Chapter 21
AURORA
The next morning, I stand at the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. The wind batters the landscape, pushing the trees and the grass, knocking roof tiles onto the ground. Raiden walks up behind me, enveloping me in his arms so that I can sink against him.
“It looks like the police won’t be getting here this morning,” I murmur.
“No,” Raiden agrees. “The good news is that we’ve managed to contact the mainland. They know the situation. Hopefully, we’re dealing with an easily startled drunk idiot and not a master assassin.”
“An easily startled drunk idiot who cut the power before doing what they did?” I mutter.
“Fair point. But they also got the wrong man.”
Thank God, I almost say, but I’m giving myself whiplash. I can’t think about what I must be doing to him. It’s not fair to either of us.
“Grandmother has asked everyone to attend breakfast,” Raiden says.
I face him. He presses against the small of my back with his hands. I’ll never get tired of that warm… protected feeling he invokes. Even if it has to end.
Chill, Aurora.
“Why does it sound like you’re hatching a scheme?”
He cocks his eyebrow. “It does?”
“Hmm.”
“We’re going to tell everyone that the police are on the way,” he says, “and then we’ll see who panics.”
“I still can’t believe anyone would do this to you.” I walk my fingers along his chest. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me? Some, I don’t know, feud? An ex-girlfriend with powerful connections?”
“I’m not a perfect person, but I can’t think of any reason why anyone would do this to me.”
“You swear?” I say.
“I swear, Aurora.”
“That means my instinct was right.”
“Oh yeah? What was your instinct?”
“That you weren’t a complete douchebag.”
He laughs warmly, moving in for a kiss. “I think you’re forgetting something…”
“Sir,” I whisper before he crashes his lips against mine.
Before we can get carried away, there’s a knock at the door. “Madam Blackwell requests all the guests to come for breakfast.”
“We’d better hurry up,” I mutter. “We don’t want to miss the show.”
I dress in jeans and a strappy top, something casual, which looks out of place with my mask. Raiden wears a T-shirt and khaki pants and puts on his mask. He offers me his arm. “Shall we?”
I link arms with him gratefully. The storm is still raging, but I’m not a scared kid. I’m not going to let it dominate me. Though I’d be lying if I said it didn’t upset me on some level, and that I’m not grateful for Raiden.
We gather in a large function room. Fifty or so people sit at the tables, the most I’ve seen in one room, all of us wearing masks.
The waitstaff/ security stand around the edges, watching us all closely.
Evangeline stands on a raised section, the only person in the room not wearing a mask, with a microphone in her hand.
Raiden leans into me. “When she gives the order, don’t look at her. Look around. See if you can notice anything or anyone suspicious.”
I squeeze his leg under the table. “Gotcha.”
Evangeline taps the microphone. “Esteemed ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention.”
Fifty-some masquerade masks turn to her. I look at her, but peer out of the corner of my eye to watch the people across from me. I’m determined to catch something, if there’s anything to find.
“Last night, the Retreat was desecrated. For years, we have come here as a sanctuary from the outside world, to indulge our Halloween darkness in private… darkness, I say, meaning the debauchery, the anonymity. Never pain. Never death. Whoever has done this wicked thing, you have ruined the Retreat. Now, I would like all of you to remove your masks. This killer, this traitor, this lowlife has stolen from us the chance to forget who we are.”
I remove my mask quickly, place it on the table, and then look around at the others. It’s difficult to tell anything definitive. Many hesitate before taking their masks off, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they were involved in the murder.
It could just be that they don’t want to sacrifice their shield. I know the feeling.
“Look around at your fellow Retreat goers and know this… this is the final Retreat we will ever have.”
A gasp resounds through the room.
“Whoever you are, murderer, know that you have ended more than a life. You have ended a decades-long tradition.”
Raiden looks around the room, his eyes narrowed.
“Anything?” I whisper in his ear.
“Not a damn clue,” he replies gruffly.
He nudges me under the table. “Watch Julian. He’s the one with the curly black hair. See how he reacts to the next bit.”
“Got it.”
“I have spoken with the police,” Evangeline says. “They’ve informed me they have a team waiting. In two hours, the storm is scheduled to abate. They will arrive and investigate before the end of the day.”
Julian runs a hand through his hair, but he doesn’t say anything. The woman at his side stares down at the table, seeming nervous. I’m tempted to let my overactive imagination skip ahead.
She’s nervous because he’s a killer…or perhaps she’s worried she’s next.
“The police have given the killer one opportunity to step forward now,” she goes on. “If you turn yourself in to the island security and wait for the police to arrive so you can be handed over to their custody, they have assured me they will recommend leniency to the judge.”
No one says anything.
Raiden stands slowly, looks around the room, holding his hands out at his sides. “If that knife was meant for me, like everyone seems to think, step forward. Make yourself known. We’ll settle this like men, not like rats scurrying around in the goddamn dark.”
He glares around the room, earning the sir I call him in private. He looks firmly in control.
Still–nothing.
After the meeting, we head back to our room. A staff member stands outside our door, mask on his face. Raiden barges through the open door, pacing.
Outside, the storm still rages.
“Was Evangeline telling the truth about the storm stopping?”
“Yeah,” Raiden grunts, still pacing.
I sit on the bed, twisting my hands together. “Can you really not think of anyone who would want you dead? If you die, does Julian get the Blackwell fortune?”
“Not if Grandma has amended her will.”
“What about the other family?”
“There is no one else,” he says gruffly.
“Personal enemies, then. Ex-girlfriends who might’ve hired someone—”
He walks briskly up to me and takes my hands, hauling me to my feet. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned ex-girlfriends. Anybody would think you’re using this as an excuse to make sure I’m completely free… completely yours.”
“Completely mine?” I say, placing my hand on his chest, meaning to push him away, but somehow, I tighten my grip on him and pull him closer. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
It’s like something within leaves me with no choice.
“You’re forgetting something,” he snarls, smoothing his hand down my back, aiming a kissing spank against my ass.
“No, you’re forgetting that this is ending in just a matter of hours… sir.”
He spanks me again.
“You moan like you fucking love it,” he says roughly, warm breath whispering over me as he kisses me on the cheek, moving toward my lips.
“I don’t,” I tell him.
“Say that like you mean it.”
“I don’t, sir.”
“You can pretend you don’t want it, Aurora, but every damn time you call me sir, I get so hard I think I might explode. And you know that. But you call me it anyway. Because you want me to be rock hard for you.”
He growls the last sentence like an animal barely holding himself back.
“You wish,” I whisper.
He kisses my neck, then whispers against my ear, “So you’re saying if I touched you, you wouldn’t be wet for me? Tell me, Aurora. Go on–lie to me.”
I lean back in his tight embrace. He stares down at me with feral, hungry eyes, like I’m the solution to all his problems. He looks at me as if he can forget about everything–his past, the murder, his family troubles–when we’re together.
The crazy thing is, I can forget too. Well, almost.
I push against him. “Keep dreaming… sir.”
He’s right. When I call him sir, he turns savage, and I love it.