“Either do it, you arrogant, barbaric asshole,” I said between clenched teeth, “or let me go.” Then I held my breath, and I prayed he chose the latter.
The seconds felt like minutes. Boom, boom, boom. Blood pumped through my head. Swallowed by the power of them, I felt remarkably small and vulnerable. Not quite as helpless as a prisoner strapped to the bed in an execution chamber, but near enough. Sweat slithered down my back. I couldn’t fight. It would be pointless. I could only hold my ground. So I did. I stared at him, enraged and desperately afraid and waited for what felt like an eternity.
His eyes explored mine as if he was digging into the furthest reaches of my mind and he was not quite able to uncover the mysterious dialogue of some ancient civilisation.
With a grimace, and what I thought looked like regret on his face, he took a step back and in a blur of speed he was back by the fireplace.
I exchanged glances with Ethan. His eyes were dark, furious lakes, and they were directed firmly at me.
My gut twisted so tight it pushed my heart up into my throat. Glass was everywhere, I didn’t dare move, even though every instinct told me to flee.
“Move her, Ethan,” Karson ordered on a thick, annoyed breath.
The black in Ethan’s eyes inverted and threaded inwards and they went back to midnight blue. Now he looked at me with what looked like a concoction of frustration, an apology, and seeking permission.
“Just do it,” I snapped.
He placed his hands around my waist and lifted me up, like I weighed no more than a doll. Glass tumbled off my feet and clinked to the floor. He placed me down on the stairs. Humiliated, boiling with fury, I stormed up the stairs to the sounds of Monique's laughter. The hallway light flickered and blew with a loud snap as I passed, as if the energy of my anger penetrated its fragile opaque shell.
Perfect timing.
I wished Monique's head was that light.
“Well, I do believe you may have finally met your match, Karson.” Michael’s voice was full of humour, fading as I exited the stairs.
If only it were true, despite my attempts I knew I was no match for him. The tears of humiliation, rage and helplessness slipped down my cheeks. I slammed the door so hard the pictures on my bedroom wall shook. I fell down on the bed.
I was caught in a strange world I couldn’t understand, beset with indifference to brutality and violence. I stared up at the ceiling. But worse than that, I found myself feeling just like I had my whole life. Feeling like I didn’t belong, lost. I might as well have been in a cave, fumbling my way through an endless dark without a torch, with no idea of which direction the light lay in.
I was overcome with a sense of loneliness, it coiled around my heart and squeezed so tight it was almost unbearable.
Shattered by the events of the night, I cried myself to sleep.
Chapter 48
You Belong
Atap on the door dragged me from the drowsiness of sleep. I laid still, too tired to open my eyes. Too tired to answer. If I stayed quiet, whoever it was might go away. My head throbbed with a dehydration ache, my mouth felt dry and my stomach felt seedy. I had a mild hangover. I didn’t want to face anyone right now, I just wanted to go back to sleep.
“Amy,” Ethan said from behind the closed door. “Amy, can I come in?” There was a pause, then he said, “I know you’re awake, I can hear you breathing.”
I made a mental note to do something about his eardrums. Rip them out maybe. I groaned, forced my eyes open and rubbed them with the back of my hand, blinking slowly, fighting to keep them open. Moonlight speared through the window and the night lamp, shaped like half a moon—the most non-childish one I could find in the store—shone dully from the wall. Gradually the night shadows peeled into focus. A light rain pitter-pattered on the window.
“Of course I’m awake, you knocked on my door and woke me.” I yawned, rolled my head to the side, and glanced at the clock. It was 4 a.m.
Ethan opened the door. His silhouette, backlit by the hallway light, cast his face into darkness. Broad shoulders, fine hips, lingered silently like a shadow puppet. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“Couldn’t you have waited till morning?” I blinked several times into the light behind him.
He moved in and stood by the bed. “I heard you crying earlier, I . . .”
I was mortified, I was sure I cried in silence. Just how good was their hearing “What—you heard? Did everyone hear?”
He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me with sympathy, he didn’t need to tell me they had. Dismayed, I rubbed my hands over my face.
“Karson sent Monique to stay at the bar, Michael’s staying here. I waited until he went to sleep to come and see you.” As if that made things better. I scanned his face. A few drops of rain sprinkled his hair, and his face was flushed from the wind.
I pulled myself into a seated position, a flare of frustration whipped though my veins. “Is there nothing I can do in private when I live with you?”
