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I don’t have time to tell him about Lucien and my feelings, or to argue with myself that this isn’t what I want. Elias kisses me with a heated urgency that I welcome and return.
My arms wrap around his neck, the back of my pants dragging through the warm pool water as they engulf him.
My heels dig into his ass.
Before I know it, I’m fully clothed and in the pool, Elias holding me to him like I’m his life raft. My forgotten coffee is tipped on its side, its caramel color creating a cloud as it mixes with the chlorinated water.
“Elias,” I manage, pulling back. “Lucien.”
Elias looks around, breathless. Pride fills my body because I caused his exasperation. “Where? I don’t see him. Trust me, petit corbeau, he sees us.”
His tone is teasing, light, as if he knows Lucien would relish what we’re up to.
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
He narrows his gaze on me. “You don’t, do you? That’s a first.”
“What?!”
“Nothing. Let’s get you back inside and changed into some dry clothes.”
He drops me onto my feet, and I feel far less buoyant than when he was the one holding me.
I’m filled with regret for saying anything; after all, they did mention they all wanted me.
But this isn’t a typical situation, and I don’t want to ruin anything with any of them, especially Lucien.
The fact that I’m so attached to a man I’ve never seen in person, one who seems to have captivated my heart without logic, worries me, but I can’t help it.
It’s as if he’s the estate, feeding on my trauma, on my dark past that I’ve been trying to outrun for years.
I don’t have to run anymore. I’m safe.
Hours later, I’m blow-drying my hair when the room goes dark, everything shutting off in a snap of electrical failure that makes me jump when the GFI on the bathroom plug pops.
Heart pounding, I tentatively peer out of the bathroom. “Hello?”
The creaking of my door sounds slowly, menacingly, and I back into the bathroom’s darkness, leaving the door ajar enough to see a shadow splay on the floor as it approaches.
It’s not one of the guys; they walk with purposeful, heavy, quick footsteps you can feel as well as hear.
“Please, leave me alone.” My voice shakes as a hand curls around the doorframe.
It’s whiter than snow, with barely any flesh left on its gnarled fingers as it taps against the wood.
In the mirror, there’s nothing.
No reflection of whatever hellish creature has blocked me in my bathroom.
A soft song filters through the crack, as if the woman behind the haunting hand is no more frightening than a refreshing breeze.
“Sera?”
My name’s called from within my room, but I’m paralyzed with fear, staring at the hand as if it’ll leap at me at any moment.
“Please,” I breathe. “Go away.”
“Hey, Sera—” The voice halts.
