The soreness is the first sensation I experience. My entire body aches dullly and throbbingly, reminding me of last night. As soon as I open my eyes, I see the strange scene of silk sheets wrapped about my legs.
Where am I?
The memories struck me like a tempest. I remembered his hands gripping my waist as if he would never let go, the passionate murmurs, and the desperate touches. I feel knots forming in my stomach. God, please. What did I do?
My head spins as I sit up too quickly. His aroma, masculine, enticing, and threatening, permeates the air. I look around the space. It's opulent, poorly lighted, and incredibly spacious. Heavy curtains block most of the daylight. The bed underneath me seems enormous, too large, and too personal. I feel panic rising in my throat.
I have to go.
I clamber to my feet, and the covers fall away from me. The remnants of my garment are lying in a rumpled mess close to the door. I grab it and try to smooth the fabric with quivering fingertips. I can hardly wear it due to its rips.
I'm stopped cold by a deep voice.
"Leaving so soon?"
I catch my breath. I don't look back. I am unable to.
Slow, steady steps come closer. Something heavy or invisible charges the air as it changes. I make myself glance up, and he's there—
Carter, Lucas.
Zane.
Lucas, no.
His black eyes are brewing a storm, furious and unreadable. When his shirt is unbuttoned, taut muscle and golden skin are visible. His disheveled hair is evidence of the mayhem of the previous evening. He has a sinful appearance. similar to temptation. I fell for it.
I mutter, more to myself than to him, "You weren't supposed to be him."
"Yet, here we are."
Quiet. Suffocating, tight. His eyes never falter or soften. Like a predator determining whether a prey is worth pursuing, he is analyzing me and making calculations.
"It was a mistake," I remark in a shaky voice. "It meant nothing."
His expression changes too quickly to capture. He then grins, but it stays out of his eyes. "Is that what you're telling yourself?"
I tighten my grip on the dress. "I need to go."
"Then go."
His voice is low, almost bold, yet his words are cutting. He moves out of the way so I can go to the door. I swear he can hear how loudly my heart is pounding. I take a step, then another. I anticipate that he will stop me, say something, or say anything at all. However, he doesn't.
Outside, the chilly air slaps me. I'm constantly on the go. I don't turn around. In the still morning, the sound of my heels clicking against the pavement is uncannily loud.
All I have to do is go home.
Then it occurs, though.
that sensation.
The pressure of invisible eyeballs presses against my flesh. My heartbeat quickens. I look behind me. Nothing. There were only shadows across the deserted street. The feeling is still there, creeping up my back.
Someone is watching me.
I quicken my speed, breathing erratically. It's only a couple more blocks to my place. Nearly there—
A buzzing phone breaks the silence.
I go cold.
I take my phone out of my backpack slowly. An unknown number displays on the screen. One message gives me a frown in return.
I am aware of what you did.
My veins are filled with ice. I tighten my hold on the gadget. My pulse thunders against my ribs.
No. No, no, no.
A shadow shifts in the corner of my vision. My breath catches. I turn around—
The street seems deserted, though.
The sensation is still there, though.
Someone is aware.
They're waiting, too.
I lock the door behind me as soon as I enter my home and lean my back against the cool wood. Running causes my lungs to burn.
With a short exhale, I head upstairs, being cautious not to wake anyone. But I hear quiet, low murmurs as I walk by Lillian's chamber.
She is careless. You ought to have more authority over her.
The voice of a man rang out. Known.
Ryan.
I am filled with nausea. I scarcely breathe as I push for the door.
"I don't care about her," Lillian laughs. "She acts as she pleases and then expects someone else to correct it."
I clutch the fabric of my dress and bite my lip. Naturally. She views me that way. An issue. A humiliation.
Ryan lets out a sigh. "Watch out for her. She is attracting the wrong kind of attention.
It deeply chills me.
What is he trying to say?
I take a step back, trying not to make noise. At the moment, my room seems to be the sole secure location. I collapse on my bed, my head whirling. Once more, my phone buzzes. I check it, my hands shaking.
I have one more message to send.
He owns you. Remember that.
Someone knocked on my window.
I yell.
Outside the glass, something moves. With a pounding heart, I push back the curtains. However, nothing is present. There was nothing except my wide-eyed, frightened reflection staring back at me.
I take a deep breath. Perhaps I'm going crazy. Perhaps it's simply paranoia.
Then I notice it.
On my windowsill, there was a solitary black feather.
My breath catches in my throat. An emblem. A caution.
Someone is observing.
They're also closer than I anticipated.
That night, I don't go to sleep. My mind is racing with questions, terror, and the lingering remembrance of Lucas's touch.
Who sent the messages? Who is observing me? And why does it seem to me that last night was only the start?
One thing is certain—
I'm not safe anymore.