Chapter 16
Irelynn
After my sob session, I scrub my face in the washroom before I set about exploring the room. It’s gigantic, and I find, as I begin opening doors, that there’s a fourth door tucked into a nook in the same wall the bed sits against. If I hadn’t been so out of my mind with terror when I pulled the curtains back from the windows my first night, I might have seen this door.
Now, I step closer to it with trepidation. It could be another closet. It would be fitting that a room as grand as this would have a his and hers closet, but all my clothes (Ilya kidnapped my clothes as well as me) are hanging in the closet with his. So, a hers closet seems unlikely.
My hand trembles as I reach for the knob, twisting.
The door opens and I hold my breath as I peer inside.
Not a closet.
But wow. Just. Wow.
I step inside to see a massive sectional facing a ridiculously enormous television mounted to the wall. Behind the sectional is a yawning, space. It looks silly, really.
I wonder—was this a his and hers bedroom?
I know there are couples out there who prefer their own space. Maybe Ilya always intended for this to be the case for himself and his future partner. In the interim, maybe he used this room for solo entertainment. Or maybe he entertained countless women in here.
Somehow, I doubt that. As massive as the couch is, it looks unused.
Lucy lets out a chirpy meow as he leaps gracefully onto the couch, turning to wait for me. He pins me with Halloween yellow eyes, tipping his head just so as though to say, “Well, are you coming?”
Suddenly, the only place I want to be is here in this dark room, with its blackout drapes pulled over the windows to conceal all the light from outside.
In here, I can sit in the dark silence with nothing but Lucy and pretend that my entire life isn’t in shambles.
I pull the throw blanket from the back of the couch and curl up. Tears of frustration and unexpected sadness fall from my eyes to puddle into the cushion. My face is sticky with emotion, but Lucy’s rumbling purr lulls my wayward thoughts into a deep, impossibly heavy, sleep.
Winter and flame and spiced berries and sin wrap around me in the moments before my body feels weightless. Lucy meows, and I hear the pitter patter of little paws on a wood floor as my body rocks, floating through air against something warm.
Sleep tugs me down even as I moan, restless.
The weightlessness fades away, and something softer and more pleasant cocoons me in warmth. Lucy’s purr rumbles close. I can’t stop myself as I snuggle into the scent of winter and flame. I feel safe, here. Safer than I’ve felt in so long, I can’t remember.
It makes me want to cry, but I blabber something incoherent to my own ears. Words dripped in dreams to mask a harsh reality.
Something warm and soft touches my forehead, then my temple.
Heaviness pulls my body into the softness beneath it as weight settles into my consciousness. The thing that made me safe is pulling away, fading fast.
And I fall into a fitful distortion of reality and nightmare as my mind slips entirely into sleep once again.
I wake with an alarmed jolt, crying out as the ghost of my nightmare fades into the reality of the yawning darkness that surrounds me. Only, I’m not where I fell asleep.
Now, I’m alone in Ilya’s bed. Lucy is still curled up beside me, his curved spine tucked close to my side, his purr quiet in sleep. In my chest, my heart is racing as fast as my mind.
How did I get here?
I’m certain I fell asleep on the couch in the adjoining room—but now—now I’m in the monster’s bed.
I recall dreaming of feeling safe. Of inhaling the taste of winter and flame, berries and sin. Of him.
I remember feeling safe.
Had he come to me? Had he moved me to his bed and tucked me in?
He”d been so angry with me when he left me in his room, locking the door behind him. Had he truly returned only to carry me gently to his bed so I might sleep better? Had he covered me with blankets and…
A sleep distorted memory assaults the strings of my heart as it flashes in my mind. Warm lips on my forehead. A kiss whispering across my tear-sticky temple.
Had the monster who stole me kissed me so tenderly?
The thought slices clean through one of the strings holding my heart in place.
My puppet heart is in perilous danger if the monster who took me from my life cuts through any more of the strings that fasten it in place inside my chest.
Because I’m not confident, when the last string is cut, the monster will bother to catch the tender, bruised, cracked heart, to cradle it gently in his cruel claws.
A shiver dances down my spine, calling goosebumps to the surface of my flesh. Just the thought that I could feel something, anything for this man is—deplorable.
I need to escape.
Lucy protests as I throw back the covers, but I’m already swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I don’t know how long I’ve slept, but considering there’s no light peering around the sides of the curtains, it’s been a while.
In the closet, I find not a single one of my ratty sweaters that I love to lounge in so much. I heave a weary sigh as I mumble aloud, “Apparently my sweaters weren’t good enough to kidnap. Jerk.”
With an eyeroll, I turn to his side of the closet. My eyes travel over the expanse of suit pants, jackets, and dress shirts. Finally, they land on what looks to be workout and lounge wear. There’s not a lot of it, but I do find a few sweaters hanging close to the back of the closet. All of them are my least favorite color to wear. Black.
I’m so terribly pale that black makes me look ghostly unwell. I can get away with navy blue, but black is pushing the bounds of my beauty.
With nothing else to ward off the chill, I pull one from the hanger and yank it over my head. I’d kill right about now for a hair tie, but it appears those didn’t make the kidnap list, either.
I’m really going to have to talk to him about this. If he was going to steal me from my life, the least he could do is make sure I have the things I need. Big monster jerk!
I glance at myself in the mirror and cringe. I’m a sight. Puffy, tear swollen eyes and pale flesh peeking out from a massive sweater that hangs nearly to my knees. Honestly, this just lends credence to how large the brute is. Even the cuffs of the sweater dangle well beyond my hands, making me not only look like a child playing dress-up in daddy’s clothes—but it makes me feel like one, too.
Again, I roll my eyes. Then, like the child I feel like, I stomp my foot. I’m just happy there’s no one around to see it.
That’d be embarrassing.
With a huff, I roll the cuffs so that my hands peek out from thick black fabric. Then I decide to try my luck at the bedroom door. Unlocked.
Peering into the hall, I step cautiously from the room. With one last glance at a sleeping Lucy, I close the door and start for the stairs. I only look once at the front door before I shake off the thought. I don’t have the energy to run. There’s a dull throb in my head and I haven’t eaten since my omelet this morning. I’m starving.
With that thought, I move slowly, quietly, toward the kitchen.
As I turn into the kitchen, Polina slams her hands down on the table and shrieks a word that sounds suspiciously like, “Yahtzee!”
Daniil grins widely, his elbow flying to the side to jab at Luka as he says something in Russian. Then his eyes snap to where I stand in the entrance, looking undoubtedly ridiculous in Ilya’s massive sweater. He stands, his chair shooting back as he does.
“Irelynn.” He starts around the table. “You must be hungry. Yes?”
I nod, peering at the table. “Is that Yahtzee?”
“Da,” Polina starts, then says, “Yes. You play the game Yahtzee?”
I hadn’t in so long, it’s a distant and painful memory. My voice is soft and quiet with pain I pray they can’t hear. “It was my mother’s favorite game. That, and backgammon. She’d con my dad into—” my voice cracks. I clear my throat in an attempt to cover it up, saying firmly, “She’d con him into playing with her every Friday and Saturday night.”
“We print these off the Internet.” Polina waves a Yahtzee sheet at me. “I much enjoy this game. Come.” She pats the chair next to hers. “Sit. Play. Daniil fix you food, and we play, da? Yes?”
“Da means yes?”
Polina bobs her head. “Yes. You want to play?”
Feeling shy, I peek at Luka to find him watching me curiously. The man is big, like Ilya. But unlike Ilya, he’s not all jagged lines and ice shards. He’s more like—like a teddy bear. With muscles.
I send him a small smile that he returns kindly, before gesturing to Polina. “She wants you to play. Say yes, little Irelynn.”
A fat sandwich appears on a plate in front of me alongside a glass of water. My cheeks bloom red as I murmur a quiet, “Thank you,” to Daniil who again takes his seat next to Luka.
Then, to Polina, I say, “I’d love to play.”
As though I’ve just brought her immeasurable joy, she claps her hands together. Seeing her joy, my wary heart feels a glimmer of happiness.
I eat, and we play.
For the first time since I was stolen, I smile a genuine smile.