Along the far wall runs a row of closed doors. Maybe his bedroom, a bathroom, or a kitchen? I have no idea.
On instinct, I move toward the piano.
My eyes lock on the keys, then on the sheet music spread out across the top. It doesn’t look printed, more like something handwritten. Could it be one of Snow’s own compositions?
The alpha slowly walks over to the piano and sits down.
He doesn’t say a word. I just know he isn’t much of a talker. You can feel it. There’s a kind of minimalism about him.
It’s a bit strange, I barged in here uninvited, walked straight into the middle of the room, leaned against his piano, and gave no explanation. But Snow doesn’t seem put off or annoyed by my behavior. He simply settles comfortably at the piano and… starts playing.
Did he just write this?
The notes flow from his fingers.
Wait, it sounds somewhat familiar; it resonates… Did he write it for me?
The music is beautiful and intense. Deep. Something breaks inside my mind like a surge of energy, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
It’s coming back, it’s coming back… again! So it’s true!
Snow is trying to help me recover my memory.
The vision forms, the faces appear: Lake, Ragnar, Sun, gathered around the table… soon I’ll hear the full story Sun told yesterday, since what happened to me is part of it too… But I already know that it will be too much. I can’t handle it now.
It’s a story of kidnapping, violence, and abuse.
"Don’t!"
I protest, pushing through the pain, and stop the flood of images with my willpower, frantically shaking my head.
Then I open my eyes and lock onto Snow’s gaze.
The music also fades away.
I slowly slide onto the couch near the piano, while he’s still sitting in the chair beside it. My fingers splay across the couch as if I’m trying to hold on for dear life, but they find only smooth fabric.
The world feels shaky.
That dull ache at the back of my mind, which has been there all along, starts to rise.
I try to speak but can’t, of course. As before, only a long, rasping breath escapes. I would have to push a lot more, to the point of physical pain, to force the words out. Or scream, like I just did. And I don’t want that.
"Is it too much? Too early?"
His voice makes me shiver slightly, and I nod.
Snow rises slowly and walks toward me. He’s so tall and so… athletic. 6’7’’? The power hidden in his body is palpable, and I find it magnetic. The problem is I can’t act on this, not now. Not while being a mess.
So I will my pulse down.
As he stops in front of me, I tilt my head back to look up at him. His eyes hide something mysterious, a subtle silence that seems to saturate everything around us.
Then he slowly lowers himself, kneeling right in front of me, his chiseled stomach almost touching my legs.
Unsure how to react, I swallow hard. Maybe I should be afraid?
After all, I’m alone with a strong male in his prime.
