by Kallysten
“Unless you need anything else, I’ll leave you to your dinner before it gets cold.”
He left without another word. Yet again, I had more questions and no one to get answers from. I thought about writing down a list, and next time Mr. Ward asked if I needed something, I could shove it in his face.
I ate in the sitting room. The soup was a classic—tomato basil—but there was a twist to it, some ingredient that added heat without making it too spicy. It was delicious, as were the toasted triangles of brioche. Like at lunch, I had a glass of water and another one of wine, and dessert was more of that delicious chocolate cake. The thought fluttered through my mind that I’d need a few more minutes of exercise to make up for the cake… but it wasn’t like I could go for a run or to the gym.
It was a nice meal. It would have been even better with someone to share it with. I would have to try again. If Stephen really wanted to cook for me, then fine, I would let him, but maybe if I pushed enough he would take his meals with me. And maybe if he did, I could get more information from him about Mr. Ward.
I now knew he’d had a human guest in the past; had the circumstances been the same as mine? He had mentioned something about Miss Delilah’s gifts. Had she played this game before?
Call me crazy, but I felt a little miffed at the thought I wasn’t the first one. Or the only one.
And I was more than a little scared to learn how my predecessors’ stay in Mr. Ward’s care had ended.
When I was done, I returned to my computer, intending to call my parents. Instead, a flashing icon let me know that someone was trying to contact me. Someone whose nickname was ‘Lilah_1753.’
Later, I wondered about that screen name. Was ‘Lilah’ Miss Delilah’s actual name rather than the nickname I’d believed it to be? What did 1753 mean? Was it a date? January 7th 1953? Or was it just a year? The year of her birth, maybe? It was a while before I dared ask Mr. Ward those questions.
At that moment, though, I didn’t stop to think about anything. I only hoped.
I held my breath and clicked the flashing icon. Miss Delilah’s image came up.
“Hello, Lina dear. How is Morgan treating you?”
“Please let me go. Miss Delilah, please, I—”
“Let you go?” she cut in with an exaggerated look of surprise. “Oh, Lina, don’t tell me my brother hasn’t been taking good care of you. I know he can be a little prickly at times, but he’s really quite the charmer when you get to know him.”
“But I don’t want to get to know him. Please, you’ve had your fun, let me go.”
“My fun?” She laughed, throwing her head back. “Oh, we’re only starting.”
I should have known.
I should have realized that talking to her like this, watching her perfectly made-up lips and eyes on the screen could be dangerous. I’ve kicked myself mentally a thousand times about it. And even if I didn’t get it right away, when she leaned forward so that her eyes filled the screen, I should have guessed. I should have shut down the computer. Closed it. Muted her words.
Anything rather than let her say, “Listen closely, Lina. Tonight, you will share a bed with Morgan.”
“You can’t do that!”
I blurted out the words before I could even think.
“Excuse me?” Miss Delilah’s plucked eyebrows rose in surprise. “I thought you were questioning my orders, but that can’t be right. It wasn’t a suggestion. You will sleep in his bed, or something very bad will happen. Something like your heart beating faster and faster until it just gives up. Or your lungs suddenly failing to process air. Or your body being completely paralyzed until you do as you are told. It varies, but it’s never pleasant. So please, do be careful. We don’t want anything bad happening to you, do we?”
I gripped the edge of the desk with both hands. My heart was beating faster, and I wasn’t sure if that was an effect of the compulsion or simply my anger.
“Why would you care? You told him to kill me!”
Someone off screen said something I couldn’t make out, and her gaze briefly drifted to the side. She nodded once before looking back at me. Behind her, through a bay window, I could see lights. And not just any lights: the lights that line up the Eiffel Tower and make its shape as distinctive at night as it is during the day.
“No,” she said, drawing my attention back to her. “I did not tell him to kill you. I merely mentioned a few things he might do. It’s been a while since my brother killed anyone. I seriously doubt he’ll break his vow for you. Now be a good girl and remember what I said. You’ll be sleeping with him tonight.”
I recognized her tone of voice and the intensity of her gaze. She was compelling me again.
“No.”
Voicing that one word took every ounce of strength of will I had.
I didn’t know how I even managed to say that word. Was it because she was behind a computer screen rather than right in front of me? Did it diminish the power she had on me? Or maybe, having been under her compulsion already, I was building up a tolerance to it? Maybe I was even learning to fight it back, and with time I’d get beyond her order not to leave the Ward mansion. I liked that last option a lot.
What I liked a lot less, however, was how my breath suddenly hitched in my throat.
It wasn’t the same as the previous night when I had realized I had broken her order to be nice to her brother. That time, I simply couldn’t breathe, not any more than if I’d been under water. This time, there was air around me, and I could get to it, but I had to work hard for it. In seconds, I was breathing heavily, and sweat was already beading on my forehead.
“Don’t you get it?” Miss Delilah said with a small sigh. “You don’t have a choice. Come on, Lina. Don’t make this harder on yourself than it needs to be.”
If I could have replied, I’d have told her that, no, I wouldn’t go to anyone’s bed just because my boss was ordering me to. I’d have told her I quit. I’d have said… I don’t know. I’d have said no, again, that much was certain. But I couldn’t spare enough breath for words. I remembered all too well what it had felt like to slip into darkness from the lack of oxygen the previous night. I was terrified it would happen again. And this time, no one was there to save me. But I still refused to obey.
If Mr. Ward had been nicer to me when I’d gone to thank him, maybe…
No, not even then.
It’s not that I wanted to die, of course not. But what was my life worth if I didn’t have control over anything, from where I lived to whom I slept with? Call me stubborn. Call me crazy. I held on to the desk, struggled to breathe or even remain upright, but I didn’t yield.
Moments passed. An entire lifetime. My ears were buzzing a little, but I could hear Miss Delilah’s voice again. She wasn’t talking to me. I blinked a few times until I could focus on the screen again. She wasn’t in front of her computer anymore. Instead, she stood in front of the window in the back of the room, looking out at the night in Paris. She was talking into a phone.
“Hello, Morgan. Why do I have this feeling—”
She sighed into the phone.
“No, I can’t tell you that, and you should know better than to ask. Why can’t you just be thankful for my gift?”
After a brief pause, she laughed.
“You don’t give up, do you? Where I am is none of your concern. What should concern you is where Angelina is. And what’s happening to her right now.”
She came back to the computer then and did something so that the angle shifted, now straight up rather than horizontal. She looked at me as she said, “Well, since you’re asking, she’s turning a rather alarming shade of purple. I asked her to do one little thing for me, and she thought she’d say no. As you can imagine—”
Whatever he said to her, she shook her head. “Ask her yourself.”
She frowned, then shrugged. “Fine. I told her she’d sleep in your bed tonight. With you in it, or it’s cheating.”
She was still looking down at
me, her frown deepening even more. “Of course I can’t force you,” she said, still talking into the phone. “It’s up to you what you decide to do. But decide soon because she looks like she’s about to pass out.”
Her image was becoming a little fuzzy on the screen as she hung up the call. Well, really, everything was becoming a little fuzzy. I closed my eyes for a second or two. When I opened them again, the video chat window was empty, showing only a gray ceiling. I was alone. Alone with the pounding in my ears, the cold sweat running down my back, and the fear gripping my heart.
Was this how I would die? Alone in a room I’d been forced to live in, trapped by orders coming from thousands of miles away?
When I heard a door open outside the bedroom and hurried steps, I knew at once who was coming. And even if he’d been rude, even if he scared me, even if I absolutely did not want to spend the night with him, part of me was overjoyed that Mr. Ward had come to help.
I almost fell off the chair when he tugged it away from the desk to get a look at me. He caught me, his hand gentle as it gripped my shoulder and kept me in my seat. His eyes roamed my face, and he swore under his breath. Or at least, I assume he swore. By the tone of his voice and the anger he put in those two syllables, it sounded like a swearword. It just wasn’t any language I knew.
“Angelina. Can you hear me?”
I tried to nod, but my head sort of flopped to one side. The next thing I knew, he was picking me up and carrying me out of my suite. I could guess where he was taking me, of course.
“Don’t… want.”
My body felt as heavy as lead, but I managed to move a little in his arms. He held me closer to his chest, and as hard as it was to breathe, I could smell his intoxicating scent, a hint of cologne and something masculine and enticing and so very much him.
“Neither do I,” he said without looking down at me. “But it doesn’t look like either of us has a choice. Unless you want me to let you die?”
No, I didn’t want to be left to die, but at the same time I couldn’t let him think he had a free pass to my body.
“Please. Don’t force—”
Don’t force me to have sex was what I meant to say, but he looked down at me, and when our gazes met, I lost my voice. His eyes were full to the brim with anger, but somehow I knew, even in the state of agitation I was in, that he wasn’t mad at me. He was angry for the same reason I was, and his anger was directed toward the same person: Miss Delilah.
“I won’t force you to do anything,” he said in a low, growling voice. “I won’t lay a finger on you. Lilah told you to sleep in my bed, didn’t she? So that’s what will happen. That’s all that will happen. Sleep.”
Could I believe him? I wanted to, but I was also afraid to. In my state, if he wanted to take advantage of me, there really wasn’t much I could do to stop him, which wasn’t a pleasant realization.
And yes, I know, I’d had naughty thoughts about him. There had even been that shared X-rated fantasy in which we’d done a lot more than ‘sleep’ together. But fantasizing about him was very different from being compelled to have sex with him. I’ve had fantasies about a few movie stars or artists over the years, but I’d never get in their bed if the occasion presented itself. Not without a few dates and clear mutual attraction. Just like I would never have had sex with Mr. Ward on that balcony in reality. Or at least not mere minutes after we’d met.
In moments, we reached his room. It was a bedroom, not a suite like mine. The bed was unmade, and he set me down right on it, pausing only to slip the ruby slippers off my feet. He then drew the sheet and blanket on top of me, walked around the bed and climbed in on the other side—on top of the covers. The bed was large enough that there was room for a third person to lay down comfortably between us without any elbows touching.
I turned my head on the pillow. I could move a little more easily now. And breathing wasn’t so difficult. I watched him for a few seconds. His arms were folded behind his head, and he was staring straight up at the ceiling. I didn’t know what to say or even do.
“Can you breathe better?” he asked in a cool, almost careless voice.
My throat felt dry. I swallowed hard before I answered.
“Yes. Does that mean I can leave now?”
“You can try. My guess is, you won’t get far. She said sleep, didn’t she? Take a nap. When you wake up, you’ll be free to go.”
A laugh burst out of me; it sounded dry, brittle—and a little hysterical.
“Nap?” I sat up, and the covers fell into my lap. “You think I’ll be able to fall asleep? When I’m in some strange man’s room and he’s a …”
I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t say the word vampire. I’d have felt absolutely ridiculous if I had.
And my fear would have ratcheted up, too.
“You think I want to be here?” he shot back. “I just got out of bed. I have more pressing things to do than just lie here.”
“Yeah? Like what? Breaking into someone else’s apartment?”
He sat up as well, turning a thunderous expression toward me. For a few seconds we glared at each other. And I tried very, very hard not to let myself fall into his gaze again.
Finally, he hissed, “I should compel you to sleep. That way I wouldn’t have to hear you complain anymore.”
“Why don’t you?” I shot back. “If I’m that much of a burden, why did you even bother saving me?”
“Because whether I want you here or not,” he snapped, “you’re still my guest. As for compelling you, out in the hallway you were scared I’d force myself on you. How is compelling you any different?”
I opened my mouth. And closed it again without a word. After a second or two, he lay back down against the pillows. I remained sitting a little longer, my eyes running over the room. I’d have expected it to be furnished as decadently as the rest of the house, but instead it was rather plain.
The walls were painted a deep teal that made the room feel smaller, more intimate, although it was scaled perfectly to fit the oversized bed. There was no art on the walls. A window was covered with dark drapes. Two identical closed doors faced each other on opposite walls, and nothing indicated what they might open to.
The clean lines of the wooden headboard and matching dresser felt a lot more modern than the carved furniture in my room or in the rest of the mansion. It was odd, like doing a puzzle and finding one piece whose color and shape didn’t fit anywhere with the rest. I wondered what it meant, but I didn’t ask anything. I knew he wouldn’t answer.
I finally lay down again and pulled the covers back up. My fingers clutched the edge of the sheet, and I looked straight up at the ceiling. Maybe it would have been easier to find sleep if the light, as muted as it was, had been turned off, but I wasn’t going to ask. This was uncomfortable enough; I didn’t want to be in the dark with Mr. Ward.
He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t even breathing. I could almost have forgotten he was there, right in the same bed I was.
Almost, but not quite. He had a presence, some sort of… I don’t know. An aura, I guess. It was impossible not to be aware that he was there, inches away.
According to the alarm clock on the bedside table, an hour passed. It felt like at least ten.
“I can’t sleep,” I muttered, addressing the ceiling.
Mr. Ward made a sound in his throat. Agreement, maybe? Or frustration?
“What will happen if I don’t get any sleep at all tonight?”
“The same thing that happened on the balcony last night. The same thing that started to happen in your bedroom. Your body stops working, and then you die.”
Delivered in that cool, level voice, it sounded like he didn’t care if I died. I knew better than that. He’d saved me twice, hadn’t he? And in the bedroom, before he’d picked me up, he’d looked worried. Why did he try so much to pretend that it didn’t matter to him? Why did he play the unfeeling, jaded act? And it was an act, I was sure of it.
If he truly didn’t give a d
amn about me, he wouldn’t have gone to grab my things—gone himself, I might add, rather than sending a lackey. He wouldn’t have arranged for my shoe-shopping afternoon, either. And when Miss Delilah had called him, he wouldn’t have rushed to my room to check on me.
All of those things made me think of the sweet, lonely man I’d met in my fantasy. It would all have been very different if I’d been in the same bed as that man. And in fact… maybe I could be.
I turned my head on the pillow and watched him for a moment, working up the courage to speak. Why was it so much easier to talk to him when we were getting in each other’s faces?
“Closing your eyes might help with the whole falling asleep thing, you know.”
As quiet as he was, he startled me enough that I shuddered.
“You know what else might help?” I said, stumbling a little on the words in my haste to get them out. “You… you could do that mind thing again. Make me believe that I’ve fallen asleep, like you made me believe I… I hadn’t been rude to you.”
He looked at me, then. His expression was inscrutable.
“It’s not that easy. To fool the compulsion, it must be something that feels true to you. Something your mind will have trouble distinguishing from reality.”
I knew exactly what he meant by that, because I’d had to remind myself all day that nothing had happened between us.
“So?” My voice was shaking a little. “You can make it feel true, can’t you? You did last night.”
He let out a quiet huff and looked away again. “You have no idea what you’re asking from me.”
“Is it any worse than being forced to sleep in a vampire’s bed?”
He sat up abruptly, and I thought he’d get out of bed. Instead, he shifted toward me and cupped my face in his hand. His fingers were soft but strong, like I’d known they would be.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he said very low.
Our gazes met. I couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Just remember you asked for it.”
He leaned forward like he would kiss me. His eyes were as dark as the night and wider than the sky. I fell in.