Chapter 1
Aurora
It’s Saturday night, and my rented apartment feels particularly empty.
I’m killing time, staring blankly at my phone.
Finding nothing interesting on my feed, I open a jewelry store’s website.
I automatically find the section with gold chains.
A shiver runs down my spine just picturing the cold metal around my neck.
Catching myself, I close the tab and toss the phone onto the pillow next to me; my heart is pounding as if I’ve committed a crime.
All week, I haven’t run into Desire or his unhinged entourage, or whatever they call those guard dogs of the Kingdom.
That evening, after meeting them, when Caleb was driving me home, my body was shaking so badly my brother almost pulled the car over.
I had to force myself to breathe, faking a smile, all while the thick shadows of the roadside trees seemed to hold monsters awakened by Desire’s words.
Caleb, believing me, immediately started talking about how Mother had changed for the better.
Even before I was found in that damn forest cabin, she had wanted to marry him off to the Thorntons’ loose daughter—that girl had quite the reputation, but it didn’t bother Mom.
The fact her father turned out to be a serial maniac changed everything.
The irony is, now I’m willingly dating the son of that bastard myself.
Though, what’s the point? Zack hasn’t touched me once since he saved me.
Every time I hint at sex, he says he “needs time.” Why didn’t he need time when he was practically face-fucking me on his father’s corpse?
We know I’m wired for brutality. Of course, I know all about Stockholm syndrome.
But Zack has gone from a terrifying aggressor to just another twitchy student.
He avoids me on campus, terrified of going public and being seen by my family.
He dodges any conversation about that night.
Fine, I’m a loyal girl, and I’m willing to wait, even if I no longer feel that overwhelming dominance that consumed me in the woods. When I’m alone and touch myself, it doesn’t help. My hands are too gentle; they only tease me, making my body crave something rougher, something real.
I slide into my fluffy slippers and shuffle past the entryway to the kitchen.
A glance at the distant dark trees beyond the window has me quickly pulling the curtains shut.
I want safety, but I don’t know where to look for it.
The pills only offer a temporary fix, and therapy feels like it’s designed to drown out my true desires and remake me into someone else—someone “normal, convenient, and lifeless.” Sometimes, it feels like the only thing that could save me is the worst nightmare of all.
The one who would simply come and claim me for his own.
Walking back into the hallway, I find an envelope on the floor by the front door, pushed through the gap.
It’s white paper with gold edges and a crimson seal that looks like a clot of blood.
The color combination sends shivers crawling over my skin.
Suddenly, I see it clearly in my mind’s eye: a beautiful white-and-gold mask with a single drop of fresh blood.
Taking a breath, I snatch up the envelope and tear it open. Inside is a card with a time and hotel address written in an elegant hand, along with a room key card.
“Zack …” I exhale, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I remember how he tracked me down in the clinic park and handed me a pair of mirrored Oakley sunglasses—the exact kind his maniac father used to wear over his ski mask.
He surprised me then and even … disappointed me when he apologized for how roughly he’d treated me in the woods.
That was when I realized Zack was my Prince Harming.
In that forest cabin, he had seemed taller, broader—I suppose fear had warped my perception.
Zack told me he’d murdered his own father for me.
In the park, after his confession, I felt the shadow of that same terror and, strangely enough, a sense of protection.
The doctors are trying to “fix” what I consider my very essence, but my Prince Harming reminded me exactly who I was, who I am, and who I will always be.
Zack asked for permission to visit me, and I couldn’t refuse my Prince Harming.
He came to see me in secret until Mom caught us.
I had to explain, though I didn’t tell her the truth—I just brushed it off as “feelings.” She was shocked, but she didn’t argue.
She even told me a story about her college romance, and we hugged.
I rush into the bedroom and feverishly rummage through my closet, then apply my makeup in heavy strokes: aggressive dark smoky eyes and a shade of crimson lipstick that makes my mouth look like a bleeding wound.
The dress is a cocktail number, dangerously short, barely covering my ass and breasts.
And to top it off, a black lace choker around my neck.
I look like an escort for some wealthy “daddy,” which is exactly what I want.
I want to turn my boyfriend on so he’ll stop holding back and finally lash out at me.
If Zack is summoning me to a hotel, it means he’s ready.
He could have just come to my place, but it seems he’s decided to play a game of aesthetics and mystery. Fine. I’m ready to play by his rules.
A taxi drops me off downtown at the Onyx Plaza. I breeze past the bright-lit reception and head straight for the elevators. As I hit the button for the floor listed on the key card, everything inside me tightens with a sweet, sharp terror.
I approach the door, and my heart hammers in my throat.
Muffled sounds come from behind the heavy wood, but I don’t pay them any mind—it’s probably just the TV.
I raise my hand to knock but change my mind.
Since the envelope contained a key, it means my Prince Harming expects me to enter without an invitation.
With my heart racing, I swipe the magnetic card through the lock. After a short electronic beep and soft click, the barrier vanishes. The door gives way easily. My Gucci stilettos click against the parquet floor as I step into the half light of the suite.