18

Avrora
Anatoli’s seductive stare intensifies and his raw masculine presence lulls me like a drug, enticing my body to betray me. His closeness doesn’t help either.
One corner of his sensual lips turns up, and he angles himself so he’s a breath away.
“Maybe you’d like that. Or you will.” His breath caresses my skin, turning up the heat burning through me. “Don’t people say good girls prefer bad boys? I’m as bad as they come, Valkyrie.” He shows me the tattoo on his wrist. The sight makes me wonder what he must have gone through to get it and how many he had to kill.
“Oh I definitely believe you’re as bad as they come.” I nod.
“Good. Glad we’re on the same page because I also heard good girls love to be fucked hard and dirty. Is that how you want it, baby girl? That’s how I like it.”
I’m already on fire, but I shock myself further when I realize moisture is beading between my thighs. My God, I’m actually aroused by this man and his dirty words, and I shouldn’t be.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Guys like him would usually be an instant turn off, but maybe being held against my will by this psychotic man is throwing my mind out of sync.
“You are vile,” I grate out, swallowing past the lump clogging my throat.
Moving so that we’re eye to eye, he rivets his gaze to mine as if he can see through to my most secret thoughts.
“Am I? I’m simply making an observation based on the scent of your fear and needs.”
He searches my eyes and I try to pretend he’s not affecting me, but I know I fail. I know he knows too, because there’s something strange between us- him and I. Something wicked and alien to me.
It feels like attraction, but it can’t simply be that. There’s no way.
Attractionfeels like too meager a word to describe this… entity.
This entity my soul warns me to be careful of.
Schooling my thoughts, I think of a way to tone the conversation down.
“Your observation is wrong.”
“I am never wrong.” He chuckles. “You do that test and we’ll see how right I am.”
“Are you going to do a test?” I can imagine him being the kind of man to live in a brothel where he can eat, sleep, drink, and breathe women.
Anatoli straightens and I’m able to breathe properly again.
“I’m clean. I don’t need a test. It’s you who needs to follow my rules, not me.”
“But I’m clean too.” I’m as clean as could be.
“I need to be sure. I don’t want to catch anything my brother might have given you. Unless he hasn’t gone there yet.”
I should tell him I’m a virgin, but I don’t. I noticed earlier that any talk of Mikhail irritates him, so I decide to piss him off a little more.
“Oh we’ve gone there many times.” I imbue my voice with strength I don’t feel.
When that darkness drifts into his eyes, I realize I’m right.
But what in the ever-loving fuck did I just do? I got carried away and lied. If I can’t get myself out of this mess-and it’s not looking like I will-he’ll know the truth soon enough.
“I guess that’s all the more reason for you to go to the doctor.”
The sound of someone clearing their throat has us turning toward the door.
The sultry silver-blue eyes of a tall model-like woman with long straight hair stares at me. She’s wearing an elegant black strapless jumpsuit and her makeup is perfect enough to allow her to stand in line with the Kardashians in a photoshoot. I peg her to be in her mid to late twenties. She’s the woman from yesterday. I didn’t see a whole lot of her then but recognize the little daisy tattooed on her wrist.
In the few seconds it takes for her gaze to flick from my face to Anatoli’s, I learn a few things. One is that she doesn’t like this situation any more than I do, presumably because of her recognizable interest in Anatoli. The next thing is her standoffish, scrutinizing attitude-and she hasn’t even said anything yet.
“I’m ready when you are,” she tells Anatoli.
When he nods, she walks away, but not without glancing back at me first.
“Who is that?” I ask. I shouldn’t bother myself, but I want to know.
I look back at Anatoli and wait for his answer.
He pushes to his feet. “That’s Gytha. My assistant.”
Assistant?
I wonder what she assists him in doing exactly. I doubt it’s paperwork.
“See you later, Valkyrie. Don’t do anything stupid.” He gives me a thin smile, then leaves to join Gytha.
I shouldn’t feel the stab of annoyance burrowing its way into me, but I do.
Ehlga returns with a tray of pastries. I notice straight away that her face seems less harsh than earlier, and I guess she must have heard a thing or two.
“I thought you might like these.” She waves her hand over the rows of croissants and pain au chocolats.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“I’m glad. Eat up, and I’ll show you around in about an hour.”
I nod. When she leaves, I get my phone out.
My heart shrinks away when I see how many messages I’ve received. There are over twenty.
The bulk are from Lorelai and a few from my other friends, all of them wanting to know what’s happening. The most heartfelt message, however, came from Mikhail. He said he was sorry he couldn’t stop me from being taken.
I send Lorelai a message and decide to wait to respond to Mikhail. Since I’m only allowed one message to him, I need to make it count and say all the things I need to say to arrange when we can meet, and essentially say goodbye.
There’s nothing from my father, but I know he can’t contact me.
I eat the pastries then fall into a slump of going through the motions when Ehlga starts giving me the tour of my new prison.
Although the grounds of Anatoli’s home are truly beautiful, I’m not paying attention to anything, and I’m sure Ehlga knows. There’s no way she thinks I’m sufficiently okay to act like I’m on a school trip when the truth is looming over my head.
We walk along the beach-which I was right is private and enclosed between the walls of the cliff so you can’t see what’s on the other side.
From here there’s nothing for miles and miles but the sea.
I might be a good prisoner, but that doesn’t mean I’m not looking for a way out.
I’m looking through the woods for a passage, at the sky for the heavens to open up and take me, and the ground to swallow me whole.
I’m looking at any and everything because I’ve never felt so unsettled and ensnared in my life. But of course my heart sinks as I find nothing but the truth telling me I’m trapped here. Even if I did find a way out, my defiance would get Dad killed.
Ehlga takes me to the top of the cliff and starts talking about the Savannah Sparrows and Larks that come by during the summer. When she points to the ivy-covered stone walls between the garden and the cliff, every muscle in my body goes rigid as my gaze lands on a crest of a wolf’s head and a crescent-shaped moon next to it, carved into the stone.
My eyes bulge and I wonder if I’ve slipped into another nightmare because this is the only other place I’ve seen this particular crest.
I stop short and gaze at it, goosebumps crawling down my skin. My mind flip-flops assessing the design and contemplating the possibility that I could be mistaken.
But I know I’m not. And I’m awake. What I’m looking at is real.
It’s just that, this thing is not something I remember seeing anywhere in real life.
Closing my eyes, I tap into the horrific scenes that have been plaguing my mind for years and there I find the crest carved into a dark surface, like a door or a wall. I’ve just never been able to determine so before because the monsters rush out of the shadows and kill me.
Warm fingers tap my shoulder and my eyes snap open.
Ehlga stares back at me with concern filling her pale gray eyes.
“Are you okay, dear?” she asks. “You’ve gone pale.”
“Um…” I stutter, unsure what to say because, no, I’m not okay. Not by a long shot.
Up until now, I’d believed everything in my nightmares was figments of my imagination. Now that one of them is staring right back at me, I can’t help but question if this is something from my missing memories.
But this is the first time I’ve been to this house. And the crest I see in my nightmares is the same, same design, just smaller and darker.
“Avrora?”
I steady my thoughts and look back at Ehlga. Maybe I could ask her about the crest. “Ehlga, that crest over there.” I point to it. “Can you tell me about it?”
“Of course. It’s one of the Butyrskaya family crests.”
“Butyrskaya?” I don’t know anybody by that name and I’ve never heard of them either. “Were they part of the Knights?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know them?”
“No. Anatoli’s mother worked for them as a live-in maid. This was where they all lived before moving to Russia.”
“So this is their house?”
“Yes, because he and his mother were so close to them, he bought the house and even decided to keep most of their things.”
Wow, she’s told me more about Anatoli in those few words than he has.
“Isn’t he in contact with them anymore?” Maybe I could speak to them.
Ehlga shakes her head. “I’m afraid not, dear. They all died many years ago.”
“Oh.” Disappointment squeezes my stomach.
I look back at the crest, taking in the intricate design. It’s as real as I am standing here.
So… what else is real inside my nightmares?