I undid both locks and pulled open the door.
The warm sea air swept across my face, vanishing within a split second. An arm wrapped around my waist and hauled me backward. Alaric reached above me and slammed the door with so much intensity the sound echoed throughout the house.
He released his hold just to spin me around and shove me backward, bracing his arms on either side of my head to keep me caged in. I decided right then I preferred when he kept his emotions hidden. The look on his face made my entire body want to shrink in on itself.
He brought his eyes level with mine. “You’re truly testing my patience, Catalina.”
“I just want to go home, please just let me go.”
He laughed, the sound far from joyous. It was as terrifying as the look he was giving me. “Has anyone told you how fucking stubborn you are?”
“Your vapid bitch of a mother told me, while we were discussing me taking care of you, but this is above what I imagined.” He lowered his arms and glanced down for the first time.
“You…what did you just call her?”
“What is this?” he grabbed the hand now covered in old and fresh blood. “You’re hurt.” He openly leered at me, as if my being injured physically affected him. Without another word, he clasped hold of my wrist and started walking towards the stairs.
I had no choice but to follow him or I’d be dragged. It was becoming a common thing for me to wind up back in his bedroom.
It sunk in then that he was in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. The hint of his sinful angel tattoo peeked at me when we turned to enter the bathroom, as did his overly defined body.
He made me sit on the ottoman again and left my side only to get first aid supplies. I held my hand over my lap so I wouldn’t stain it. When he returned, he sat everything down beside me and silently got to work.
He cleaned the blood away, adding some kind of clear liquid to clean the wound. I bit the inside of my lip to suppress the discomfort it caused.
“It’s not that deep,” he noted, gently wrapping it up. “You’re not allowed to get hurt like this. You have flawless, perfect skin.” He kissed the back of my hand and then stood up. “Stay here.”
I lightly thumbed the protective bandage he’d wrapped around my finger. If I pressed hard enough it still hurt.
I looked stared out the window above the tub, momentarily mesmerized by the half-moon. If I stood up and got closer, I would be able to see it reflecting off the ocean.
“What did you do to those girls?”
He returned, this time with a warm wet washcloth in his hand. Without answering my question, he gently wiped the blood away from my skin.
I turned my head and looked down at him. He was intently focused on what he was doing.
“Alaric.” I reached down and placed my hand over his to get his full attention. Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet mine.
“What is going on? Where are those girls?”
He stood and rolled his shoulders, the muscles in his torso flexing with the movement.
He launched the washcloth across the room where it landed in one of the double sinks. “They’ve gone elsewhere.”
What did he mean by that?
“Then why was one of their dresses in your basement? Why do you have that room down there? You told me that wasn’t real.”
He tilted his head, regarding me with his inscrutable mask back in place. “Did I tell you that?”
“What?”
“I don’t recall ever saying that it wasn’t real.”
“You…”
I couldn’t find the words. Why did he purposely try and twist things around like this? Triggered by my question, the memory of when Rebecca snuck here to warn me popped into my head.
“Alaric’s going to fuck your mind twice as hard as he is your body.”
I stood up and sidled away from him, making sure we remained facing one another.
“She said you were like this.”
“Explain?” he urged, taking a minuscule step towards me.
I cut my eyes at him and moved further away. Did I want to have this conversation with him here and now?
I suppose it was the perfect opportunity. While the things I wanted to say were fresh.
“You do this.” I twirled a finger in the air between the two of us. “You find women and manipulate them until they’ve become nothing but useless broken toys.”
“Cat,” he said my name like he was amused. It was completely inappropriate for this situation. “I’m not the best at this groveling thing. Is this about dinner? I shouldn’t have drugged you. I’m sorry. Would you believe me if I said it was for your own good?”
My mouth opened and closed twice before any words came out. The fact he so nonchalantly admitted to putting something in my drink raised every red flag there was. I think I was out of warning labels that could be affixed to him.