Irode in the passenger seat of the luxurious GMC Yukon. Compared to my small car, this was a mansion. If I’d had this monstrosity to live in, it wouldn’t have felt so difficult. At least I could have stretched out properly.
Kyan had been driving for close to an hour, according to the time on the dash. At some point, he pulled onto a side street that led to a winding road, bracketed by tall trees covered with brown and orange leaves. He stared at the road with focus, taking a sharp left that opened up to a short path. Right smack in the middle was a huge wrought-iron fence that loomed in both directions and into the foliage. He slowed and reached up to tap the button clinging to the visor. With a creak, it slowly opened in the middle, the two gates moving at a decent pace. He revved through them.
Not knowing what would happen to me weighed on me more and more with each passing day, probing the thick shadows thatfell over my mind whenever I didn’t feel well. The sun hung high in the sky, spearing through the treetops.
Sinclair and Elias hadn’t said anything to me, and I hadn’t seen them before I left. For all I knew, that was the last I would ever see of them. The pang in my heart shouldn’t exist, but there it was, caused by some misguided desire. I ran my finger over the paper bag Kyan had given me, holding another two pairs of pajamas and panties that were sexier than the last clothes I’d been provided.
I peeked over at Kyan. He’d been pensive the entire drive, which worked for me. I didn’t want to talk. “What are those pink trees?” I squinted. “Cherry blossoms?”
“Western redbuds.”
They were closer to the ground, the branches sprawling outward with pink blooms. Between each oak tree there was one of the redbuds. Their home came into view. The road ended at the curving, pebbled drive.
Dark gray paint coated the outside, iron embellishments framing the windows and door.
“We have security detail on the grounds usually, but they won’t be here while you are. They usually surveil the surroundings from there.” He motioned to the left; far in the distance, between the trees, was a decent-sized shed. “You’re safe and have privacy here.”
It seemed like he was expecting a response, so I nodded.
He revved up a slight incline of the pebbled drive, allowing me a better view of the home. It extended in both directions. Sunlight drooped lower in the sky, casting a glare off the structure, seemingly half made of glass. The same redbud trees stretched up each side of the door frame.
The pebbles crunched under the tires, and he rolled to a stop. I scrubbed my palms on my thighs, hesitant to get out.
Intimidation emanated from the chic, dark-toned home. Kyan had already exited, rounding the vehicle to my side, a frown on his face. I hurried to open it before he got to me and hopped out with my paper bag, my sandals sinking into the ground.
The place had to be more than eight thousand square feet. Just the house. Kyan reached to take my hand, but suddenly froze, his eyes widening and whipping to mine.
I slowly raised an eyebrow, and he pressed his lips together and forcibly turned, his shoulders tight under his black T-shirt.
“Hurry up,” he barked, his tone seething withdominance. I jolted forward.
“There’s no need to use your Alpha Bark,” I snapped, stepping into the main entrance that became a hallway. Wasn’t like I had anywhere else to go.
Black-and-white checkered tile enhanced the echo of our steps. He passed the entrance to a living room and kept going. On the left was another entrance into a kitchen, attached to a dining area.
“Wow,” I muttered, turning back to where he stood, patiently waiting for me to catch up. I hurried over and slowed as I entered the wide circular space. Tall doors faced me, four of them, but he didn’t stop. Kyan continued to the hall opposite this one, leading me to the door at the end of the hall.
“You’ll stay here.” He motioned. I turned the knob to a bedroom with a huge mattress fashioned with clean gray sheets atop an umber bedframe. Five feet spanned the distance from the top of the smooth headboard to the slim, rectangular window above it. I passed a five-drawer wardrobe with a section on the side for hanging clothes. A bathroom peeked through the open alcove.
“I’m going to go finish some budgeting spreadsheets,” Kyan intoned. “The kitchen is fully stocked. You’re welcome toanything.” With that, he turned and closed the door, leaving me in silence.
After showingme to the bedroom, Kyan had left me alone. To my thoughts, fear, and remnant sadness. Sinclair’s defensiveness wouldn’t stop bouncing around my head.
Kyan and his weird reactions, too. I passed the intersection with all the doors, continued down the hall, and shuffled into the kitchen, sweeping a quick look at the tall, black paint of the pantries and doors, matching the table. The color scheme complemented all the wood-stained decor and appliances.
A glass door led to a huge yard, where the same material as the gate stretched a half-mile out. I backed up and walked into the living room. Another black leather couch and a carpet the same color. Good. I winced, thinking of the white rug with a bloodstain back at The Bordello.
Another transitional place that was more comfortable than the last, although with much less entertainment. I’d come to enjoy the dancing and fights that often broke out in the handful of days I’d been there.
Their place was huge, despite it only being one floor. There was nothing ‘homey’ here. No pictures, knick-knacks—literally nothing. As elegant as it was, it felt barren and cold.
The living room branched to the section of the house with a glass wall, and there was a sleek bar and pool table in the middle. With the sun dropping lower, it cast a beautiful yellow hue over the entertainment area. Adding a small desk in the corner where I could work—hold it right there.
Thoughts like that were useless. Where the fuck had they even come from? My pulse jumped in my throat.
I liked their attention on me. It was becoming an addiction. Getting out of the U.S. was quickly becoming more about running from this violent attraction than escaping the police.
I ran my hands through my air-dried hair, pushing frizzy strands back over my shoulder. A thud echoed down the hall. I gasped, whirling, expecting cops to come storming in . . . but the pounding started again. I shuffled down the hall, eyeing the door. It vibrated under the insistent knocking. Creeping closer until I peeked through the eye hole, I sucked in a breath. A woman stood there, her face red and blotchy, hair perfectly coiled into brunette ringlets.
