Enthrallment: (Enthrallment Series Book 1)

by Meg Evans

  “If that’s true, then why the hell do you keep insisting that you can’t be with me and date some brunette who, I’m sure, you’ve already slept with?” I blurt out. My exasperation goes through the roof.

  He sneaks up to me almost soundlessly. I shriek as he suddenly spins me around to face him. His fingers curl around my shoulders.

  “I can’t be any different.” Despair spreads over his face. Time is suspended for that brief moment as we stand, staring at each other.

  “Why? Because that’s your nature? Is that your excuse?” I ask, my voice filled with anguish. I swallow hard and bite back my tears yet again. “Do those women also have something that you want to take away from them? That’s why you deal with them—I mean us—because we have something that you desire?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great. Don’t count on me.” I try to shy away from him, but he holds me too tight.

  “It’s not up to you anymore.”

  “Who is it up to, then?” I snarl.

  Tense silence fills the room once more. A hot wave of resentment and chagrin sweeps over me, but it can’t drown out my other feelings. Something chemical attracts me to Dorian. It was just a tiny spark when I first met him, but over time it’s burst into flames, raging out of control. He’s a drug that I need to function. I know that I’ll never be able to erase him from my life of my own free will.

  “It depends on you,” I answer myself. “You’re the one who decides when it’s over.” I recall his words after the second time we slept together, finally coming to realize that they make more sense than I thought. None of us would be able to finish a relationship with Dorian willingly. Each of us lusts after him more and more every day.

  Dorian nods. His grip goes slack, but I don’t pull away this time.

  “What do you want from me?” My voice trembles. “Take it right now and leave me alone!”

  “You’re giving up so easily. You told me you had an infinite amount of willpower. I’m disappointed in you.” He sounds genuinely frustrated.

  “I hope you realize that you’re not the only one in this room who’s let down,” I sputter. “The worst is that I’m most disappointed in myself.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I still want to be yours!” I say, overpowered by a welter of emotions. “I want you to possess me and sink into my soul. And it drives me crazy!”

  I drop my head into my hands. If it was up to me, I would extract all those desires from my mind and my heart, but as Dorian mentioned, I can’t control them anymore. I finally know the kind of desire Dorian described to me that rainy evening when we met on his porch — a constantly unsatisfied, never-ending thirst for him.

  “What do you feel for us?” I raise my eyes, which collide with his.

  “I feel nothing for them. No attachment, no caring, no sympathy, no love.”

  His words cut through me like a knife. I strive to keep composed, but hot tears sting my eyes again, this time with double force.

  He wipes a stray tear from my cheek and brushes his fingers across my skin. “Don’t be upset. You’re not like them. I just don’t know what you are to me yet.”

  I sigh. “It’s hard to believe that you’re not deceiving me right now.”

  “I know. I don’t blame you. I don’t understand what’s been going on either. What I do know, though, is that I want to protect you. Not harm you.” He studies my face in silence. “But it’s not how the process works.”

  “Who cares about some stupid process? What the hell does that even mean? Why do you need to have all these secrets?” I say with a moan of distress. “I guess you also can’t explain to me what it is in you that has such a profound effect on me? Why does it mess with my brain to such a degree?”

  “That’s another question that I can’t answer.”

  I slightly shake my head, disturbed by the amount of secrets that can’t be revealed. “Then tell me at least whether Rafael has been after all of us or just me.”

  “He’s only been interested in you.”

  Fantastic; someone apparently thinks I’m unique. But why does it have to be some freak who always carries a knife?

  “Why me?”

  “I told you, he thinks you’re someone else.”

  I’m smart enough to put all the dots together after all I’ve been told. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who Rafael thinks I am.

  “He thinks I’m someone like you are. Whatever you are. But why? Why does he think that I’m… umm… that?” It’s hard to verbalize my question.

  “That’s a good question. I don’t have an answer, though. I’ve been trying to figure it out myself.”

  “Let him get me. Let him do whatever he wants.”

  “Are you deaf?” His expression darkens, and his voice rises with determination. “Haven’t you heard me say multiple times that you somehow matter?”

  “No! Actions speak louder than words, and all you’ve been doing is—”

  He doesn’t let me finish. Without any warning, he yanks me up close and crushes my mouth with his lips. My mind shuts down; all I can do right now is give myself over to the delightful feel of his voracious kiss. I’m desperate for it. I wrap my arms around his neck and cling on to him tightly. He devours my body with his hands, arousing me to the point of dizzying torment. I’ve been caught in his trap and I don’t want to be released. He backs us up and pins me to the wall, causing a flame of lust to erupt somewhere in my abdomen. We both shrug out of our shirts and toss them to the floor, unable to wait any longer for our burning hot bodies to connect again.

  The cool metal of his pendant touches the skin on my chest. The moment I grab it with the intention of taking it off him, Dorian pulls away and tears it out from my hand.

  “Don’t ever do that,” he orders.

  I instantly go rigid. I completely forgot he never takes it off. I feel like I just violated some sacred object by touching it. When I examine the pendant, it seems to me that the engraved number on it has changed. I’m sure it used to be 2001, but now it definitely says 2002.

  “How many pendants do you have, Dorian?” I ask, still panting from our passionate kiss.

  “Only one. Why?”

  “You’re lying. Last time it showed a different number.”

  He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he grabs the shirt that a minute ago he threw on the floor in a rush and puts it back on, hiding the pendant beneath the fabric. I’m about to protest when the door opens with a slam. Rita storms inside without knocking. Her face is stark white with terror. Seeing me without my shirt on only in a red bra makes her falter, but she doesn’t withdraw or apologize, simply getting to the point: “Dorian, they’re downstairs.”

  “Today?! They were supposed to come next week!” Dorian’s eyes open wide; he’s alert. “Did you let them in?”

  “No, they’re waiting outside.”

  “Who did they send this time?” His gaze sparkles with indignation.

  “Damien, Raven, and…” She gulps. “Blair.”

  “Fuck!” He doesn’t hide his fury. Rita stares at him mutely, as if she’s waiting for his decision.

  Dorian transfers his eyes to me. There’s something in his face that I’ve never seen before. Could he be nervous?

  “We need to hide Zara; we gotta be quick.” He tosses me my shirt. “They can’t find her here.”

  CHAPTER twenty-one

  Hide?!

  I sincerely hope I have misheard this. “Why do you have to hide me?” The Hatches’ reactions imply that the situation is serious, but I can’t figure out why it would be.

  Dorian isn’t eager to straighten it out for me. Instead, he grasps my wrist and pulls me firmly toward him. He cups my cheeks, drawing my face closer to make sure he has my undivided attention. “There’s no time for explanations. You have to go with me now without asking any questions, understood?”

  I nod, and obediently let him pull me through the room.

  “Where are you thinki
ng of hiding her? They’ll sniff her out anywhere, especially Blair.” Rita’s voice raises, matching her escalating fear. “We better tell them up front that she’s here.”

  Dorian stops abruptly and, without letting go of my hand, pivots to face Rita. His eyes are bright with rage. “Over my dead body.” Then he clutches my wrist so hard that I flinch, and commands, “Don’t you dare mention anything about her.”

  Rita’s hands shake. Fear rises behind her eyes. “Are you out of your mind? We’ll be in trouble because of her!” she whispers frantically.

  “We will indeed, if you don’t stop freaking out. Dread is written all over your face; even the dumbest idiot would figure out that something’s wrong, looking at you.” I haven’t seen this rude version of Dorian before, but it’s somehow satisfying to witness him finally speaking up and challenging her panicky behavior.

  They continue this discussion, ignoring the fact that I’m standing right next to them and listening to their heated exchange, completely in the dark about what’s going on. Who are the people waiting to be let inside, and why do Dorian and Rita have to hide me from them? Are they dangerous?

  “Can anybody tell me what’s happening?” I butt in indignantly.

  “Dorian, I’m begging you.” Rita disregards my request. “Be reasonable. It’s just another girl, for God’s sake…”

  Dorian bites his lips, obviously furiously thinking about something.

  “I have an idea.” He sprints to the closet and rummages through it, scattering his clothes over the floor. “Put these on,” he says, and slings me two pieces of his clothing.

  “Why?” I regard the clothes, baffled.

  “Now!” he orders; his voice is menacing. “If you want to make it through this alive, be a good girl and put those on immediately!”

  Stunned, I don’t ask any further questions. I don’t even care that they’re both staring at me while I’m changing. I quickly throw on the sweatshirt he was wearing when I met him, along with gray sweatpants. Dorian takes my clothes and hands them to Rita.

  “Take these down to the basement. Don’t forget to close the door behind you.”

  “Okay, this is cunning,” Rita says. “Even if they sniff her out, we can direct them to the basement and say that these belong to one of them. Maybe it will work out.” She seems to have calmed down, which doesn’t make any sense to me.

  I open my mouth to ask again what the whole masquerade is about, but bite my tongue because I can anticipate their reaction. They’ll both respond that there’s no time for explanations.

  “Let them in only when you’re back from the basement, not before you go down. Tell them you were in the shower when they appeared. I’ll be there soon. Copy?” says Dorian. Rita nods. “We’re going to the attic.”

  We split in the corridor. Rita scampers down, whereas we trot upstairs. Dorian holds me tight as we climb the steps, imposing such a fast pace that I can barely keep up. I almost stumble twice as we take two steps at a time. When we reach the attic, and he pushes me through the door, I’m panting to catch my breath. The stale air doesn’t help me breathe.

  “Zara,” he says as he grabs my face in his hands again and pulls it close to his, preventing me from looking anywhere other than into his eyes, “under no circumstances should you go out of this room or take off my clothes. Stay quiet.”

  “Can I at least breathe?”

  Dorian scolds me with a stern look. “Those guys downstairs are something far worse than a nightmare.”

  “What will happen if they find me?”

  “They won’t!” he says, loud and clear, as if he is trying not so much to convince me as himself.

  “Are you afraid?”

  Dorian takes a breath to answer, but he restrains himself at the last second. He only runs his thumb along my lips and then assures me that everything will be okay. He closes the door behind him.

  I’m left by myself in the dark. Sitting in the corner on the cold floor, I bring my knees up to my chest. I can hear the wind beating against the house. This spooky attic frightens me way more than those strangers, who must be inside the house by now. The hum of human voices reaches my ears from below. I can’t understand what is being said because two floors separate us, but I can tell that several people have indeed paid the Hatches a visit.

  Dorian’s reaction to their arrival makes me assume that they must be really sinister. I should be scared to death, but I’m not. Perhaps that’s because I have no idea what they are capable of, as nobody has explained anything to me. The only thing I got was Dorian telling me that if I wanted to live through the night then I should stay quiet.

  Are they murderers? I shiver at the thought, but I’m also oddly intrigued. I want to know what’s happening downstairs, but at the same time I don’t want to push my luck.

  Sitting against the wall, I tilt my head back and breathe out. Dorian’s clothes emanate his scent to the extent that when I close my eyes, I could swear that he’s sitting next to me. My mind is congested with questions.

  The time drags frustratingly. Waiting always makes every single minute pass at least twice as long as normally, and I have nothing to keep me occupied. I glance at the old, rickety couch across the attic, some dusty picture frames, and an old vacuum. Did they belong to Mrs. McConelly? I begin to wonder whether that poor old lady actually died a natural death or whether she somehow got tangled up in whatever is going on with the Hatches. I’m still haunted by the question of what their secret plan is and whether I have been included in it all along.

  Whoever the uninvited guests are, they must be associated with the secret, somehow. Most likely they’re discussing its details right now. It even crosses my mind that maybe they’re the ones who want something from me, and Dorian’s only their minion whose mission is to obtain it from me. Unfortunately, I have upset their applecart as Dorian unexpectedly developed some peculiar feelings for me, and now he wants to protect me from them.

  Perhaps they know my name, who I am, and what I do. That’s why I’ve been put here in the attic. If they found me, they’d deprive me of whatever they desire so badly. But wait… I practically live in the same house as the Hutches, so it wouldn’t have been a problem to knock on my door this evening and handle things with me directly.

  I’m so done with living in a state of constant confusion, experiencing more and more strange anomalies taking place around me, that I decide to take my chances and sneak downstairs. I’m encouraged by the fact that I’ve already managed twice to go unnoticed while eavesdropping on Dorian’s conversation with Rita. There’s much more at stake this time, but the risk is worth taking. I’m willing to do anything to find out what’s been happening right under my nose. I might not have such a golden opportunity ever again.

  Since Dorian doesn’t want to let me into his world of secrets, I’ll have to invite myself.

  I creep soundlessly out of the attic. My heart speeds up as I tiptoe down the first set of stairs. When I reach the second floor, I glance over my shoulder and swallow hard. I can still go back. The awareness that Dorian told me not to leave the attic under any circumstances makes my stomach churn. I have a second to make my final decision, but the voices coming from downstairs encourage me to keep going.

  I plaster myself to the wall and stalk barefoot down the hall, shrouded in darkness. I feel like I’m walking towards a monster’s cave. Fighting a shudder, I slowly approach the next staircase, which leads to the first floor. I stall at the top of it. The voices haven’t eased off, which assures me that none of the strangers have discovered my sudden presence.

  Standing here, so close to them, a surge of adrenaline hits my bloodstream. It’s the fear of the unknown. I realize I’m trembling, and my heart is pounding so loud that I can almost hear it. I have no idea what would happen if any of them found out that I’m shamelessly listening to the course of their conversation. Even Dorian’s warnings haven’t prevented me from coming all the way here. My hunger for the truth has won over common sense.r />
  I clutch the polished banister with my shaking hands and lean forward, trying to find out what they look like, but I’m too far away to see anything. I have to be satisfied with just eavesdropping, so I strain to listen.

  “We have exactly a half,” a female voice says. “Aidan and Shahla found onyx last week. They told me that Michelle Elliot whimpered like a dog when she was reconciling her fate.” The speaker howls with monstrous laughter that gives me chills.

  “Without this little jewel she wasn’t that brave anymore.” This time it’s a man’s voice, equally entertained by the topic. “Aidan told me everything with details. I wish it had been me who ripped her apart.”

  His blood-chilling statement reminds me of the words that I’ve heard in my dreams many times: I will tear it to pieces. I will rip it apart.

  Does the voice that I hear belong to this man? But that’s insane. I’d never seen or heard him before I began dreaming of the creepy man. What does all this even mean? Is it some slang between them that I don’t understand?

  “How about you? Any tracks?” the woman asks.

  “We thought so, but it was a red herring.” That’s Dorian’s voice. He’s unshaken.

  “Rovenna won’t be pleased,” the man says. “She counts on you, Dorian.”

  “You don’t have to remind me. I know that very well.”

  “We gotta hurry; those hunters think they’re smart enough to play games with us,” the woman says angrily.

  Deafening silence spreads through the room. My skin instantly prickles with goosebumps. They’ve realized I’m here! I take a panicked step back, but then a new voice speaks up.

  “Dorian, the moment I met you, I knew right away you would be the greatest of them all.” The deep, velvety voice belongs to a woman. Her accent would suggest that she’s either British or Australian. “I was the one who noticed potential in you, regardless of the fact that you were not one of us back in the day. You seemed to be predestined for this role.” She goes silent for a few seconds, and I hear footsteps across the room. She must be moving, but the echo of her steps suggests that she’s going the opposite direction from the stairs; I’m safe. “I simply do not understand why this”—she must’ve pointed to whatever she means, as she pauses for a short moment again—“shows that you have been losing your grip, honey. Two thousand and two—only two more than the last time? What has been going on with you? Are you hiding something from us?”