Uncovering You 7: Resurrection Read Online Free

remember my cell phone. My cell phone. Jesus, what does it say for my mental state if it took me that long to think of it?
    I pull it out and dial Jeremy. I press it to my ear and start to pace back and forth as I wait for the call to go through.
    It doesn’t ring. I wait and wait, but I don’t hear the phone ringing. Why isn’t it ringing? I look at the screen, thinking maybe I forgot to hit ‘call’… and then I see the empty triangle where the signal status should be.
    No shit you can’t make the call! An inner voice screams at me. You’re in a fucking elevator! A closed metal box!
    My eyes dart from wall to wall.
    Trapped, I think. I’m trapped, trapped, trapped!
    The weight of the steel, the sturdiness of its construction presses down on me. I feel the pressure from every side. I look at the doors. I can’t go back out there. Not without Jeremy. Not when I know there’s another collar waiting for me on this floor.
    I’m going crazy. I’m on the verge of breaking down. I try to slow my breathing, to take deep, heavy inhales and calm my frenetic thoughts.
    Nope. It doesn’t work. If anything, it heightens my anxiety. Somebody else knows about the collar. Somebody else has a copy of the collar.
    Somebody else could spring it on my neck.
    My back hits the cold, metal wall. My knees give out. I slide all the way to the floor, press my knees tight to my chest, and begin to shake.
    With a little jerk, the elevator starts to move.
    I look around dumbly. The elevator’s moving up . I can feel it through the floor. It stops, and the doors open.
    Through blurry eyes, I see Jeremy striding toward me, along the far side of the hall, moving fast. He looks determined, but also alarmed.
    Without thought, I pick myself up and rush into his arms. He holds me. I can feel his strength, his firmness against me. With every breath I take, I breathe him in, finding comfort in the familiarity of his cologne, his aftershave, and him .
    I break down and sob uncontrollably.
    “Lilly,” he says. “Talk to me. What happened? What’s wrong?”
    I want to tell him, but the words don’t come. All I am capable of is more crying. I shake my head back and forth, blubbering against him.
    He seems to understand. “Come on,” he says, gently guiding me. “We’ll go in my office. We’ll have complete privacy there.”
    I nod, still sniffling, and follow his direction.
    The walk there is a blur. Going through the sliding doors and being lowered into a sofa seat is a blur. Everything is a blur. I don’t even know how I got the glass of water in my hands. I’m operating on a level more basic than autopilot. It’s like my conscious mind has shut down, retracted from what it perceives as an unfathomable threat. I’m little more than a zombie.
    The glass. I focus on the glass. The liquid inside is clear. I should drink it. Shouldn’t I? I bring it to my lips, take a sip—and nearly choke when I find it’s not water, but some type of liquor.
    “Drink, Lilly.” Jeremy’s voice is firm. I feel his hand wrap around mine and guide the glass to my lips. “Drink. It’ll calm you.”
    I find comfort in that strong, authoritative voice. It feels natural to do what he says. It feels natural to comply.
    So, I drink all of whatever it is Jeremy gave me. The harsh liquid burns my throat. When it’s all down, a bit of clarity settles over me.
    I blink once or twice, clearing my eyes. Jeremy comes into view.
    He’s kneeling beside me, his public mask flung away, concern shining through his dark, beautiful eyes. He looks a vision, as always, and I have a surreal moment when I consider that this man actually and truly cares for me.
    “Lilly.” He takes my hand and holds it between his, stroking his thumb over my knuckle. “Lilly-Flower. Talk to me. Tell me what happened. When I saw you through the elevator camera, I nearly lost it.”
    “That’s—that’s how you knew?” I blubber. “That’s how you knew to get me?”
    “I get alerted