“Sanora!”
My brain froze.
He knew my name?
My thoughts scrambled, clawing through questions, but before I could piece anything together, he spoke again, voice urgent now. “I’m coming in.”
How? How will you come in when the door is locked?
The words didn’t come out. I couldn’t say them. I couldn’t even open my eyes.
I could only feel. Could only feel the pain as it tore me apart, could only feel the tears sliding down my face, could only feel as my body begged for mercy.
But suddenly, I could feel the shift in the air.
Then arms, strong and solid, slid under me, lifting me and pulling me into the searing heat of his body.
My mind screamed to fight.
But by some mysterious miracle, the pain started to vanish. It dissolved the moment he held me, like he’d sucked it right out of me and into his body. I felt it recede, leaving behind a dull ache that was no longer unbearable.
My face pressed into his chest that radiated heat like a hearth in the dead of winter, too weak to protest. And the last thing I felt, before my mind was swallowed by sleep, was the rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek—heavy, strong, and far too rapid for a man whose plan was to kill me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SANORA
The sound of something sizzling slipped into my unconsciousness and yanked me out. I jerked upright, gasping as though I’d been pulled from the bottom of a lake, lungs desperate for air.
My hand flew to my chest, where my heartbeat thudded like a warning drum. I breathed out, heavy and uneven, the memory of passing out crawling back through the haze.
I blinked around the room, disoriented. I was in my bed, a blanket tucked around me. The floor, which had been buried in an avalanche of books and papers, was now clean.
The box I’d dragged out earlier had been zipped and pushed against the wall, right where it used to be.
Of course.
He’d tidied everything up again.
A groan of quiet frustration left me as I rubbed my hands over my face. Why was he always doing this? I didn’t ask him to clean up after me, didn’t even want him in my space. And yet, every time I got knocked out, he was always there.
My gaze flicked to the door. The memory of how he got in returning. Giving the door a careful look, I realised it wasn’t damaged. Not even the knob. There was no scratch, no forced entry.
Could he have a spare key to my room?
Since he paid more money?
I stared at it a little longer, unease curling inside me. Before my thoughts could spiral and have me panicking again, I gave myself a dull smack on the side of the head and shoved off the bed.
I walked to the window, needing distraction.
Far outside, the hills curled protectively around The Crater like sleeping beasts. Fog clung to their ridges, thick and white, curling like smoke from a dying fire. Even from here, the hills loomed massively.
The tug came again
This one was a gentle pull from my ribs, no longer the piercing pain from before, more like a beckon. Like The Crater was touching me.
I laid my hand over the spot, pressing my palm to the faint itch that pulsed beneath my skin.
