll.

I would rather my heart kick its last beat before I permitted him to fuck me.

“Leave me alone!”

“You’ll be begging me in a few more seconds.” He smirked, scratching his beard. “I’ll just wait here for you to come to your senses.”

“I’ll cut off your balls and throw them into the river if you come near me.”

He laughed hard, his baritone scattering pigeons from the pines.

My skin prickled.

Heat clenched my core.

Wetness dribbled down my leg.

Shit!

Turning away from him, I breathed hard through my nose.

Ignore it.

Ignore it.

Please, God, ignore it.

I wedged my hands into my belly, only to have the insane urge to drop them between my legs.

My leg...

I shivered as a breeze but not a breeze licked around my ankle.

A phantom touch. The sensation of a man’s fingers on my skin before it was gone.

The tease came again, this time around my wrists, a simple brush and then no more.

Drake ran at me, his brawny frame ploughing through fallen leaves and making orange foliage dance around the campsite.

I ran.

Until a few minutes ago, every time I’d tried to run, the boundary of my cage included just a few steps. I could race from the river where my weaved and waterproofed flax pot waited in the grasses. I could reach the bearskin tent and vault over the crackling fire. I could kick his pottery bowls and throw dirt at his face, but I couldn’t gallop into the trees.

I couldn’t chase the deer as they ran.

An invisible blockade prevented me, keeping me within the confines of my hell.

But now...I had no such parameters.

I leaped into the thicket, relishing in the release running gave me. I bumped into invisible things, sharp corners, and hard barriers. I couldn’t see the obstructions, my path clear within the fantasy, but who knew what my body ran into in the outside world.

How had I been freed from where Drake had tied me?

Who untied me?

I ran faster, uncaring I collided and crunched into obstacles. That was why Sully insisted on the harness in Euphoria. Why a goddess was tethered because it prevented bruises and pain by running in one world and crashing in another.

He also said it was to prevent the illusion from breaking apart.

Could I smash this hallucination to pieces if I just kept running into things I couldn’t see? If I forced my body to jerk my mind back into its control, could I be free?

Can I escape Euphoria?

Even if I escape, I’ll still need sex.

Elixir bubbled and grumbled in my blood, doing its best to make me submit but unable to take centre stage while I ran for my life.

My heart couldn’t double beat when it was needed to feed depleted muscles.

Is that the key?

Could I stay alive by pushing myself to the brink of exhaustion in exercise?

“Fuck, come back here!” Drake’s snarl chased me from the campsite.

I looked over my shoulder and tripped over a stupid tree root.