12. HOSTAGE

12

HOSTAGE

T he sound of running water made Charlotte groan. She wasn't ready to get out of bed, but the sound made her bladder perk up and demand attention.

She rolled over and buried her face in the plush pillow next to her, breathing in the delicious smell of citrus and vanilla mixed with a hint of coconut like her body wash.

It came back to her in fragments as the soothing scent of creamy orange permeated her senses.

Someone had followed her home.

The roses.

Aiden.

Aiden staying the night.

Aiden sharing a bed with her.

She bolted upright and looked around the empty, quiet room. She wondered why she thought she heard water. What had she been dreaming about?

Sunlight streamed through the window onto her bed, and she moved to her knees, inching toward the window to close out the offensive brightness before collapsing back on the bed.

He left.

Of course he left.

The only reason he stayed was because it was too late to drive. Now that morning had come, there was no reason for him to stay.

She chastised herself for the pang of disappointment that gave her.

Her stomach cramped, telling her to get out of bed. It wasn't her cycle—that had come and gone last week. She was free from Shark Week for another month. No, if she didn't get out of bed, she'd need to wash the sheets for an entirely different reason.

She rolled over to grab her phone, noticing a piece of paper tucked beneath it with neat handwriting.

Couldn't sleep. I'll see you soon.

She wondered how long it would be before she could see Aiden again in person and not on FaceTime or video chat online.

Checking the time on her phone, she sighed. Almost noon. Management never stayed in the building past noon. They went to lunch and took off, leaving only the phone service open to submit requests. She'd have to do that after she emptied her bladder.

Dragging herself out of bed, she stretched and relished the popping sounds her spine made.

It had been a while since she had a decent sleep. She didn't think she would with Aiden in the bed, but not once did she wake to noises like usual, worrying that her own personal boogeyman had come to visit .

Her phone chirped in her hand, and she looked down at the notification. Monique had sent a text to the group chat.

Monique:

Bad news. Professor Landers has food poisoning and has rescheduled all presentations until Friday.

Rachel:

Hell yeah. I was on my way to campus, now I can go shopping. See you bitches Friday.

Noah:

K

She exhaled a relieved breath. She'd forgotten all about the presentation today, with Aiden dropping by. At least she didn't have to go to campus at all today.

She tapped out a hasty reply as her bladder urged her fingers to type faster.

Only when she headed toward the bathroom did she realize she wasn't alone. The sounds of someone moving around in the bathroom filtered through her wall. It couldn't be Aiden; he left already. That only left one other possibility…

She rushed to the nightstand and jerked the drawer open, grabbing the chef's knife she now kept on top of her journal. She knew keeping it there would come in handy.

Picking up her cell phone, she dialed emergency services. The sound in the bathroom stopped; he was waiting to ambush her. The bathroom had no other exit.

She wished Aiden hadn't left.

"Athens-Clarke County—"

"Someone's in my apartment," she whispered with an edge of distress, cutting off the male dispatcher. She crept toward the bathroom.

"Who's in your apartment?"

"I don't know."

"Can you see them?"

"No, they're hiding in my bathroom." She tried to keep the panic out of her voice while she tightened her grip on the knife's handle.

"What's your name?"

"Charlotte Walsh."

"Okay, Charlotte. I'm going to get officers to you as soon as possible."

"Okay," she whispered, inching toward the wall separating her bedroom from the bathroom.

"What is your address?"

She rattled off the address to her apartment and moved against the wall to see if she could hear anything.

"Charlotte? Are you still with me?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Do you know if he's armed?"

"No. I don't know. I can't see him. I have a knife, though."

"Are you able to leave the apartment?"

"Yes. Uh. I-I don't know." She looked at the front door. Her voice quavered, her eyes stinging, as she said, "He'll hear me." She didn't like how fear held her hostage more than the man in her home.

"Can you get to your neighbors?"

"Yes."

"I want you to put the knife down, quietly exit your apartment. Go to your nearest neighbors until officers arrive."

Taking a long inhale through her nose, she nodded. She was fine. It would be fine. "Okay. "

"Can you call me back when you get there?"

"I'm on my cell. I can take it with me."

"Okay. Good."

When she pushed away from the wall and crept across the smooth tiles of the kitchen floor toward the front door, the bathroom door swung open and she screamed, spinning around and holding the knife up in front of her.

Aiden stood in the empty doorway with wide eyes, hand still gripping the knob.

"Oh my god," she said, choking on the sob she held back the entire phone call. "What is wrong with you?"

She still held the knife in front of her, but with how hard she trembled, it wouldn't have intimidated anyone.

"—Charlotte? Charlotte! Are you okay?"

She started at the voice, forgetting she had the dispatcher on the line.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay," she said, breathless. She needed to push her heart back into her chest where it tried to burst through her chest cavity; but otherwise, sure, she felt fine .

"What is happening?"

"My idiot friend was in the bathroom. I thought he went home this morning." Her eyes narrowed, giving a shell-shocked Aiden a pointed look.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I'm looking at him right now." She deflated a little, feeling stupid for calling. "I'm so sorry. I don't need help." She felt terrible wasting resources and wondered if she'd get in trouble for wasting their time.

"Not necessary. It's better to be safe than sorry."

A heavy knock sounded at the door, and she spun with a yelp, dropping the knife.

"Athens-Clarke County Police," said a muffled male voice from the hall.

"The police are here," Charlotte said to the dispatcher, and Aiden's brows rose. "That was fast."

"Open the door. Even with a false alarm, if they are already there, let them know you're alright. They'll just check that everything is okay and be on their way." The man on the line sounded calm and reassuring, so she hoped it meant she wouldn't be in trouble. "I'm going to hang up now. Take care of yourself, Charlotte."

She nodded, even though the dispatcher couldn't see her, and went to the door, pulling it open after disconnecting the call. Two officers waited on the other side, peering over her head.

"I'm so sorry you had to come out. It's a false alarm."

The taller man of the two raised a brow.

"Sorry. My friend was in the bathroom." She motioned to Aiden. "I thought he went home this morning, and…"

She glanced down, registering the tiny sleep shorts and tight tank top. She wrapped her arms around herself, shielding their view of her chest. With her in skimpy pajamas to combat the heat, and her words, they would naturally conclude her friend was here for more lascivious activities. It made her self-conscious.

The tall man tilted his head to look around her, motioning to the floor. "And the knife?"

"I had it in my hand. I told the dispatcher. For protection."

The shorter of the two squinted his hazel eyes and spoke with a thick Southern drawl. "What's it doin' on the floor?"

"I dropped it. The knock scared me."

"Huh. Mind if we come inside and take a look around? Protocol an' all. "

"Sure," she said, stepping back and allowing them to step inside. "You got here so fast."

The shorter officer nodded. "We were parked on the next street over takin' our lunch."

"I'm sorry I interrupted."

"Nonsense. Can't be too careful."

Both men clocked Aiden right away; he remained near the bathroom door.

He wore the casual medium-wash jeans and white T-shirt from yesterday. The taller officer straightened and puffed up upon seeing Aiden, and she resisted the urge to laugh at how comical it looked. The officer had to be twice Aiden's age and stood eye-to-eye, but Aiden held a clear physical advantage. The way his tight T-shirt stretched across his broad chest and shoulders made it obvious.

They had nothing to worry about. Aiden was harmless, and his size didn't make him dangerous. She didn't even know if he could fight.

"And you are?" the taller officer who had squared up upon seeing Aiden asked.

"Aiden Easton, sir. The friend."

The officer made a soft sound of derision at the respectful honorific. She wondered if it made him feel old.

Some of the middle-aged patrons at the diner responded the same when she called them ma'am or sir. Her fourth-grade teacher had always said, "Classy Southern ladies show respect, no matter the situation." Honorifics showed respect. Charlotte learned early on that it was wiser to err on the side of caution than risk ruffling a few feathers—especially when tips were involved.

The officers moved into the apartment, checking behind the laundry door, and in the bathroom once Aiden stepped away. They also checked in the area where her bed remained an unmade mess. Once satisfied, they returned to her.

"It was good of you to call in when you didn't know who was here," the shorter officer said, giving Aiden a side glance, returning his gaze to her. His eyes were kind as he smiled down at her. "Never think you're troublin' us. You got nothin' to be sorry for. You can never be too sure nowadays."

"Yes, sir. Thank you for coming out. Again, I'm sorry."

"If you need any further assistance, just give us a call," the taller officer said, letting himself out.

"Y'all have a good day now." The shorter officer smiled again before following his partner out.

She shut the door behind them and exhaled, slumping against the door.

"What in the—"

"Hold that thought," she said, pushing off the door and throwing up a hand to stop whatever Aiden had been about to say. She rushed across the room toward the bathroom. "How I didn't pee on myself through all that is beyond me." She slammed the door behind her.

Once she finished emptying her bladder, she went to the sink to wash her hands, groaning at the sight that greeted her in the mirror.

Her cheeks were flushed, and her curly hair appeared wild and untamed. She looked like she'd stuck her finger in a light socket.

Digging around under the sink, she pulled out a spray bottle of water and her leave-in conditioner. She wasn't going to shower again, but she could tame the rat's nest on her head before she faced Aiden again.

Correction.

Before she murdered him.

Once satisfied, she swept her hair over her shoulder and marched out of the bathroom like a soldier heading to war.

"I can't believe the police showed up."

She arched a brow. "No? Because of course they're gonna show up if I'm calling for help because I think someone is breaking into my home." She propped her hands on her hips and gave him a withering look. At least he had the good sense to look somewhat guilty. "I thought you were gone," she said with a sigh.

"Why?"

She stomped over to the nightstand and snatched up the note, thrusting it forward. His brows pinched as he took it from her hand.

"I said I'd see you soon."

"Yeah, soon. Not when I wake up soon. Soon can mean anything. You didn't quantify the length of time and now I look like a crazy person to the police when I've already made myself look like an idiot reporting a stalker I have absolutely no proof of."

Her explanation sounded unhinged even to herself. He wasn't to be faulted for writing "soon" instead of x-amount of time, but she still felt the uncomfortable and real fear that came with someone invading her space, even if it didn't happen. The feelings remained.

She pushed around him, and he barely budged. Stupid mountain of a man.

Her feet slapping on the kitchen tile sounded louder with her frustrated gait, but for some reason, she couldn't let go of her irritation. She felt something—something besides emptiness and hopelessness—for once, and she latched onto it, no matter how unhealthy it might be.

Snatching up the knife, she jumped when his warm hand touched her bare shoulder.

Before she could turn in surprise, he ran his large hand down her arm to the hand holding the knife, coaxing it from her grasp before she could do something stupid like stab him on accident. She ignored the goose bumps his touch brought.

"I'm sorry," he whispered entirely too close to the side of her head as he stood inches from her back with his head lowered. "I wasn't clear. I went out to get some breakfast." Cuffing her left bicep, he turned her with the hand not holding the knife to face the kitchen counter where a paper bag sat. "I brought you a biscuit."

She sagged against him, the fight leaving her body at his calm and measured cadence.

He took a long inhale through his nose before lifting his head from next to her ear and stepping away to give her space. She missed his comforting presence immediately.

"Eat something. It might help calm you down. I really am sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm fine," she said, more confident than she felt. She walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out the carton of orange juice they bought yesterday, pouring a small glass to go with her breakfast. "Want some?"

"I'm good."

She opened the cabinet above the sink and grabbed her medicine. Shaking out a pill into her hand, she popped it in her mouth and chased it with the juice before moving on to pulling the still warm biscuit from the bag.

"Are you okay?"

She turned at the concern in Aiden's voice. Swallowing the bite she'd taken, she said, "Yeah, why?" She held up the sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit. "This is good, by the way."

"You're not sick, are you?" He stood a few feet from her, his eyes focused behind her. Her eyes followed his line of sight to the pill bottle. She cringed.

"Not in the way you think," she muttered, averting her gaze .

He approached and propped his hip against the counter, crossing his arms. "You don't have to tell me. I was only curious."

The last bite of the biscuit felt like sandpaper going down her throat.

She wasn't ashamed of needing medicine.

Liar.

Okay, she felt somewhat embarrassed for needing medicine because her brain hated her for not handling change as easily as others—among other things. The shame wasn't in what others would think, but more so that she felt defective. People took medicine for a myriad of reasons, both for physical limitations and mental, but she didn't want something to be wrong with her.

"You're thinking really hard there," Aiden said, a lazy smile hooking the corner of his mouth when she turned her attention to him.

"It's for depression," she said. Her mouth parted in response to how at ease with him she felt saying the words. His smile disarmed her. She was getting too comfortable with him. That can't happen, she reminded herself. She didn't fit in his high-class world. She stuffed the empty biscuit paper in the bag.

"Depression?" His eyes narrowed and the muscles in his jaw tightened.

Why did he seem angry? She did nothing wrong. It wasn't her fault the chemicals in her brain acted out.

Before she could do anything like snap at him for being mad at her for something she couldn't control, he surprised her by grabbing her by both arms and turning her toward him.

His eyes softened when she looked up at him. "Is it because of the asshole following you around?"

"No," she whispered .

"Then why? I don't understand."

"I'm struggling." She pulled against his hold, and he released her without hesitation. Her arms circled her stomach. "I thought I could handle this, but with the added problem of him , I feel like I'm drowning." Her shoulders lifted; her eyes locked on the glass of juice like it was the most fascinating thing ever. "I took antidepressants when I was a young teen, when the transition into high school was hard on me. Then I met Blaire, and it got easier until I didn't need them. It was a little hard when she transferred into Magnolia Heights her senior year, but I still saw her at the diner, and we still hung out, so it helped."

She cringed. Codependent, much?

When a long silence stretched after her words, she chanced a glance up at his face.

The understanding on his face surprised her. She couldn't explain how she knew he understood, but something in the softness of his eyes and relaxed set of his mouth eased her discomfort. He wasn't judging her.

"It was hard for me when my brothers and sisters all moved away," he started, shifting to lean against the counter again, giving her space she wasn't sure she wanted now. "I was thirteen when Brandon moved to Seoul to become an international chef at twenty-three. Heather's the oldest, and as soon as she found her Kor—her partner," he said, pausing to clear his throat, "and got married, she left home. I think I was around three? Something like that."

"Wow. How old is she?"

"Thirty-five."

"So she left home as a teen?" At his nod, she shook her head. "I couldn't imagine leaving home for marriage at this age. College is one thing, but marriage?" She laughed. Marriage sounded nice, but she wasn't thinking about things like permanent commitments to anyone. She still had to sort out her own life.

"When you know, you know," he said simply. "But yeah, Brandon leaving was hard on me. Mom says I had trouble with Heather leaving, but I don't remember that young. I think if Riley wasn't around, I'd likely struggle with depression too. Especially with Dad living in New York."

"Wait. Your parents aren't together?"

"They are. Dad's job requires him to be there."

"Why doesn't your mom move north?"

"She teaches at the high school branch for Blackthorn. She loves her job, and Dad didn't want to take her away from that. Plus, Riley and I were in elementary school when Dad got the job and she didn't want to leave us."

"Why didn't she transfer y'all?"

He shifted, hooking his hands over the edge of the counter behind him. "Our family has all attended Blackthorn Academy's school system for generations. Kind of a family legacy thing. It was important to the family that we continue that tradition."

Huh.

Charlotte wondered if it embarrassed him that his family followed traditions like that because he looked incredibly uncomfortable. Southern families often held onto old traditions and obligations to preserve their family legacies in terms of school, work, and marriages in order to maintain connections with other legacy families and preserve their wealth. Her family had nothing like that, but she understood the concept.

Taking the hint that he didn't want to delve deeper, she said, "It must have been rough losing your siblings like that. Especially going so far away. Did Heather stay in Rosebrook? "

"Nah. She moved to New York too. She works for a pharmaceutical company in the city."

She turned to the counter and gathered up the trash from her late breakfast and opened the cabinet beneath the sink, tossing it in the garbage can. She made a mental note to take the trash to the chute later before it got too full.

Relating to his situation proved challenging, but at the same time, remarkably easy.

She didn't want to diminish his loss of family or insult him by comparing her situation to his, but losing Blaire to Blackthorn Academy felt like losing a sibling. In reality, she had no siblings. Part of her wanted to associate the fact that she didn't even know her father with the absence of Aiden's, but again, it didn't seem right.

Maybe it hurt more to have something and lose it than to never know it? She'd never know the answer to that question.

Turning to him after rinsing her glass and putting her medicine away, she huffed. "I need to change, then leave a message with management about the air and water."

He cursed. "I forgot you needed to be up early to go down there. I would have woken you up. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. After the start to the day I've had, I can suffer another night of heat. I'll be glad when this heatwave passes."

After gathering her clothes for the day, she disappeared into the bathroom. Trying not to take too long, she shucked off her pajamas and slipped on the high-waisted white shorts and off-the-shoulder, short-sleeved, purple peasant blouse, tugging down the bottom so it didn't show off her stomach with its shorter, fitted bodice.

Once satisfied with her appearance, she left the bathroom and dropped her sweaty pajamas in the laundry basket.

When she entered the living room, she stopped short. Aiden sat unmoving, staring at her with lowered lids and a blank expression.

"Everything okay?"

His eyes trailed over her like a gentle caress, taking in her appearance from her blouse to her legs, making her want to squirm. He shook his head. "Yeah. You look nice," he said.

Her brows twitched, her lips thinned, and her fingers flexed as she resisted the urge to tug on the hem of her shorts. Did he think she looked dumb? The outfit was new. Something she allowed herself as a treat—and because the coloring felt appropriate for the heat. But with the way Aiden gave such a flat response, she couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

Her eyes met his, and something in his expression shuttered. She'd missed something.

This was ridiculous.

"Do I look that bad?"

His mouth parted in shock at her sharp tone. Canting his head, he squinted in confusion. "Do what?"

"You're looking at me funny."

"I'm not."

"And you said I look nice."

"You do ."

She curled her toes into the area rug beneath her feet. So saying nice wasn't all that bad, but the delivery left a lot to be desired.

"Still sounded funny, just like the look."

A wry grin spread across his face. Her cheeks puffed with her indignation, making him break into a full-on laugh. She hated it. To be fair, it was a nice laugh, but she hated it on principle.

"Don't laugh at me."

"Okay, Kitten."

His laughter roared back to the surface as she gaped at him .

"I'm not a damn kitten." Her hands went to her hips. "I just bought this outfit. You don't ever say anything about how I look. And you were just… staring. I assumed that meant I looked bad."

"Aw, jeez." He leaned back and ran a hand over his face.

Her gaze latched onto his bicep flexing in his tight T-shirt.

She didn't know how often he exercised, but anyone could see how well Aiden took care of himself. Aside from his large arms, wide set shoulders, and chest stretching his T-shirt, he had a narrow waist and thick thighs—which she remembered from the way he looked spread out napping on her bed last night in only a pair of snug-fitting boxers, looking like a buffet for one.

All signs he worked out and ate right.

Her face heated when she recalled how his naked backside flexed when he dropped his shorts during their beach trip to perform a dare in the drinking game she had taken part in with Blaire, him, and their friends. Oh, he definitely works out. She hadn't meant to look, but it took her longer to look away when she did.

Even now, she tried not to stare too much, but it would be rude to ignore a work of art.

Aiden Easton defined beauty in more ways than one. His midnight hair appeared artfully messed with long locks both over his forehead and pushed back. Long lashes most women would kill for framed his intense forest green eyes. They almost touched his cheeks when he closed his eyes, drawing attention to high cheekbones that led down to a sharp, squared jawline.

Someone called in favors when he was conceived, because not only did he have gorgeous looks, but he held the heart of a saint.

It was another reason she questioned his reaction to her outfit. She never thought him to be mean.

"Are you even listening to me? "

"Huh?" She blinked, his voice breaking through the haze around her mind. It's like he carried his own Charlotte-attracting gravity, and she was helpless to it whenever she focused too hard on him. Had she seriously moved closer to the loveseat? She straightened and took a step back.

"I said I was sorry if you thought I didn't like it. I said it was nice because it really suits you." His tongue barely grazed his lip in an unconscious gesture he surely didn't know came across as panty-melting to women around him. "You're beautiful. Don't know why you'd think otherwise."

She didn't mean she was ugly, but she wasn't about to brush off the compliment. Even if he was her friend, she wasn't immune to him. If things were different—if her status were different—maybe she'd try her hand at flirting back, but she needed to resist those urges now that they were spending more time in front of each other, either in person or video. Texting before heading off for her big college adventure was one thing, letting it go farther was another can of worms entirely.

Clearing her throat, she forced down the uncomfortable lump lodged there. "I'm going to send an email to the office now."

"Alright."

She fidgeted, not sure what to say to him. Was he going home soon? What made him stay longer now that it wasn't night?

As if reading her thoughts, he said, "I was thinking I could spend today hanging out, since you've had some weird things going on. What with the flower delivery and this morning. Which I know was my fault"—he held up a hand to stop her before she could blame him for scaring the pee out of her—"but it still bothered you. I can head back at sunset."

"That'd be nice."

She turned without another word and went to her computer. She felt off-balance from not only misunderstanding his reaction to a stupid outfit, but also how her hindbrain hijacked the more capable faculties of her mind. Like it had last night with Aiden lying almost naked in her bed.

Once she had fired off the email, she sat back and sighed, wondering what her mothers were up to.

Aiden chose that moment to appear next to her desk, his bulky shoulder leaning on the wall as he fixed her with a look, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Why don't you tell your moms about this guy?"

Her brows tightened. "Could you quit that?"

"Quit what?"

Her hand waved about in the air. "The mind-trick Jedi thingy."

He snorted. "Okay, I'll bite. What's the ‘mind-trick Jedi thingy'?"

"You keep reading my mind."

His head recoiled in surprise. "I don't have that ability."

"I'm pretty sure no one really does. I'm just being stupid. But you have an uncanny knack for saying things relating to my thoughts."

"Huh. Well, one, you need to stop with the stupid talk. It's kinda pissing me off." He moved in front of her and spun her chair. "Two, you're thinking about telling them?"

She decided addressing the topic of how she talked down to herself on occasion wasn't the best hill to die on, so she focused on his second point.

"Not telling them, but I was thinking about them."

"Ah. So telling them. Thoughts?"

She slumped back in her chair and closed her eyes. "I want to show them I can make it on my own—be independent, you know? Even if I plan to come back to Rosebrook Valley to help with the business, I need them to know I can take care of myself," she said, never opening her eyes for fear of what she'd find waiting in his.

If her mothers knew that the moment she left Rosebrook Valley she had attracted a stalker, they would bring her home and never let her leave. They worried like that. They were awesome. She rubbed at the stupid ache in her chest.

Her eyes opened when the air shifted against her legs as Aiden crouched in front of her. He reached up and rested his hands over the top of hers on the arms of the chair.

"It isn't your fault some weirdo took a shine to you. Your mothers wouldn't see that as your lack of ability to look out for yourself." He squeezed her hands. "You went to the police. You've kept up with your classes. Leaving a dangerous situation when the stakes get to be too much is a sign of maturity."

Well, when you put it like that…

She shifted in the chair, her eyes moving to the planter filled with succulents on her desk with phases of the moon circling its surface.

The stakes had become way beyond stalker levels. She didn't know if what she saw in that alley was real or not, but if it was… Would the man—vampire—let her exist with his secret? Did he follow her home or know where she lived? A tendril of fear slithered down her spine. She didn't want to bring the undead back to her mothers and put them in danger. But who could she turn to with that who wouldn't immediately lock her in an institution somewhere?

She doubted even Aiden, with his kind heart and understanding eyes, would take her seriously if she told him what she'd seen.