Aftershock

31. Lilith

LILITH

Just like he’s done for the past three days, about an hour before noon, Alaric storms into the cafeteria, looking more like a man on a mission than a doctor.

With shoulders squared and his stride long and determined, he eats up the distance between us.

My heart skips a beat or a thousand at the sight of him, all sharp edges and raw intensity. This man’s aura is so potent that even his mussed hair, day-old scruff, and the dark circles under his eyes can’t diminish it. In fact, they only make him seem stronger, more attractive.

A whimper almost escapes when his ravenous gaze lands on mine. I’m a goner. Lost, and yet found. Breathing and choking.

Feeling every-fucking-thing.

“Go,” Hope whispers at my side. “I’ve got this.”

And even though my knees wobble and I don’t trust my feet to move, I do just that. I round the counter and run straight into his arms, burying my face in his chest.

“Alaric.”

That one word makes all that coiled, driving force in him go still.

“Lilith.” One of his hands cradles the back of my head as the other settles possessively on my back.

I don’t purr, don’t make a sound, just revel in the way his heart calms the longer he holds me.

It’s not a guess or some wishful thinking. Alaric said as much the first time he came for me like this, the day after we played doctor at my apartment.

Our dirty game was hot, sure. It also changed something between us. It’s as if our trust in one another has deepened, as if our connection has transformed into a bond.

Which is why it hurts to be apart, even for a few hours.

It’s a lot.

It’s too soon.

But this is what finding your soulmate looks like.

“How are you?” His lips brush the top of my head, his voice calm.

“Good.” I snuggle closer, not caring that people are watching. “You?”

“I’ll tell you.” The feel of his hands skimming over my back is exquisite. “Only after you tell me one good thing about your day.”

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being worshipped and cared for like this. Will never stop craving it, either.

It’s a good thing. The best, actually, because Alaric is obsessed with touching me.

He’s also addicted to inhaling my scent. To squeezing me tight.

To putting me first.

It’s perfect. It’s all I could’ve wished for and then some.

And today—by the end of it, after my visit to his storage unit—he’ll be able to do it without holding back. He’ll be free to be himself around me.

It shouldn’t have taken me three days to work up the courage to do it, but better late than never.

Sure, I feel bad about dragging him away from his patients. Thankfully, there are plenty of qualified doctors and nurses here to take his place, and in about an hour, he’ll be back in the hospital.

“My favorite thing was what you did”—I hum when he slides his hand from the back of my head to my cheek, his thumb stroking my heated skin—“with your tongue this morning.”

“Was it?” His cock hardens against my belly, his index finger tracing along my lips.

“Yeah.” Dizzy with need, I dart out the tip of my tongue, licking his fingertip without anyone seeing. “It was the best ever.”

A low rumble reverberates in his sturdy chest. I shiver. “Anything else?”

“Hmm. Well, it doesn’t come close, but customers have been trickling in all day.” The full weight of his gaze lands on me when I tip my head up. I have to bury my fingers into his sides, or else I’ll tear his clothes off. “Hopefully, it means lunchtime will be busy. I hate when it’s boring.”

His wide smile warms me from the inside out.

“What?” I smile back.

“It makes me happy.” Alaric smooths his thumbs over my cheeks. “Seeing how much you love your job.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle. There’s a glimmer in his eyes.

Imagine what it will look like when he knows how thoroughly understood he is.

It’ll be…magic.

“I do, but so do you.” Cocking an eyebrow earns me a kiss on the forehead. “You thrive when it’s busy too.” I lower my voice. “I mean, when your patients aren’t dying.”

“Yeah.” A dark cloud descends over his handsome face. “Speaking of work.”

“Someone died?” Fuck, I’ve crossed a line. A thick, red line. Maybe this is where he snaps. When he tells me he’s done with me. “I’m so sorry. I…it wasn’t a joke, I swear.” Shame has me looking down at an empty table. “Ugh. I’m so, so, so sorry if it sounded like one.”

“Lilith.” His fingers hook under my chin, angling my face toward his.

“I’m sorry.” I snap my eyes shut.

The world disappears. So much so that I don’t hear the rustling of the coffee machine or the light chatter across the cafeteria. I’m only aware of Alaric’s touch and what must be his looming frustration with me.

“I’m the worst,” I whisper.

“Li”—he kisses my lips, a soft, steadying brush of his mouth to mine—“lith.”

Wanting to become as small as possible, to disappear, I round my shoulders and squeeze my eyes shut.

He cups my cheeks. “Look at me.”

At his incredibly gentle tone, I chance a glance at him.

This isn’t a smile I see on his face.

He’s nowhere near upset either.

He simply…loves me.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” With his face inches from mine, it’s hard to breathe. What a sweet death it would be, though. “Not now. Not ever. I love every part of you, remember?”

“Y-yes.” In my periphery, I notice more people filtering in. Unease prickles my skin. Hope shouldn’t do everything on her own, even if she offered it. “Listen, I have to get back to work.”

“I’ll let you go then.” But his grip on my cheeks tightens.

Oh my God, I totally forgot. “You wanted to tell me something.”

“That it’s been a good day so far.” His deep, rich voice sends heat from the top of my head down to my toes. “Just a long one without you.”

“We’ll be together in no time,” I say, hoping my excitement doesn’t show.

“We will.” He threads his hand through my hair, loosening the tight bun at my nape. I’ll fix the knot later. His touch is so worth it. “Then we’ll finally talk about you moving in.”

We both lean in for a quick kiss. “Okay.”

“Okay?” His eyebrows lift. “After the past three days of you saying you wanted to hold off on this conversation?”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask what changed?”

“You can.” I sneak a glance at the growing line, then pry myself away from Alaric. “And I’ll answer this evening.”

More like this afternoon, though I keep that part—the last lie I’ll ever feed him—to myself.

The walk down the hallway of B1 should be a familiar one.

Not today.

Yes, I know the way to Alaric’s storage unit by heart. Yes, the little chip in the paint next to the third door from the elevator is one I’ve noticed a handful of times. The soft, barely audible whoosh of the elevator—I recognize it just as well.

What’s different is me.

This afternoon, unlike the others, I’m not heading to the storage unit next to Alaric’s.

I’m about to go into his.

As I tread over the cement floor, my breath stutters, coming in and out in short rasps. The duplicate spare key feels wrong as it lies inside my sweaty palm.

It doesn’t cut into my skin or anything.

It’s just wrong.

Because even though I’m confident this is the right move, even though Hope didn’t suspect a thing when I said I’d be sneaking into Alaric’s apartment to surprise him, I don’t like it.

My confidence has slipped since I left the cafeteria, like this might backfire on me. On us, as a couple.

The dread is so strong that I’m struggling to breathe. My throat is tight.

But as consuming as my fear is, I have to do it.

For Alaric.

That conviction is what forces me to walk these last six feet to his door. To fit the key into the lock.

It slides in and…I leave it there.

What if he’ll be pissed that I didn’t wait for him to tell me the truth himself?

What if he calls me a thief for stealing his keys?

Stupid, Lilith. Such a disappointment. You can’t get anything right, can you?

My mother’s insults hurl themselves at me one after the other. Each one is a slap in the face. A kick in the ribs.

I flinch as I remember the venom in her voice. The hate in her eyes.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Not now. Not ever. I love every part of you.”

The memory of Alaric’s words is the balm for my deepest, most painful wounds.

His devotion is a reminder that he won’t lose his shit over this. Won’t slap or shame me.

He’ll understand.

Everything will go according to plan.

Click and the lock gives in. The handle bends under my shaky palm.

“Mmm!”

Fraser. He’s too loud, and the fucking door is open.

Hell no.

Before I so much as glance around the room, I rush into Alaric’s storage unit and shut the door behind me without bothering to lock it. Why should I? The whole point is for him to storm in here in a matter of minutes.

“Mmm!” His prisoner pulls me out of my thoughts, looking as pathetic as ever.

He’s in nothing but a soiled pair of boxers, the stench sharper now that I’m in this room instead of the adjacent one. The stitches from a few days ago are still raw, yet there’s no pus, and the skin around each one seems pretty healthy overall. Even the wound on his forehead seems to have healed.

Thanks to the best physician ever, Dr. Lockwood.

“Mmm!”

I should say something. Ridicule him like Alaric does. Tell him he’s earned this.

A million taunts sit on the tip of my tongue. Especially since I feel like I’ve known him for a while.

In a way, I have.

Thing is, he’s Alaric’s project. He’s the one who went through the trouble of kidnapping him. He’s the one who owns this space, this version of a man cave.

Until he says so, I have no right to his captives.

Besides, Fraser doesn’t interest me.

The notebook does, and my time to go through it is running out.

Ignoring Fraser, I edge closer to the table where it sits, open and waiting for me.

I’m almost there, within reach, and I gulp. It’s like my body can sense what a huge moment this is.

“Mmm!”

I take the last two steps that bring me to the notebook.

With shaky fingers, I open it.

At first glance, it looks like senseless scribbles. Rows upon rows of Alaric’s elegant, very un-doctorlike handwriting.

But the second I start reading the words, my eyebrows pull together.

Alaric hasn’t been writing Lilith’s future husband a million times.

He hasn’t been doodling or working on a how-to-kill-abusers-for-dummies manual.

He’s been doing the last thing I thought a careful, calculating man like him would ever do.

The more pages I turn, the clearer it becomes.

He’s been documenting each torture, breaking it down with the methodical precision of scientific research.

Subject ID. Name.

Date.

Baseline vitals. Elapsed time.

Something black catches my attention in the corner of the table. A timer.

So that’s what he’s been tapping at.

Focus!

Right.

The notebook.

Intervention applied. Response observed. Outcome recorded.

The entries go back years. I move slowly as I leaf through them.

Too slow, apparently, because I still have a lot more to go through when it happens.

A hand clamps over my mouth.

Alaric.

I’ve been so consumed by his notes that I didn’t hear him come in.

“Lilith.” His voice in my ear. It’s pained. Wrong.

Oh, shit. He must think I’m either going to hate him or that I’ve been planning to hand the notebook over to the cops.

Never.

“Mmm!” is the only sound coming out of me.

As if I’m one of his captives.

I’m not.

Can’t be.

This is Alaric, after all. My Alaric.

The man who’s always protected me. The man who’s made it his mission to show me how much he cares.

His love is an everlasting thing. It’s honest. It’s real.

There’s nothing to be afraid of. Not a damn thing.

If he’d just let me talk.

I lift my hands, covering Alaric’s wrist and forearm to peel his hand off my mouth.

“I…” Instead of letting go, he pushes his hand tighter on my face. His fingers bruise my cheeks. “It’s too soon, goddammit.”

It’s the right time, I scream into his palm.

All that comes out is, “Mmm-mmm—mmm.”

“Fuck, Lilith, I’m so sorry.”

Something pointy nudges at my neck.

A needle.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.

He actually believes I’m going to turn him over to the authorities.

That I hate him.

The worst thing is, I can’t explain myself. His hand—the one that has stroked, spanked, and healed me—now silences my words. My cries. My pleas.

And I can’t forget about the needle.

It’ll only take one push, and the sedative, I assume, will empty into my bloodstream.

Then I won’t be able to say a word.

Alaric will be stuck thinking I’ve betrayed him.

Am I going to be strapped to his chair?

Is he going to document each torture he inflicts without hearing me out first?

No, I refuse to believe that.

Then why is he silencing you? Why is he about to inject you with whatever the hell this is?

Oh, God.

Fear barrels through me, drowning me in panic.

I’m hot, cold, hot, then cold again. My pulse rages, my nostrils flare in a desperate attempt to get air in. I fail. I cough. Flail my hands.

When my tears soak Alaric’s hand, he lets out an anguished huff.

Yet he still doesn’t release my mouth.

This isn’t good.

In fact, this is very, very bad.

“Mmm.” A river of tears runs from my eyes. “Mmm…”

“Little devil.” His lips are on my ear, and then—fuck. The needle pokes through my skin. “You really shouldn’t have come here.”

If my whimper sounds defeated, it’s because it is.

The sedative plunges into my veins.

My body gives up.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” are the last words I hear before everything goes black.