Chapter 2 – Aurora
Iwake with a moan. My entire body shakes with desire.
What the fuck?
Did I just have a… a sex dream?
It wasn’t real?
But the orgasm was real.
I can feel how wet I am between my legs. How wet I was for him. How desperately I wanted to bury my hands in his thick, curly hair. How I wanted him to do more than put his mouth on me.
No. I don’t want that. What the fuck is wrong with me?
What’s wrong with him?
I said no in the dream. I didn’t consent to him touching me. Yet my body demanded it.
And I didn’t stop him. I didn’t want to stop him.
It was wrong.
It felt too right.
It takes at least a minute for my body to calm down from the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life.
A dream orgasm.
My eyes blink rapidly, attempting to clear this cloud of sleep and lust from my head.
I scan the room. The same room I’ve been jailed in for the past few days.
At least, I think it’s been days. Maybe a week. I can’t be sure. The dream threw me off because the night the vampire kidnapped me, he didn’t tie me up. He definitely didn’t do that to me. He put me in this room, and it’s where I’ve been since.
This fucking dungeon.
Okay, fine. It’s not a dungeon. It’s actually a beautiful room. Massive and modern, clean, and expensively decorated with artwork and furniture that I’ve only seen in the high-class magazines I used to buy because I love interior design.
The only part of this kidnapping that feels like I’m in an actual dungeon is the windows. They’re covered up so I have no idea if it’s night or day.
I turn on the lamp on top of the bedside table and rub my palms over my face. The light makes the place look somewhat homey. The warm, light green bedspread and matching walls. The beige curtains and dark brown flooring.
I hate how comfortable I am in this bedroom, despite being a prisoner.
Sighing, I crawl out of bed to use the pristine bathroom. It’s big enough to fit a separate shower and bathtub with a two-person sink, a walk-in closet, and space to do makeup.
After relieving myself and taking a quick shower, I dress in lounge clothes—an oversized t-shirt and leggings that appeared on the dresser one day, suspiciously in my size along with other outfits, underwear, and bras.
Not to mention the bathroom stays stocked with everything I could ever need for hygiene.
Meals are always cooked and brought to my door: breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
And a fresh stack of spicy romance books is delivered to me every week.
There’s a TV with every streaming app in existence so at least I’m not bored.
I’m just plain furious.
Rorik refuses to let me out of this room. The first day he had me locked in here, he attempted to speak to me. I decided he had no right to a conversation, so I screamed in his face and tried to attack him.
Yeah, after a few days of that, he gave up, and I haven’t seen him since.
I walk to the covered windows and run my fingers over the sleek metal covering the glass. It’s like some serial killer type reinforcement.
I’m never getting out of this place.
I walk to the door next to see if it’s unlocked—something I’ve been doing for the past few days just in case—but right before I reach for the knob, it turns. I jerk my head left and right, trying to find something I can use as a weapon.
Anything practical has been taken away, except for a large metal candle holder, which I stored under the mattress.
I extract it from its hiding place and hold it over my head.
“You’re awake,” Rorik says once the door is fully open. He leans against the frame, and I might have swooned at the move if he weren’t a fucking kidnapper. “Whatcha got there?”
He smiles. His cocky fucking smile.
And it pisses me off.
I swing the candle holder at him, but he grabs it from me at such a fast speed, I barely saw him make the move.
“Let me out.”
He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Little Lamb…”
Oh, hell no. He’s not going to be calling me any cute animal pet names like we’re lovers.
I punch him, my knuckles landing on his nose with a sickening crack. He jerks backwards, his spine smashing against a grandfather clock along the wall behind him.
I run into the hallway, but I barely make it out to the living room before he has me on my back on the ground.
He pins my wrists above my head with one hand, then straddles my hips. “Never run from a vampire, dear lamb. We like the chase.”
“What did you do to me?” I ask, ignoring the chase comment. He tilts his head, confused. “You… you glamoured me. Or whatever vampires do!”
Blood drips out of his nose, and he wipes it away with the back of his free hand.
“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“My dream… You were… there.”
“Oh?” His stupidly perfect eyebrow quirks up. “And what were we doing?”
My face heats, remembering.
How his mouth devoured me. How his tongue licked me in ways no man has ever done in all my years. How he made me come until I saw stars.
He must see the desire on my face because his eyes widen, the blue melting away to black, and a hint of something… uncertainty maybe… flashes before that cockiness returns.
“If the smell of your sweet cunt is any indication, it seems like it was a good dream.”
I manage to knee him in the back, which catches him off guard. He loosens his grip on my wrists, allowing me to throw him off me.
I crawl to a wooden chair and smash it against the wall. I’m going to stab this asshole with the broken-off piece. I turn around, wooden shard in hand, but Rorik is up off the floor, pressing me up against the wall.
I tighten my grip around the stake as he pins my wrists above my head, yet again, and silently curse my body for enjoying it just a little bit.
Okay, fine. My body really likes it.
“What are you going to do with that piece of wood, Little Lamb?”
I spit in his face.
He flinches, then wipes it away with his free hand.
I expected that to anger him. Instead, he smiles and bares his fangs at me.
Is he turned on?
This man has issues.
“I’m going to stab you,” I growl and knee him in the nuts.
He humphs and releases me. I don’t waste time and shove the wood through his heart.
I hope it’s his heart.
He inhales a sharp breath and glances down. When he lifts his head again and locks eyes with me, betrayal stares back.
“Don’t fucking look at me with those puppy-dog eyes, asshole! You’re the one who kidnapped me!”
He stumbles back and paws at the wound, bloody tears falling down his cheeks.
This is it.
My chance to escape.
I pause, staring down at Rorik, who’s now slumped on the floor against the back of the couch. Something inside my chest tightens, a tinge of guilt maybe, but I push it away.
This man kidnapped me. I shouldn’t feel bad for killing him. It was self-defense.
I turn on my heel and run towards the door. I expect it to be locked, but I nearly jump for joy when it turns and opens.
Freedom.
I’m barefoot as I walk to the elevator in the penthouse foyer and repeatedly stab the button. I’m assuming this is the penthouse. I didn’t get a look at Rorik’s place before he shoved me into the bedroom.
I jump at the ding of the elevator arriving and waste no time when the doors open.
I press the lobby button, and only when the doors close do I let out a sigh of relief.
When the doors open again on the ground floor, I run.
I don’t look back. I don’t look at anyone who might see a scared woman fleeing her captor.
I’m nearly out the building’s entrance into the dark night, but I crash into a large body, stopping me from getting to my freedom.
“Aurora,” the man growls, and my stomach drops.
“What the fuck!”
Rorik is alive?
I push at his chest and wince when my palms land in wetness.
His blood.
Because I stabbed him in the chest.
“I killed you.”
Wait.
Of course.
He’s the first vampire.
My mother told me he can’t be killed.
I gasp, another piece of my memory resurfacing.
Hold up… did he say my name? Aurora. Is that my name? I never told him. Because I couldn’t remember my name.
Not until the dream.
My dream.
How did he…?
Rorik wraps his fingers around my wrist.
“Let me go!” I snarl, struggling to break myself free as he drags me further into the lobby.
He’s too strong, and I plant my feet on the marble floor, attempting to use my weight to slow us down.
But he’s not fazed at all.
He bends, wraps his muscular arms around my waist, and lifts me off the ground.
I scream at the unexpected move and humph when he secures me over his shoulder, carrying me through the building's lobby like a fucking caveman.
“Hello!” I yell at the doorman, but he looks away as if he’s not witnessing a crime in progress.
Certainly, there are other tenants in this building who can help me.
Right before we get to the elevator, I scream.
And scream and scream.
I keep screaming until we’re back on the top floor.