A University of Betrayal (The Blairville Legacies #2)

Chapter 3

Larissa

Pas De Deux

Michael Abels

The first thing I felt when I opened my eyes was one of the most intense feelings I had ever experienced in my entire life. It was as if I was on some kind of drug that didn’t fog me up, but instead heightened all my senses.

Blinking, I let my eyes wander around the room I was in and got goosebumps when I realized how clearly I suddenly recognized everything. It was dark, and yet I could make out what was written on the old leather books on the black bookshelf more than ten meters away, the textures of the bindings and even the wafer-thin layer of dust on the wood…

When I realized that I didn’t even know where I was, I looked around frantically. Black, very elegant furniture, massive burgundy curtains, and a mirror in one corner. A very large room with a high ceiling. And I found myself in an elegant king-size bed.

It overwhelmed me that I could see everything so damn well, but I didn’t have a headache like when my last ex-boyfriend’s errand boy had invited me on that drug trip.

Holy shit.

I looked around again.

This had to be a dream.

My hands ran over the soft velvet fabric of the burgundy bedspread I was sitting on. The intensity, the sensation of really being able to feel every fabric fiber, made me shiver. My body felt so different. Changed.

The pain I could still vaguely remember was gone, and all I could feel was... hunger.

But then the memories came flooding back, and I scrambled up, only to be at the window within a split second, tugging the curtains away, which resulted in me ripping the entire curtain off the rail. The sound of the fabric falling to the floor was unexpectedly loud.

How on earth had I been able to tear this pompous thing down? What was wrong with me?

I looked down at the heavy fabric lying on the dark wooden floorboards, then at my hands, startled again by all the details I was perceiving at that moment. The lines of my fingerprints, tiny white scars from back then that I thought had healed.

Then I looked out of the window. My stomach tightened with fear as I discovered a huge park with a hedge maze and a fountain in the middle. A huge lake and overgrown hedges lined with porticoes. A barely manageable area bathed in bright moonlight. And the amazing thing was that I could see everything.

A raven hopped across the lawn in the distance and cracked a nut.

I widened my eyes as I heard the shell crack.

No... it couldn’t be.

I sucked in the air, and the sweet smell instantly intensified my hunger, even though I didn’t even know what exactly I was smelling. I didn’t even know where I was, let alone how I had gotten here.

The memories were partly foggy: Bayla, the street in front of her house, a lantern. There was the bald psychopath... black eyes, a scar on his neck. He had... bitten me?

I jerked and grabbed my neck, but there was nothing there. Had I perhaps just dreamed it all and now found myself in the next illusion inside my head?

We had been attacked shortly after we had been at the party, and now I was here in some freaky room, probably drugged by a rapist.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, catching the sweet smell again. When I opened my eyes, I was still in the same place. I decided that no matter what happened, I had to get out of here because there was no point in waiting to see what happened.

I spotted two doors at the other end of the room, but when my eyes caught the mirror that was right opposite me, I let out a sharp scream.

A pair of red eyes stared back at me.

I took a step back, running into the second curtain and pulling it down completely, just like the first one.

But my concentration remained on the mirror. The red eyes moved when I moved, stood still when I did. I could see my body… even though it was pitch black. And the red eyes belonged to...

A noise tore my gaze away from the mirror, distracted me. Rapid footsteps, unnaturally fast, almost a rushing sound... and they were getting closer.

The panic that rose up in me made me shudder, and I looked around hastily, searching for something to defend myself with. Then I spotted a long umbrella made of black lace. I grabbed it and positioned myself in front of the door, ready to fight.

The footsteps inevitably came closer. Then, in a split second, the door flew open, and a tall man in an expensive-looking Armani suit stood in front of me, snatched the umbrella from me with a swing, and threw it into the corner of the room where it dug its tip into the wall.

What the...

I immediately recognized who it was, even if it took the confusion in my head to the next level. It was one of the guys I had photographed. The driver of the DeLoughreys, who had to be in his late thirties. Dark blond hair with gray roots – which, by the way, looked very hot – plus the prominent chin and the gray eyes, which were no longer gray but reddish…

I backed up and bumped into one of the bed frame posts.

The man looked at me intently, as if I were a burglar, and he was still wondering whether he should beat me up for good with his bodyguard skills or whether it was even worth it. Then he looked at the windows, in front of which the massive velvet curtains were towering, then back at me, his expression unchanged.

“You’re alive,” were his first monotone words, which made me wonder if perhaps I should be dead.

I took a step to the side, stepping on the fabric of the curtain that lushly covered the dark floor beside me.

The man looked down at my feet, and only now did I realize that I was wearing a long black dress that fell loosely but accentuated my waist.

Someone must have changed me. Damn, maybe even a man?! Maybe even him? I wouldn’t have said No to that.

I decided that this could only be a confused dream, but wondered what my subconscious was trying to tell me by Adrian’s bodyguard appearing here.

“This is by far the weirdest dream I’ve ever had,” I laughed dazedly and looked at the man in amazement. However, his expression didn’t change.

“I’m going to have to disappoint you, Larissa. This isn’t a dream.”

Wasn’t that typical of dreams, someone saying that you weren’t dreaming?

My heart was racing and somehow not. I could hear it. As if it existed twice…

In that moment, I realized what the man in front of me had just said.

“How do you know my name?”

“You’re one of us now. Your name is part of the family tree,” he said tonelessly and strode to the window. He was so damn fast that although I was aware of him crossing the room, it was inhuman how quickly he moved.

“What family tree?” I asked, engaging in the bizarre dialog while I looked around for other possible weapons to defend myself if necessary.

“Do you always ask so many questions?” he suddenly said, standing very close to me again. His look suggested that he was annoyed. Annoyed with me.

I took another step back.

“What is your name actually?” I continued to ask curiously because somehow, I had taken a liking to my dream. Maybe I could have some fun.

“For you, Bastien.”

So, Bastien... He pronounced it in French. I wonder if his name was similar in real life. I was sure I’d never heard it before.

“So, I don’t have to call you Mr. DeLoughrey?” I grinned teasingly at him. He stared at me like he had earlier when he had walked in.

“You two actually are alike,” he sighed, but I couldn’t ask what he meant anymore because he walked over to one of the large closets. “There are clothes in here. You should change. What you’re wearing is a night robe.” He eyed me again, but only briefly enough to be appropriate.

“Did you change my clothes?” I laughed sheepishly, earning an Are you serious? look.

“Camille did,” he clarified.

At first, disappointment spread through me, then my throat tightened because the thought that anyone could have seen my mutilated skin made me uncomfortable.

“Who is Camille?”

Bastien took a deep breath with his hands crossed behind his back.

I must be really annoying him.

“You’re about to meet her. And while we’re at it. You’re expected for dinner. So put on something decent. I’ll wait outside the door.”

“Dinner...” I repeated with a raised eyebrow.

My dream seemed to be so precise that I was beginning to doubt that I was dreaming. Everything felt so real. The panic returned. The feeling of being trapped and yet not dreaming.

“Where is Bayla?” was the next thing that popped into my head in my confusion. Apparently, I had piqued his interest because he narrowed his eyes – even looking handsome – and slowly approached.

“Bayla. What do you have to do with her?”

“She’s my best friend...” I began cautiously.

“Who are her parents?”

“Um… Why do you want to know?”

“Just answer my question...” he ordered impatiently, so I obeyed, even though I doubted my answer would do him any good.

“Diana Adams.”

He hesitated before he continued.

“And the father?” he went on as if my answer had been unsatisfactory.

“An asshole who abandoned his family,” I replied a little too sharply, only to receive a look of disbelief from him. “No idea. He ran away from California when Bayla’s mother was pregnant with her.”

“And the birth went without complications?” He hesitated again. “I mean... did she ever tell you anything about her birth?”

He pressed his lips together, and for a moment, he seemed more unprofessional than I knew him from campus.

I was so confused by his questions that I reached a point where I couldn’t respond to him and instead looked around frantically again.

My surroundings were unchanged. I wasn’t dreaming.

Slowly, I looked at Bastien. This man was Adrian’s real bodyguard. I was with the... DeLoughreys.

Slowly, I stepped back. First one step, then another one.

“Damn it, what am I doing here?” I asked shakily, bumping into the bedside cabinet this time. “What have you done to me?”

I looked first into Bastien’s glowing eyes, then into the mirror, where I recognized myself. That pair of red eyes. They belonged to me. Red and menacing, just like his at that moment.

I stared at him. Listened to my double heart beat… his heart beat. I could hear his heart beat.

“What the hell did you give me?” I yelled, and he flinched slightly, but then clasped his hands behind his back again. His eyes were shining more intensely now. He looked tense.

“Strange...” was all he said.

“Okay, I’ll make a suggestion. You tell me where Bayla is, you let us go, and I can prevent my parents from starting a huge search.”

That excuse had worked once before, but Bastien had to stifle a smirk.

“I’m not joking,” I said hastily, trying to focus on him and not on the figure in the mirror whose eyes were mesmerizing me.

That wasn’t me…

Whatever they had given me, it completely hit my system.

“Your parents won’t come looking for you,” he said again, a little more seriously, and I looked at him, puzzled. “Your mother is dead.”

The pain came too quickly. Unexpectedly.

“How dare you...” I clenched my hands into fists, but he sped toward me again and grabbed my wrist.

“It’s my duty to inform myself of something like this so that there are no complications.”

I looked at him, stunned.

Who was he to just find out something like that without any problems?

Panic and even more panic spread through me.

“I want to go to Bay!” I shouted at him angrily and desperately, which often helped me to suppress my fear.

“You should come to terms with the fact that you won’t be seeing your friend for a while. You’re in the Receptum now.”

What was he talking about? No longer seeing her? Receptum? What was he planning?

“Why am I here? Why me and not someone else?”

“Because you’re a DeLoughrey.”

I froze.

What had he just said there?

“No,” I whispered. “No, there is a mistake. I’m Larissa Champson.”

Bastien ignored my desperate attempt.

“From now on, your name is Larissa DeLoughrey.”

“No…”

I was confused, swooning inside.

“Get changed. The others are already waiting,” were his last words, and then he nodded to me, turned, and disappeared through the large, ebony-colored door, not without first glancing at his luxury watch.

I couldn’t quite keep up and stood there motionless, speechless, and confused.

Whatever sick movie I was in, I had to find a way to escape. And I had to find Bayla.