“You’re a little warm, but the pill will take effect soon.”
“W-what pill?” Oh my God. Did he already start poisoning me?
“Painkillers. The family doctor came to look at you earlier and prescribed it. He also said the bruise at the back of your head isn’t serious and will eventually disappear.”
Now that he’s mentioned it, something tingles beneath my hair at my nape. It’s from when I was hit, but I’ve forgotten about all of that. Compared to the real danger hovering over me, that one doesn’t even register.
Is it sad that I consider an attack less dangerous than this situation? Probably, but my brain has been trained for survival, so immediate danger always gets my attention first.
“Can I sleep? It must be late, right?”
“Three in the morning.”
“You brought the doctor over this late?”
“It’s his job, and he knew my demands when he agreed to become the family doctor.”
“Is there anyone you consider a human instead of something you buy?” I don’t know why I asked the question when my main focus should be to get him the hell out of here.
“You.” The word, although calmly spoken, sets every part of me on fire. Not only my cheeks and my chest, but also the thing that’s thumping loudly inside said chest.
“You already bought me,” I murmur.
“That’s what I thought, too. Turns out, it’s far from the truth.” He straightens, and I hate how I mourn the loss of his proximity and the way I cling to his airy, sensual scent.
It’ll all go away with time. I have to believe that.
“Go to sleep.” His voice is soothing, warm. Probably the warmest I’ve heard from him. “I’ll be here.”
“No, you don’t have to —”
“I’ll stay. No negotiations,” he cuts me off. “Besides, you will tell me why the fuck you went back there.”
“I just want to be alone.”
“We all know what happened the last time you were left alone, so the answer to that is no.” His features harden, darkening by the second. He shoves a hand in his pocket and when he speaks again, his voice is on the verge of breaking all hell loose, “The thought of what that fucker could’ve done if we hadn’t come in time…”
He trails off as if the words fail him to describe that possibility.
A shiver grabs me by the throat at the thought of what could’ve happened. Would I even be sleeping here if that black shadow had gotten what it wanted? They tried to bury me alive in the past, so maybe they wanted to finish what they started this time.
Jonathan drops onto the chair. “I’m staying.”
Shit.
He really is, and I really need to go. I don’t know where, but I’ll figure it out as soon as I’m out of here.
I always do.
My mind goes into overdrive trying to think of ways to get him to leave. Water and a covered bowl of what I assume is soup sit on the bedside table, so I can’t ask for either of those.
Think, Aurora, think!
“My pillow,” I blurt.
Jonathan is still watching me with that unnerving focus that makes me feel like I’m under a researcher’s microscope. “What’s wrong with your pillow?”
“I want the one from your room. This one isn’t soft.”
“You used to sleep on it just fine.”
“That was a long time ago. I’m not used to it anymore.” Then I speak in a slightly bratty tone, going for the low blow, “My head hurts.”
That works.
He stands, but instead of leaving, he leans over and brushes his lips against my forehead. A shock wave grips my limbs and it takes everything in me not to melt. That’s…that’s the first time he’s ever done something like that.
There’s an unrivalled intimacy about a forehead kiss — the feeling of his lips on my skin, the care in it.
God. Why is he doing that now of all times?
“I’m glad I was there before you were hurt badly. Doesn’t mean I’m letting it go, though.” He straightens, expression blank. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch his retreating form, even after the door closes behind him. The skin where he kissed me still tingles, burning and sending me all the wrong signals.
Shaking my head, I jump up. The world starts tilting, but I plant my feet wide apart until the dizziness slowly retreats.
I don’t have time to waste. Jonathan will return soon, and I can’t be around when he does.
Since the door doesn’t have a lock, courtesy of the tyrant, I push the coffee table against it. My palms sting and blood soaks the bandages, but I don’t stop until it’s firmly fixed against the door.
I shove my feet into the first pair of shoes I see and quickly make a rope out of any sheets I can find.
Using the front door is out. Jonathan is the type of freak who has cameras in the hallways, and since I’m sure there’s someone who’s watching them at all times, there’s no doubt they’ll catch me.
My balcony, however, overlooks the garden from where the staff’s back entrance is visible. During my snooping sessions, I didn’t find any blinking cameras around here.
After securing the rope to the foot of the bed and testing that it can carry my weight, I throw it down. It doesn’t reach the ground, but it’s close enough. I’ll take anything that shortens the distance of my fall.
This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. I escaped this way from many motels in Scotland. Oftentimes, I had no money to pay for the night, and there was no way in hell I was going to sleep on the streets or in parks where anyone could find and attack me.
After I grew up, I sent those motels cheques, but at the time, jumping from second and third floors were part of my everyday life. I’m a bit out of practice, but I can make it.
The doorknob moves, and I stiffen.
He’s back.
Not that I didn’t suspect he would be, but shit, it’s too soon. I have to do it now.
“Aurora. Open up!” His voice booms from the other side and then a bang sounds at the door from his attempt to shove it open.
My spine snaps upright as if it’s about to break.
It’s now or never.
I grab the end of the rope and just like that, I jump.
My hands and legs wrap around the sheet in a lethal grip as I slowly slip towards the ground. I don’t look down, because that will fill me with fear worse than what’s already whirling inside me.
It takes me longer than I’m used to in my mission to slide down the rope. Part because Jonathan’s freaking mansion is too high and part because it’s been a long time since I last did this.
My palms scream in pain, blood soaks the sheets, and my knees burn as the early morning cold air hits me in my bones.
By the time I reach the end of the sheets, my legs dangling down and my hands gripping it tightly, I know I have no choice but to jump.
It’s a steep one, and my legs will fucking hurt. But if I do it right, I won’t break any bones. Hopefully.
Though a broken bone would be worth it if it means I’ll be out of here.
Inhaling a deep breath, I close my eyes and let go.
This is it.
I’m free and alive and no one will take those from me.