Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 107652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
With my head slightly swimming and lingering pain gnawing, I took my feast to the cushions by the window.
Stress tried to remind me that lounging around was the exact opposite of what I should do in this scenario. Fear tried to make me normal by whispering I should return to the ballroom and see if I could find my rucksack so I could call my bodyguard to get me out.
But...I’d reached critical overload.
And, from prior experience, if I encountered even an ounce of discomfort now, I’d probably die of a stroke or heart attack.
And so, I did the only thing I could do.
I snuggled up in a puddle of sunshine, polished off the exotic wine, and drifted back to sleep where monsters couldn’t find me.
* * * * *
I stretched where I lay outside on the lawn.
The English sunshine did its best to be as warm as the tropics and I took full advantage by dragging a few cushions outside and parking myself in its golden glow.
Another day had passed, and I still hadn’t dared set foot out of my sanctuary.
Guilt tried to stress me out and panic at having my freedom stolen did its best to ruin my attempts at staying calm, but realistically...how was this any different to my life out there?
I lived in a prison of my mind’s own making, even as I travelled and seemed to live the lifestyle of an arrogant, spoiled heiress. I might flit from place to place, searching for that one spot that could cure me, but nothing felt safe. Nothing felt right. And I’d existed in this cage for seven long years.
In a way, I was already well used to captivity.
At least my bruised neck felt better, and I no longer felt as if I’d pass out if another surprise appeared.
The past three days had given me plenty of time to go over my situation. I’d drawn a quick map of the estate from my hazy memories and couldn’t understand why there were so many separate buildings all connected with a network of gardens, corridors, and pathways.
The only explanation I could come up with was...this wasn’t the first time a bunch of women had been thrown in here. The sprawling accommodations were designed to...I didn’t know. Give each girl space? Provide a sense of safety? Separate her from the others so when Lucien and his panther went hunting, no one heard her screams?
I shivered and squeezed my eyes tighter.
You promised you weren’t going to think about it.
The only thing I should focus on was lowering the crazy amount of cortisol still in my system and finding a way to be somewhat normal. Once my heart no longer palpitated and I wasn’t borderline passing out, then I would be brave enough to return to the main palace, request an audience with a killer, and see if rational conversation could enable my release.
After all...it was Tuesday.
The spa weekend was only meant to be for a weekend.
God, Rook. How did anyone mistake you for a savant? You’re an idiot.
I exhaled heavily.
My ideas of walking out of this place were as fantastical as having a panther for a pet.
My ears twitched, latching onto a sound I hadn’t heard since the night in the ballroom.
Footsteps.
Soft and deliberately quiet as if someone was well used to stalking.
I had two choices.
Sit up and meet my end awake or...play dead and hope it didn’t hurt too much.
I hated my lack of courage as I forced my body to completely relax, sprawling on the grass like I didn’t have a care in the world. Softening my face and keeping my eyes closed, I focused on keeping my breathing low as a shadow fell over me.
Not a cloud.
Not a bird.
A shadow as tall and as cold as the Grim Reaper himself.
Something wet touched my hand, followed by the needling brushes of whiskers.
It took every trick to stay ‘asleep’ and not cower away from the quiet chuffing of the panther as it sniffed its way up my arm. Its huge paws caught in my long hair that I’d fanned above my head, the gentle tugging on my scalp sending a wash of goosebumps down my spine.
“Sleeping?” Lucien hissed, his voice barely above a pissed off whisper. “How the hell is she sleeping? Why isn’t she whimpering or plotting my demise like the others?”
The panther huffed as if replying, the heavy thuds of its paws circling me to return to the shadow’s side.
My heart pounded as the air changed, turning sharp and potent the longer Lucien stood over me. With a quiet curse, he padded toward my commandeered pavilion.
I sighed heavily as I had a short reprieve while he investigated whatever he’d come to see.
“She’s even eaten most of the food and drank the wine,” he muttered, his shadow returning to block my sun. The panther grumbled as if commiserating with my oddness, only for Lucien to add, “How does she even have an appetite?” He toed my ankle, our bare skin prickling with connection.