“Weren’t you told to stay put?” she questioned, not looking away from her screens.
“He’s obviously not here anymore. I’ll live,” I answered flatly, pushing through the doors.
The night air was crisp, and the street was quiet. All tourists and non-essential personnel were gone. I let my feet lead me, my mind too numb to care where I was going.
Owen was stressing me out, still refusing to go to a hospital, but allowed one of Marshall’s men, a medic, to bandage him up. He was pissed as hell that Grayson had managed to slip away again.
I found myself in the museum’s courtyard. A tented structure filled the large space. It was an art installation by students from a nearby university.
At the entrance of the tent was a hand-painted sign—Hall of Illusions.
I wandered inside, hoping whatever was in there, would keep my mind occupied. Walking straight past the reception area, I found myself in a round tunnel.
I had to stop for a second to find my balance. The tunnel spun around me at dizzying speeds. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in. The tunnel wasn’t really spinning. The ground was completely still.
I squinted my eyes open again, forcing my brain to recognise it as a lie. Lights, tumbling round and round, created the illusion.
I moved slowly, already regretting coming in here. My nerves were completely shot, and this wasn’t helping. But my feet carried me forward, towards the light. I climbed out of thetunnel and careened my neck in awe. The students didn’t mess around.
The room was staged with giant furniture, looking completely real, making me feel like a little Alice in Wonderland. I stepped around a giant coke can, sitting next to the enormous couch. It would be a struggle to climb on top of it. I walked underneath the glass coffee table, seeing the underside of one of my favourite books through the glass, as well as a coffee cup, and coffee stains. That had me smiling. Such attention to detail. It must have taken them all year to create these props.
I moved on to the next room that had me feeling slightly nauseous. The room was tilted but looked completely level. I walked through it at an angle, fighting with my brain to recognise the play on lines that created the illusion of a normal room. I was glad to be out of there.
The next room was dim, the walls filled with beautiful artwork. It was obvious that more than one artist had been involved in this room, with the styles of painting so varied. There was a basket by the door filled with torches. Curiously, I picked one up and turned it on. It was a blacklight. I shined it on the nearest painting of a cute little chihuahua, watching the painting change before my eyes, morphing the little dog into a blood-thirsty wolf.
I chuckled in surprised delight. How beautiful!
I moved on to the next painting, then the next, mesmerised by the hidden nature of the pictures, revealed with the blacklight.
I came to a halt in front of a beautiful woman, head tilted towards the moon, mesmerised by its light. It shone down on her, making her skin glow where it touched her. I lifted the blacklight over her. The woman changed, levitating in the air, completely naked, long hair whipping all around her. She had a serene smile on her face, eyes closed, except for the third one on her forehead. It glowed brightly, radiating an even brighter light than the moon.
“Beautiful,” I whispered, stroking my fingers over the painting. It called to a part of me I had thought was gone.
I gasped as the weight of his presence barrelled into me. I tried to swivel but was swiftly caged against the wall.
“Shh, shh, shh, keep calm, nightingale,” he whispered against my ear as a blade dug into my throat. “You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself.”
The room tilted beneath me, my senses bombarded withhim. His voice, his smell, the feel of his body pressed against my back, his dark, smoky presence, drowning me.
“You didn’t think I’d leave without saying hello, did you? You flew all this way, little bird.”
“Are you here to cut my tongue out too?” My voice was shaky, betraying the hurricane of emotions whirling through my body.
He chuckled darkly. “Are you scared?” he whispered, then his voice dropped low, as he trailed a calloused finger down my cheek. “Clever girl.”
“Don’t touch me.” I tried to twist away from his hand, but he dug the knife deeper into my throat, and I stilled. The blade left a stinging line where it had cut into my skin.
“So we’re back to that, hmm?” he mocked, trailing his fingers down the side of my body. “You forget yourself, Princess. You swore yourself to me. Against the side of my car. Right before you came on my cock. Remember that? Down to your fucking soul, baby. All of you.Mine,” he sneered as he slipped his fingers underneath my shirt, digging them into the scar on my hip. “Together or death, remember?” he purred. “Should I keep that promise?” He kept his voice light-hearted, but I knew better. I could feel the intensity of his anger radiating from him, barely contained. I could feel it in the tremors rocking through his body. The way his hand twitched around his knife like he had to restrain himself from cutting into me. I knew all this, because Ihad been his. For a short while, he had been my universe, and I had been his.
And he was right. It was true. Even now, aftereverything, my body had relaxed against his, like it was in the presence of an old friend. My heart had lurched beneath my ribcage at the sound of his voice, like a fucking puppy trying to reach its owner through a fence. My traitorous thighs clenched, practically begging for his all too familiar touch, like they were starved.Fuck!Even if I hated it and screamed my defiance to the heavens, I was still his.
“Tell me, Princess, did the guy you fucked feel as disappointing as he looked? Could he make you scream his name like I can? Did your sweet cunt weep for him, like it does for me? Could he even make you come?” Grayson laughed coldly.
My body stiffened, turning ice cold. How did he know about that? There was no one on the beach anywhere near us. I made sure of it. How did he know?
His lips pressed against my ear. “Maybe… hmmm,” his low hum slithered through my body, “maybe, while he was railing you like a fucking madman, all you could think about wasme.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I scoffed, hoping he couldn’t hear the lie in my voice.
