ChapterSeven
SUNDAY
The sound of birdsong woke me. I cracked my eyes open with a groan. “Moira, you forgot to close the window—”
As I took in my surroundings, my words stopped short, and I scrambled to an upright position.
This was not my room. And this was definitely not my bed. It was way too big and way too comfy.
Sleek, modern furniture filled the space. A pewter gray chaise lounge sat beneath the window, while the walls on either side were made up entirely of bookshelves stuffed to the gills with leather-bound tomes.
I lifted a hand to my aching head, feeling like I’d consumed an entire case of my grandfather’s moonshine, but the last thing I remembered was passing out in bed after getting back from my session with Caleb. So what the hell happened? How had I ended up here? I groaned, trying to put together the pieces of the night before when the dream came back to me.
‘Unlock your power... Embrace what makes you feel strong... They’re coming for you... They will kill you if given the chance.’
My mind twisted as it tried to make sense of my mother’s cryptic warnings, but then a sudden, much more terrifying thought gripped me.
What if ‘they’ already found me? What if they were still here?
I let out a soft gasp, my gaze immediately dropping and relief crashing through me when I saw I was still wearing the nightgown I’d pulled on the night before, and I didn’t seem to have any fresh injuries or bindings. Nothing to indicate I’d been harmed in any way or that I was being kept against my will. Then I held my breath, willing myself not to make a peep as I listened hard for the sound of somebody else moving around. After several racing heartbeats, I finally relaxed, breathing normally and allowing some of the tension in my shoulders to seep away. I was alone, but who knew for how long.
Okay. We can work with this. Maybe things aren’t quite as fucked as they seem. So what if you woke up in a stranger’s bed? These things happen, right? It’s so common they’d named it. So let’s just walk our ass on out of here.
Pep talk finished, I kicked my legs over the edge of the king-size bed, intent on doing just that. One of the silky black sheets was wrapped around my thigh, and I had to untangle myself before I was free. The act brought a fresh wave of bergamot to my nose. Citrus mingled with spice and dredged up an image of warm, amber eyes.
Instead of frightening me, the memory of them soothed me. Made me feel safe, protected even. But that was absurd, right? Because I’d definitely fallen asleep in my own bed last night and couldn’t recall a single thing between then and now. Which meant I’d ended up in this bed without my consent and whoever brought me here was the furthest thing from a protector.
Right. Time to go.
I scrambled toward the door, heart racing in my throat as I half expected it to fly open before I reached it. Or worse, find it barred from the outside. But no, it was unlocked. I could have wept, so great was my relief as I flung the door open without issue, spotting an elevator just a few feet away. I ran toward it, my finger jamming the button several times as I cast my eyes around the little waiting area.
It was decorated in the same style as the rest of Blackthorne Hall, answering one of my many questions at least. I was still on campus. Still in my dorm. Just on a different floor, it seemed.
“Come on, come on,” I urged, slamming my finger into the button again, only to stop and peer closer. It wasn’t a button in the usual sense. It was some kind of scanner. Likely coded to whoever lived up here.
Fuck.
I spun around, looking for some other means of escape. But there wasn’t one. The only two doors on this floor were the one behind me that would lead me back into the sprawling room and those that led to the elevator I couldn’t seem to access.
Fuck!
Just as my panic really started to climb, there was a soft, electronic chime and the elevator doors peeled open. My heart slammed in my chest as they revealed the man within.
Tall, pale, dangerous, with thick wavy black hair and disarming eyes the color of molten amber. He took my breath away in that this-guy-is-bad-news-guard-your-virtue kind of way. I couldn’t tear my gaze from him, needing to inspect him and make sure he was real.
Full lips? Check.
Penetrating stare? Check.
Chiseled jawline? Check.
Vampire, able to kill me with the flick of his wrist? Check.
He stepped out, making no move to walk around me, just crowding my personal space until I was forced to step back.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was smooth and skin-tingling, like he was whispering dirty nothings into my ear when all he’d done was ask a question. I blamed the British accent.
“Better question, asshole, is who the hell are you?”