Chapter 12

Itoss and turn on the silk sheets. The bed is almost too comfortable. I'm so used to my bumpy, hard mattress that this luxurious, soft one feels odd. I roll right to the edge of the enormous bed, then lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling? What do you call the top of a four-poster bed? I tried closing the bed curtains a few minutes ago, but I felt locked in, trapped, even more than I already am.

The dinner replays in my mind, the sick coincidences, my mom's suicide matching their dad's, Mikhail's orphanage setting matching my childhood. Despite all that, how beautiful Mila looks hits me the hardest. She was so glamorous in her dress, her hair styled, her makeup on point. She made me regret dressing frumpily right away.

Sighing, I get up, put on the fluffy bathrobe, and walk through the huge house. I can't find any paint supplies, but I get a stack of printer paper and a pencil and go to the library. A small balcony opens from the double doors, looking over the estate.

I sit on the balcony, letting the soft nighttime wind gently caress my skin. I wish I'd begged Dimitri to stay, as selfish and pathetic as that would've been. I wish I'd thrown myself at him, wrapped my legs around him, and rocked up and down to feel his hard lust grinding against me.

Pressing my legs together, I bite down, reminding myself now isn't the time to let my thoughts go there. I sketch the almost full moon, adding details where I can without worrying about the quality. It's so weird feeling this tired and not being able to sleep. Even moving feels like an effort, but my eyes are fixed open.

After the moon, I scatter some stars across the page, then fold it in two and start again with a fresh paper. Next, I try to sketch Dimitri from memory, but the pencil strokes can't compare to him. Every time I think of the way his face changed when I told him I was a virgin, lust thrums in me. I meant to use the whole virgin thing to get him to back off, but he smoldered so hotly, making him want me more.

Staring at my sketch, I'm sure it's my worst work. Maybe Dimitri will be my greatest artistic and romantic challenge, not like that means much on the romantic front.

I'm about to start another sketch when I hear a woman's voice coming from the darkness below. "Mom? Mommy? Mom? Mommy?"

I narrow my eyes, searching through the darkness. A thin figure moves through the night. I feel uneasy when I see the figure move back and forth. The guards are circling the perimeter, but none of them approach Ania. I'm sure it's her. Her voice sounds the same, but I can't properly see her.

"Ania?" I call.

There's a pause, and then she moans, "Mom? Mom?"

The distress in her voice gets me running through the library. Tying the bathrobe tightly around my waist, I throw open the front door and run barefoot across the grass. Ania is sitting on the ground, her legs splayed out awkwardly, moaning Mom or Mommy repeatedly.

"Ania, what's wrong?" I whisper.

"Mommy…"

"Ania?"

When she moans again, it suddenly hits me. She's not awake. She's sleepwalking. Maybe that's why the guards are ignoring her. Perhaps she does this all the time. I stand close to her, not sure what to do. She doesn't acknowledge me, just occasionally moans as she sways on the spot.

"Wait here, okay?" I murmur, though she ignores me.

I go to the main house and press the doorbell. This is probably a bitch move since the butler and any other staff members are probably sleeping, but I can't just leave her out there. A few minutes and more bell ringing later, the door swings open, and Mikhail stares down at me.

He's so different from his brother, with his longer hair, light beard, and casual style. It makes me want Dimitri's firm jawline and clean-cut handsomeness even more. The darkness in their eyes is the same, though Mikhail's seems more hidden.

"Is everything okay?" he says.

"It's Ania," I tell him. "I couldn't sleep, so I was painting on the balcony. She's sitting in the grass."

"Mommy?"

"She's been doing that for at least fifteen minutes."

Mikhail seems like he might get annoyed for a moment, but then he nods, sighing. "This happens sometimes. I'll try to bring her inside."

"The guards are just ignoring her," I tell him.

"Notice I said try?" Mikhail mutters. "Sometimes, if people try to bring her inside, she'll completely freak. The doctor said it could do more harm to her. It's better to give her time and let her wander back in, but it's a cool night. I need to give it a shot, at least. Give me a second to put on some…" He looks down at my feet. "Lia, why aren't you wearing shoes?"

"I didn't think," I tell him. "It's fine. I'm not cold. Let's go get her."

"Wait here."

Leaving the door open, he goes to the shoe rack and pulls on some sneakers. Then he brings me a pair of slip-on flats. "These are Mila's… I think. They should fit."

I reach out and take them, but putting them on feels weird.

Mikhail laughs similarly to his older brother. "You seriously don't need to worry about Mila. Dimitri doesn't want her. Until you, Lia, I never thought my brother would want anyone. Anyway, you better put them on for my sake. Dimitri won't forgive me if I let you freeze."

When Ania moans again from the darkness, I get over myself and quickly put the shoes on. Mikhail walks onto the porch, closing the door behind him. Together, we walk into the darkness. Ania is now walking in a slow circle, her fists at her side.

"I'm here," she murmurs. I'd be lying if I said her tone didn't creep me out a little, but that's not fair. "Here, here, here…"

Mikhail walks toward her slowly, his hands outstretched, whispering, "Ania, it's okay. I'm here, too. I'm right here."

He's almost got his hand on her when she suddenly turns and swipes at him, moving like a feral cat. Mikhail ducks smoothly to the side, waits a moment, then reaches out. Again, Ania swings at him.

Mikhail groans and rejoins me, shaking his head. "I don't want to make this worse."

"How often can you get her inside?" I ask.

"Half of the time, maybe less. She used to lock her door at night, but one night, she trashed her room and accidentally cut herself on glass from the mirror."

"That's awful," I murmur. "Poor girl."

"Don't let awake Ania catch you calling her a girl," Mikhail says, with another Dimitri-like dry laugh.

"Can I try?" I ask.

"I don't know. I don't want you getting hurt. Awake Ania wouldn't hurt a fly. Sleepwalking Ania is always ready for a fight."

"I'll be careful."

"Just try not to wake her. If she gets aggressive, get away from her quickly."

I nod, then slowly walk toward her. "Ania," I whisper.

She turns at the sound of my voice. Her wide, saucer-like eyes reflect the moonlight. There's an eerie, lifeless look to them. "Mom?"

"I'm here." Cautiously, remembering how quickly she lashed out, I move my hand toward her arm. Finally, I place my hand on her, feeling her cool skin and the texture of the goosebumps against my palm. She stiffens up, and I get ready to run, but she settles down, her shoulders slumping.

"Stay like that," Mikhail whispers. "I think she might… ah, good."

Ania doesn't lie down, exactly. It's more like she slowly crumples to the ground. Soon, she's snoring in the grass.

"What now?" I ask.

"I should be able to carry her inside."

Mikhail kneels beside his sister and slowly moves her into his arms. Ania looks so tiny and vulnerable when he stands while holding her against his chest. It triggers something in me I don't want to think about—thoughts of motherhood, broody swirling emotions, of being there for someone, never leaving them, never forcing them to be alone until they're ready.

"You should get some sleep," Mikhail murmurs to me.

"Yeah," I mutter dryly. "I'll try. Is Dimitri okay?"

"I haven't heard from him," Mikhail says, "but you don't need to worry about him." I know. It's the others who should worry. Dimitri has killed before, and he'll do it again. Shouldn't that scare me? "Thank you, Lia. I couldn't have calmed her down without you."

With that, he turns toward the house. I go back to the other house, returning to my spot in the library before I realize I'm still wearing Mila's shoes. I take them off, studying them in the light. They look like plain black shoes, but the sole shows the name of an expensive brand.

Being here, around all this luxury, is like being in a different universe. It all feels so alien. Yet, I have to admit, as I start idly sketching again, it's so refreshingly quiet and peaceful out here. Now that Ania has stopped sleepwalking, at least.

Eventually, my eyes start to grow heavy. The clock tells me it's almost four a.m. I hope that Dimitri, wherever he is, is okay. I hope he comes back to me soon.