CHAPTER TEN

I watched the sun rise from the confines of my new bed. I watched the dim rays of light trace pale yellow fingers against years of unwashed glass and crawl into the room. It settled on the intricate carvings, the dark wood, and fabrics. It highlighted the gold threads woven through the navy span of my comforter. The tassels on the square cushions on the bench at the foot of the bed. The small mountain of pins piled on the ornate nightstand. Every aspect of the space was art, a meticulous attention to detail and color. This wasn't the barren landscape of my parent's home but someone who loved living in a fairytale.

Unable to sit still any longer, I pushed back the covers and padded to the trio of long, vertical windows. No window seat, I noted, but the view of rolling wilderness enveloped in a canopy of dense fog stole my heart. It begged to be explored. Begged to be bundled up and remembered. I wanted to follow the faint line of stone to where it vanished into white mist. I wanted to explore all the things it was hiding in its folds.

I was so enraptured, I momentarily forgot how I got there. The day before, a month ago, a year, a decade all seemed like a lifetime lived by someone else the longer I stood and watched the heavens weep and the fog dance.

Heady for reasons I had no name for, I pivoted on my heel and hurried to the door. The knob turned too easily, too eagerly in my grasp and I found myself following a red carpet through a corridor lit by glass candles and enormous windows overlooking more trees. More fog. But also, a lake. A dark calm as vast as the grounds it burrowed coated in a layer of white. It stretched through the trees all the way to where I stood, face to the glass, squinting down to where the water kissed the house.

Excited, I moved faster along the hall, watching the windows, following the lake to a bend in the hall.

I came to a stop at the head of a set of grand stairs in smooth, white marble opening to a yawning foyer. A faint light glimmered just out of sight, urging me to keep going, to see how far it all went.

But I had already ventured so far. It was rude by any standards to just wander through someone's home without asking.

I glanced back, bottom lip caught between my teeth as I warred between going back and going forward. Mother would have been appalled. My behavior was inexcusable. I'd been told very specifically to stay in my room.

The bubble of euphoria shriveled up and died in the pit of my stomach as I realized how careless I'd been. Not only had I ignored a direct order, I was in someone else's house.

Someone who killed people for simply trespassing.

Terror, a palpable force hammering between my ears, I ran. I ran like I had never been allowed to run in my life. I thundered with every ounce of strength in me back through the corridors, past windows that had given me such happiness moments before. I took every turn blindly and with reckless disregard. Had I taken more care, I may have noticed the figure coming down the opposite direction before I collided with them at full speed. I would have been able to stop, not ricochet back with the same momentum.

I hit the dusty corridor with a violence that rattled bones. Teeth cracked together as serrated slivers of pain splintered up the side I landed on.

But even in that moment when I couldn't feel my right arm, when my hip throbbed and I couldn't breathe, adrenaline had me scrambling up to a sitting position. Frantic eyes shot up to the dominating silhouette towering high above me, a menacing mountain of man and danger.

Memories of Taylen's hand dangling by a sliver of skin had my senses teetering. My vision blurred behind a wall of hot tears I couldn't stop even as I knew crying would only make it worse.

He took a step forward and a sob broke on my lips. My body instinctively scuttled backwards, pulling into itself even as I backed into a wall. My uninjured arm reflexively went up to protect my face.

"Easy, Sweetheart," said a voice through all the chaos and noise slamming around in my head. The soothing murmur repeated. Softer. Kinder. Speaking as if to a spooked horse. "Easy."

I raised my eyes over the skin of my forearm to peer at the shadow being cast down on me.

The mountain folded, crumpling until we were eye level. Beautiful pools of liquid gold peered at me through the terror and tears.

"Are you hurt?"

I instinctively shook my head.

Dusky lashes lowered. Warm fingers brushed my arm. He ignored my flinch.

"You landed pretty hard," he said, straightening the limb and checking the joints.

I sniffled unintentionally and his eyes lifted to mine.

"Can you feel your fingers?"

I nodded.

The long digits with the large palm slid to take my hand. The sheer size of his seemed to swallow mine.

"You went the wrong way," he murmured, gently bending each finger and turning my wrist over.

"What?" I whispered.

The rough pad of his thumb swept across the shredded skin of my palm thoughtfully. "If you were trying to escape. The doors are the other way."

My gaze lifted to the open hallway over his shoulder before his words registered. I met his watchful eyes.

"I wasn't escaping. I was following the windows."

An eyebrow lifted. "Windows?"

I wet my lips and peeked over my shoulder in the direction I'd gone. "The ones overlooking the lake." I met his gaze again to find him watching me. Searching. Maybe he didn't believe me. "I'm sorry I left the room. I shouldn't have. It was just so beautiful. I won't do it again."

His lids lowered to study the gentle sweep of his thumb over my tender skin. "I told you to wait for me because this place is dangerous if you don't know where you're going. Most of it hasn't been repaired in years." His eyes were on me once more, steady, and watchful. "You can go anywhere you like, except the gardens."

Allured by the husky baritone of his cadence and the coaxing lull of his eyes, I didn't think before I asked, "Because of the roses?"

The question had his scrutiny sharpening. The rhythmic strokes of his thumb ceased. I realized my mistake too late.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I won't go in the gardens."

He was silent for too long before I felt him shift. His clothes rustled and his knees popped as he rose to his feet. Carefully, he took me with him. His hold tightened when I put my weight down and winced at the sharp pain in my hip.

Without a word, he bent at the waist and hoisted me up. My startled gasp was ignored as he held me much closer than anyone had ever held me. The heat of his arms, the strength of his chest sent a flood of heat prickling through me I wasn't prepared for.

He carried me into the bathroom.

"I love this room," I blurted, head tipping back to peer up at the glass ceiling.

"The bathroom?"

I nodded. "This whole house. It's like something I read about in a book. I never want to..." I stopped before I truly humiliated myself by admitting I never wanted to leave.

My chin jerked down to find him watching me in that odd way again, only his face was so much closer. His eyes were bright and dark at the same time and his mouth was so...

A knock sounded somewhere behind us and the spell shattered. I dropped my gaze. My cheeks hot.

He sat me down gingerly next to the tub. "I'll leave you fresh clothes on the bed. I'll send Cyrus to bring you down."

Without another word, he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

After the last several hours, it was nice washing it off. Between my filthy run through the gardens and scrambling on a dirty floor, the first blast of water ran down the drain brown. The bottoms of my feet were black, and a healthy smear of gray streaked up my leg from my morning walk and tumble. It took two passes with body wash that held the scent of pine and wildflowers, and a face cloth to fully scrub clean.

My hair was a different story.

The shampoo was his, a masculine blend of spices and musk. It filled the bathroom, my senses in a way that sent a warm flush through me. It wasn't the salon recommended bottles Mother insisted I use, but something about it made me like it more.

Embarrassed by my own thoughts, I bit my lip and pressed my scalding cheeks into a fluffy towel.

"What's wrong with me?" I groaned into the plush fabric.

I didn't even know why I was embarrassed, only that it felt ... different in my stomach. I wasn't even sure I liked the sensation, and decided I wasn't ready to unpack it. I had too many other problems without adding my captor to the equation because that was what he was. He was holding me in that place. I wasn't allowed to leave. Granted, I wouldn't know where to go if I did. Without the backpack and someone to take me, I was stuck there anyway.

Resigned, I left the tub and crept into the bedroom with the towel securely fastened around me.

True to his promise, a new top with sleeves was left on the mattress. The hem was much shorter than the t-shirt, coming to a stop high up my thighs, but the sleeves dangled past my fingertips. I had to bunch them around my wrists to see my hands. The baggy article swallowed me in black fabric, but it was warm and comfortable. I especially liked the fleece lining brushing against my skin. None of my old clothes ever felt so ... cozy.

With my hair in damp curls around my shoulders and my feet still bare, I eased the door open.