Chapter 3: Morning After Madness
Sunlight, sharp and accusing, cut through the gaps in the blinds. It painted stripes across Matt’s closed eyelids. He woke by degrees, the smell of jasmine and stale alcohol curling in his nose, the feel of black silk under his cheek. His body ached in a deep, familiar way. A good way.
He rolled over. The other side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool.
A stupid, goofy grin spread across his face before he even opened his eyes. He stretched, joints popping, and let out a contented sigh. The memory was a warm, liquid slide in his veins—her hands, her voice, the absolute ownership in her eyes. He’d never felt so… useful. So seen.
He found her in the living room, a small silhouette against the bright window. She was wearing a big t-shirt and nothing else, scrolling through her phone with one hand, sipping from a large glass of water in the other. The evidence of last night’s party lay everywhere: the tequila bottles, the couch cushions on the floor, a plate of forgotten sushi on the counter, the rice gone hard.
“Morning,” he said, his voice raspy.
Cat didn’t look up. “It’s one PM.”
He padded over, barefoot on the cool hardwood. He wanted to touch her—the dip of her waist, the hair tumbling over her shoulder. He settled for standing close, breathing her in. “Last night was… fuck, Cat. I don’t even have words. You’re incredible.”
She finally glanced at him, a flicker of her dark eyes. There was no warmth in it. Just assessment. “You say that to all the girls?”
“No, I mean it.” The words tumbled out, earnest and clumsy. “The way you… you just took control. I’ve never experienced anything like that. It was powerful. You’re powerful.”
She took another long sip of water, looking back at her phone. A faint smile played on her lips, but it wasn’t for him. It was at something on the screen. “Yeah. I am.”
He hovered, the devotion in him like a physical pressure. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? I could go get bagels.”
“I don’t eat carbs.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“You should probably head out,” she said, her tone flat. “I’ve got shit to do.”
Disappointment, sharp and childish, pricked at him. But it was quickly buried under the overwhelming need to please. To obey. “Of course. Whatever you need.” He hesitated. “So… I’ll see you later? Maybe tonight?”
She finally put her phone down and looked at him fully. Her gaze traveled from his sleep-mussed hair down to his bare chest, the marks from her nails faint red trails on his pale skin. A trophy. “Yeah. Tonight.”
The command was a key turning in a lock inside his ribs. He felt it click into place.
“I won’t.”
He found his clothes, pulled them on. She didn’t watch him dress. She’d gone back to her phone, tapping out a message, her thumbs moving fast.
At the door, he turned. “Last night was really special to me, Cat.”
This time, she didn’t smile at all. “Go home, Matt.”
The Brew was all exposed brick and the smell of roasted coffee beans. Matt’s usual corner table was occupied by his friends, Liam and Jared. They’d been his college roommates. They knew about Veronica. They thought they knew about Cat.
“Look who resurrected,” Liam said, sliding a black coffee across the table as Matt sat down. “We were about to send out a search party. Or, you know, check Cat’s dungeon.”
Jared snorted into his latte. “Dude, you look wrecked. In a good way. Mostly.”
Matt felt the glow from the morning return, warming him from the inside. He couldn’t stop the smile. “It was… different.”
“I’ll bet,” Liam said, leaning forward. “Let me guess. Weird role-play? Kinky shit? She’s got that look, man. The ‘I own a lot of leather’ look.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Matt said, defensiveness creeping into his voice. He took a scalding gulp of coffee. “It was… deeper. It was about trust. And service.”
The word hung in the air. Jared’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “Service? What are you, her butler now? Did you fold her laundry after?”
Liam chuckled. “Oh, he serviced her alright. Let me tell you how this goes, Matty. You’re not the first guy she’s brought home from one of her parties. You won’t be the last. She’s a fucking vortex. Fun to look at, absolute disaster to get sucked into. You’re a notch, bro. A fun, skinny, pale little notch.”
Something cold and hard solidified in Matt’s gut. The warm glow was suddenly a protective fire. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know she’s slept with, like, half of my cousin’s band,” Jared said, shrugging. “And that was two years ago. The body count is probably staggering by now. It’s what she does. She collects experiences. You’re just this month’s.”
“Shut up,” Matt said, his voice low.
“Or what?” Liam laughed, but it was tense. “Dude, come on. We’re looking out for you. Post-Veronica rebound is a minefield. This is a titanium-plated mine. She’s gonna chew you up and spit you out, and you’re gonna thank her for it.”
The image flashed in Matt’s mind: Cat above him, sweat-slicked, utterly in command. The look in her eyes wasn’t of someone discarding something. It was possession. “You’re wrong,” he insisted, his hands curling into fists under the table. “She’s not like that. You don’t know her. You don’t know what happened.”
“We know enough,” Liam pressed, his tone losing its joking edge. “She’s a user, Matt. She sees a nice guy with a broken heart and she sees an opportunity. For a story to tell her friends. For a temporary pet.”
The word “pet” snapped something. A red haze descended. Matt was on his feet before he knew it, the table rocking, coffee sloshing over the rims of their mugs. “Don’t you fucking call her that. Don’t you ever talk about her like that.”
The café quieted. A few heads turned.
Liam stood up slowly, hands raised. “Whoa. Okay. Just calm down, man.”
“You don’t get it,” Matt spat, his heart hammering against his ribs. “She chose me. Out of everyone there, she chose me. What we have… it’s real. You’re just jealous. You’re jealous because you could never handle a woman that powerful. You’d shrivel up and die.”
Jared stood now too, putting a hand on Matt’s arm. “Matt, sit down. You’re making a scene.”
Matt shrugged him off violently. The urge to smash his fist into Liam’s smug face was a pounding, metallic taste in his mouth. He saw Cat’s locket in his mind’s eye, the spirals pulsing. Serve. Obey.
He was serving her now. Defending her honor.
“Don’t ever speak about her again,” he said, his voice trembling with a fury that felt holy. “Either of you.”
He turned and stalked out of the café, leaving his friends in stunned silence and a puddle of spilled coffee.
Outside, the cold air hit him. He fumbled for his phone, his fingers clumsy with adrenaline. He opened his messages to Cat.
Had to defend you to Liam and Jared. They don’t understand. They’re idiots. Can’t wait to see you tonight.
He stared at the screen, waiting for the little dots to appear. They didn’t.
Back in her apartment, Cat scrolled through her photos. She’d taken a few last night, after Matt had fallen asleep. Artistic shots. The curve of his spine in the low light. His hand splayed on the black sheets. The neat, red lines her nails had left on his back.
She flicked to her message thread with an acquaintance, a gallery owner downtown.
New series coming together, she typed. Exploring devotion. The male form as canvas. Very raw.
The reply came fast. Intrigued. Send samples.
Cat selected the best photo—Matt’s sleeping profile, the locket’s chain just visible around her own neck in the foreground—and sent it.
Her phone buzzed again. A different notification. Matt’s text.
She read it, her expression unmoved. The frantic, defensive energy of it vibrated through the screen. Had to defend you…
She pictured it. The skinny kid, fists clenched, yelling in some boring coffee shop. A knight in shining anxiety.
A soft, singular laugh escaped her. She swiped the notification away, leaving the message on ‘read’.
Her thumb moved to the dating app icon. She opened it. The first profile was a guy with a beard and kind eyes. A graphic designer. He looked stable. Sweet. Boring.
She swiped left. It made a dry, dismissing sound.
The next one liked hiking and vinyl records. She swiped left again.
The ritual was calming. A curation of possibilities. A reminder that the world was full of beautiful, willing things waiting to be seen.
Outside, the sun began its slow decline, painting the messy apartment in long, dramatic shadows. The plate of sushi on the counter seemed to gleam in the fading light. The locket, resting on her nightstand, held the last of the sun in its polished curve, the spirals dark and deep, waiting for the next time she needed them to spin.
The locket, resting on her nightstand, held the last of the sun in its polished curve, the spirals dark and deep, waiting for the next time she needed them to spin.
Boredom was a physical itch between Cat’s shoulders. The apartment was too quiet, the silence thick with the ghost of last night’s bass and Matt’s earnest, heavy energy. She needed to move, to push against something real. She threw on a thin, sage-green slip dress and stepped into the hallway, locking her door behind her just as her neighbor, Leo, was fumbling with his keys.
“Hey,” he said, looking up. He was tall, a welder with shoulders that strained his t-shirt and forearms marked with faint, silvery burns. They’d exchanged pleasantries for months, sometimes sharing the elevator. He had a calm, grounded presence she’d catalogued but never tapped.
“Hey yourself.” She leaned against her doorframe, letting the silence stretch just a beat too long. Her gaze was a direct, unflinching thing. “Have a good day?”
“It was alright.” He smiled, a little cautious, his eyes dropping to the lines of her dress before snapping back up. “You?”
“Restless.” She took a small step forward, closing the distance between them in the dim hall. The air smelled of old carpet and the sandalwood soap he used. “Everything feels a little too still, you know?”
He nodded slowly, his keys forgotten in his hand. She saw the moment his curiosity tipped into something else, a flicker in his brown eyes. It was a clean, simple transition. No spirals, no mystical pull. Just the raw arithmetic of proximity and a certain look from a certain woman.
“I know the feeling,” he murmured.
Cat reached out and plucked a tiny, imaginary piece of lint from the shoulder of his shirt. Her fingers lingered. “You’re usually so put together.”
That was all it took. He leaned down and kissed her, his mouth warm and surprisingly soft. She kissed him back, a slow, exploring pressure that was all her own invention. His hands came up to her waist, pulling her against him. He tasted of coffee and mint.
This was different from Matt. There was no conquest here, only a mutual, uncomplicated heat. It was refreshing.
She guided him backwards, her mouth still on his, until his back was against his own apartment door. The metal was cool through his shirt. Her hands slid up his solid chest, her mind already filing away the sensations—the sheer, un-hypnotized want of him, the way his breath hitched when she bit his lower lip gently.
The elevator at the end of the hall dinged.
The sound was a distant, tinny intrusion. Cat ignored it, deepening the kiss, one leg hooking around his. Footsteps echoed on the linoleum, growing closer, hurried. A familiar, lanky silhouette rounded the corner and froze.
Matt stood there, a paper bag of groceries cradled in one arm. His face, which had been carrying a small, expectant smile, dissolved. The smile cracked, fell away, leaving behind a naked landscape of confusion that quickly eroded into dawning horror. The bag slipped from his grip, hitting the floor with a dull thud. A single onion rolled out, coming to rest against the baseboard.
Cat pulled her mouth from Leo’s, but didn’t step away. She kept her hand on Leo’s chest, feeling the strong, quick rhythm of his heart. She turned her head to look at Matt. Her expression wasn’t one of guilt, or shock. It was one of mild irritation, like someone had interrupted a private phone call.
“Matt,” she said, her voice perfectly even.
He couldn’t speak. His mouth opened, but only a choked sound came out. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, darting from her face to Leo’s hands still on her waist, to her lips, which were visibly swollen. The devastation was absolute. It wasn’t just betrayal; it was the annihilation of the entire reality he’d built since last night—the devotion, the specialness, the promised “tonight.”
Leo started to pull away, confusion clouding his features. “Uh, man, I’m sorry, this isn’t…”
“Stay right there,” Cat commanded Leo, her voice dropping to a low, authoritative register. Then she looked back at Matt, whose breath was coming in short, ragged gasps. “Matt. Look at me.”
His eyes, swimming with pain, found hers. They were vulnerable, shattered. Perfect.
In one fluid motion, Cat’s free hand went to the chain around her neck. She hadn’t even changed out of the locket. She yanked it out from under her dress, the heart-shaped pendant swinging into the sterile hall light. She let it dangle, catching the glare from the overhead fixture.
“Both of you,” she said, her voice now a hypnotic monotone. “Watch the center. Follow the spin.”
Matt, already conditioned, already broken open, was locked onto it instantly. His sobbing breaths began to even out, his gaze going glassy and fixed. Leo, bewildered, tried to look at her face instead. “What are you—?”
“Look at the pendant, Leo,” she ordered, thrusting it closer to his face. The spirals were a silver vortex. “Watch it turn. Listen to my voice. Nothing else matters.”
His resistance was a physical thing, a slight stiffening of his neck. But the curiosity, the disorientation, and the raw power of her presence overwhelmed it. His eyes dropped to the swinging metal. He watched. His body relaxed against the door.
The only sound was the hum of the elevator machinery and Cat’s calm, rhythmic voice. “You came out to ask me about a leaking pipe. We talked in the hallway. That’s all. You felt a friendly connection, but nothing happened. You’re going back into your apartment now. You’ll remember a nice chat with your neighbor.”
She shifted the locket’s arc slightly, ensuring Matt stayed within its field. “Matt, you brought me groceries. You were being sweet. You saw me talking kindly to Leo about a building issue. You felt secure because you know you’re the one I want. You feel calm. You feel loved. You will only remember bringing me food and my gratitude.”
She repeated the phrases, layering them, weaving the new, false memory over the raw, painful one. She watched their faces smooth out, the tension bleeding away from Matt’s shoulders, the confusion clearing from Leo’s eyes.
“Okay,” Leo said softly, blinking. He looked at Cat, a polite smile touching his lips. “Thanks for the pipe advice. I’ll get that sealant.” He turned, unlocked his door, and went inside without a backward glance.
Cat let the locket fall against her chest. She focused on Matt, who was staring at her with a soft, dazed affection. The groceries were still spilled at his feet. “Pick that up, baby,” she said gently. “Bring it inside for me.”
He nodded, bending mechanically to gather the fallen onion, the pasta box, the jar of sauce. He followed her into the apartment, a docile helper, his crisis seamlessly erased and replaced with a mundane chore. She closed the door behind them, the click of the latch final. The hallway was empty, holding only the faint scent of sandalwood and the ghost of a shattered moment that no one would ever remember.