Chapter 17
17
CELIA
T he darkness was absolute. I blinked rapidly, hoping my eyes would adjust, but it was useless. The thick door blocked out every hint of moonlight, every whisper of the world outside. My ragged breathing was the only sound breaking the suffocating silence.
No one could hear me in here no matter how much I screamed. I could die in here, either from going mad or from hunger and thirst while Luca left me to rot.
I moved forward shakily, fingers splayed wide as I took a tentative step forward. The cold, rough stone beneath my feet sent a shiver up my spine. When my fingertips brushed something solid, I flinched back instinctively before forcing myself to reach out again. Smooth, cool marble met my touch. A sarcophagus, I realized with a jolt of revulsion. I traced its edges, mapping out its shape in my mind.
“Focus, Celia,” I muttered to myself, trying to ignore the way my voice echoed in the cramped space.
I needed to find a way out, or at least something I could use as a weapon. Luca would be back eventually, and I had to be ready. I shuffled sideways with one hand always in contact with the wall. The mausoleum wasn’t large, but in the pitch darkness, it felt endless.
As I completed my circuit of the walls, my heart sank. Solid stone on all sides. The only break was the heavy iron door through which Luca had shoved me. I ran my hands over every inch of it, searching desperately for any weakness, but it was unyielding.
I sank to the floor, my back pressed against the cold wall. I buried my face in my hands, trying to steady my breathing. Panic wouldn’t help me now. I needed to think.
I forced myself to stand again, this time focusing on the contents of the room. There had to be something I could use. I felt my way back to the nearest sarcophagus, running my hands over its surface more carefully this time. Near one end, my fingers caught on something, a small metal plaque. I traced the letters etched into it, trying to decipher the name, but it was impossible in the dark.
But there was nothing that could serve as a weapon or help me escape.
As I circled back to the door, my foot struck something on the floor. I crouched down, sweeping my fingertips through dust and cobwebs until I ran into something hard and cool. A small vase, knocked over and empty. It was made of thick glass, heavy enough that it might do some damage if I could catch Luca by surprise.
I clutched the vase to my chest, a spark of hope flaring. It wasn’t much, but it was something. I retreated to the corner farthest from the door, sliding down the wall until I was seated on the floor. The vase rested in my lap, my fingers curled tightly around its neck.
Now that I had stopped moving, the chill began to seep into my bones. I wrapped my free arm around myself, trying to conserve what little warmth I had left. It was worse that I was virtually naked. Luca’s touch still seemed to cling to my skin, and I scrubbed my arm over my bare, shivering thigh, trying to erase the casual ownership of his fingers gripping my body so intimately.
The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional skittering that made my skin crawl. I tried not to think about the rats and spiders that must be my new roomies.
As my adrenaline fled, exhaustion began to pull at me, my eyelids growing heavy. I fought to stay alert, but the darkness and silence were relentless. My head nodded forward, jerking back up as I caught myself drifting off.
I woke with a start, my heart pounding. I was curled on my side, as if I’d collapsed during my sleep, and I felt warm. Something had changed. I remained perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe as I listened intently.
The rhythm of breathing, not my own.
I wasn’t alone.
Panic clawed at my throat, but I forced it down. I needed to assess the situation before I gave myself away as being awake. My hand tightened around the vase I still clutched, ready to use it if necessary.
As my senses slowly returned, I became aware of several things at once. I was no longer slumped awkwardly in the corner. My head rested on a pillow, and there was a warm weight draped over me. A blanket. The chill that had seeped into my bones earlier was gone, replaced by a comforting warmth.
And there was definitely someone else in the mausoleum with me.
I lay perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. The breathing I heard was deep and even and very close. Slowly, moving by fractions of an inch, I extended my free hand.
My fingers brushed against fabric, then the unmistakable solidity of a large, male body. I snatched my hand back, biting my lip to keep from making a sound. My mind raced. Luca? But no, something told me it wasn’t him. I’d felt Luca’s body pressed against mine, and this wasn’t Luca.
I should have been terrified. I was locked in a pitch-black mausoleum with an unknown man. But strangely, I felt…safe. Protected. As if I were in a dream.
I forced myself to creep up from the blankets and moving silently, on my knees, I crossed to where I thought the door was. My fingers slid across cobwebs, dust, and cold metal. I winced, biting my lip, as I tried to open the door.
It didn’t move. The breathing altered, and I froze.
Feeling terrified, still trapped, I moved slowly across the floor again and eased myself back under the blankets. He was awake. But he didn’t move, his breathing soft and even. I felt the warmth of his body through the distance, and I stayed still, afraid I’d broken the spell between us, until sleep claimed me again.
When I woke again, sunlight was streaming through the now open door of the mausoleum. I blinked, disoriented by the sudden brightness after so many hours of darkness. As my eyes adjusted, I pushed myself up on my elbows, looking around in confusion.
I was alone. The blanket that had covered me during the night was pooled around my waist, and the pillow still lay on the stone floor. But there was no sign of the mysterious presence I’d sensed in the night. Had I dreamed it?
“Good morning, starlight.”
I jerked my head towards the voice, panic spurting in my chest once more.
Luca stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking most of the light. His expression was unreadable as he looked down at me.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, as casually as if we were boyfriend and girlfriend meeting over coffee, not predator and prey reuniting after I’d bashed him over the head with a shovel and he’d locked me in a mausoleum.
I scrambled to my feet, pressing my back against the wall. The vase I’d been clutching was gone. I was defenseless.
“What do you want from me?” I demanded.
Luca took a step into the mausoleum, and I pressed myself harder against the wall, wishing I could melt into the stone. He stopped, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.
“Yesterday was not either of our finest moments,” he told me. “You were unruly.”
Unruly ? That was an interesting adjective to use to describe my murder attempt.
“I was harsh,” he went on. “But today is a new day. We should try to see what we can do together, Celia.”
“Together?” I asked shakily.
“You’ve been gone for twelve hours.” He smiled at me wolfishly. “By now, your father’s initial mild concern has tipped over into fury.”
Unfortunately, that sounded far too accurate for my father.
“He thinks you might’ve run away, and if so, he wants you dead.” He held out his hand to me. “Do you want to come be a good girl and discuss how we might keep you alive?”