Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace (Dexter) novel Chapter 50

Chapter 50 

I was gone, yet the killer hadn’t truly been brought to justice. 

Colin was bailed out by the Langley family once more, armed with a psychiatric diagnosis and an alibi. The police were powerless, and they had no choice but to let him walk free again. 

“You little brat, if you don’t give the Langley family an heir soon, you can forget about ever leaving this place!” 

In a daze, I heard a vicious voice. It snapped me back to reality. 

“Sir, the drug has been administered, and the woman is in the room. This time, it’s bound to work.” 

My heart raced with panic. Where am I? Why are my eyelids so heavy? 

“Phoebe…” A raspy voice reached my ears, filled with hurried breaths and a trembling desire that couldn’t be concealed. 

Suddenly, a kiss laden with burning urgency pressed upon me, and my shock and dread peaked. 

Where is this? Where am I? 

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“Mmm…” A low groan seemed to escape my throat as I struggled to resist and to open my eyes, but to no avail. 

“Phoebe…” He kept calling my name, yet it felt so alien to me. 

His touch was frantic, but I could feel him fighting with all his might to restrain–his desires. It was as if he cherished my body, not wanting to hurt me.. 

“I’m sorry… Phoebe, I can’t control… my body.” 

He sounded tormented, choking up, apologizing, seemingly out of his mind. 

Eventually, I gave up fighting and lost consciousness once more. 

“Mmm…” 

After an unknown span of time, the soreness of my body dragged me back to reality. 

I slowly opened my eyes, squinting as the light blurred my vision. 

Sunlight streamed in through the French windows, with white curtains dancing at the sides. 

13:11 

I rubbed my aching forehead, took a moment to gather myself, and then my eyes snapped open 

in shock. 

Wasn’t I dead? 

Propping myself up, I sat bewildered, staring at the man lying beside me. 

“Ah!” The unfamiliar surroundings and the man prompted a startled cry from me, and I nearly tumbled off the bed. 

Suddenly, a pale but strong hand reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me back to the safety of the bed. 

My breathing turned rapid as I stared at the hand, scars trailing from the back of it to the forearm, the muscles defined and tense with effort. 

The man was lying on the bed, his back even more scarred, yet the attractive muscle contours seemed to soften the severity. His hair was soft and overgrown, jet–black and tousled. 

I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I forced myself to stay calm. 

The duvet loosely covered his lower waist, the contours of his hips were clear and appealing. 

Given the scene before me, even I could guess what had happened last night. 

On the pristine bed sheet, there was a stain of shocking red. I stared at the crimson mark, panicked, and quickly got off the bed. 

The pain in my body and between my legs rooted me to the spot in disbelief. 

Impossible… 

Dexter and I had been together in bed long ago, the bloodstain on the bed… 

But wait, wasn’t I dead?