Chapter 8 – Aurora
The vampire hasn’t been here in a week.
I both love and hate it.
I hate how lonely I am. My memories may not be fully restored, but something tells me I’m used to being alone.
I love that Rorik hasn’t been around to distract me. He hasn’t been at my door, hoping I’ve remembered a key piece of information that could help him locate my mother. He hasn’t been here looking broody and sexy as fuck.
My body likes it when he’s near, and it pisses me the fuck off. Like, get it together lady. We hate him!
I haven’t even seen him when I sleep either, which is disappointing. At least in our dreams, it’s not real. I can let whatever sick desire I have for my captor play out.
My nights are dreamless because I’ve struggled to sleep. I wake up drained of energy, yet every time I try to close my eyes, I fall into a fitful unconsciousness. All I do is toss and turn.
Not to mention that my chest aches all the goddamn time. The only thing that seems to help is sleeping in Rorik’s room, in his bed with my face buried in his pillow.
His smell soothes me to the point my heart no longer feels as if it’s about to explode inside my chest.
Which, again, pisses me off because not only is my cunt a traitor for wanting Rorik… but so is my heart.
I’ve been betrayed.
I need to get out of this apartment.
I’ve been rotting in bed for most of the morning and it’s now approaching afternoon.
I do a sweep of the bedroom, as usual, testing the window first. Locked.
The sun’s rays don’t penetrate whatever magical shield has been put in place to keep me hidden from the outside world. I yearn for sunlight on my face.
If I ask Rorik for a day on his balcony, would he let me? I know he has one. There’s a door in the living room that leads out to it, yet it’s kept locked and shuttered.
Standing at the window, banging on the glass for help, has the same result as the day before: not a damn thing. No one sees me. Giving up, I head to the bathroom to relieve myself and shower. I take my time, soaking in the heat of the water before shaving my legs and pits and washing my hair.
Rorik has supplied the bathroom with a wide range of curl care products because he had no idea which ones I preferred.
I’ve tried them all out since I’ve got nothing better to do than wash my hair, and Mousse seems to tame my frizz the best. I expel a dollop in my palm and work it through the strands.
A plan forms while drying the curls, and yes, the hair dryer even has a diffuser because this vampire has thought of every fucking thing—he even bought extra-large towels that fit around my thick body.
I dress in a pair of jeans and a crop top, then pack a bag of clothes.
I’m getting the fuck out of here tonight. I don’t care if it takes me all night to figure out how the hell to unlock that front door, but it’s going to happen.
Before I get to work on my plan, I make something to eat. A cold pasta salad with some rotisserie chicken, veggies, and ranch seasoning mixed with Greek yogurt.
I sit in the living room, feet curled underneath me while I eat and rewatch my favorite rival hockey TV show for the millionth time. I find it funny that an ancient vampire is up-to-date on technology and subscribed to so many streaming services.
When it starts getting dark, I set my bag next to the door and grab every tool I can find, plus a wooden stake from another one of Rorik’s chairs I broke.
He must really trust me because after I staked him the first time, I expected him to throw out every piece of wooden furniture. But he didn’t.
Not that it matters.
He can’t die.
Honestly, I think he gets off on pain.
I test the doorknob. Locked, of course, but this time, the moment my skin touches the cool metal, I’m zapped by an electric current. Yelping, I step back.
That’s when I see it.
There’s a glow around the door. It’s faint, but it’s there. I hadn’t seen it before now. There’s got to be something significant about this.
Slowly, I approach the door again. I place my palms on the wood. It’s warm and humming.
The spell on this door is speaking to me. It’s never done this before. It’s the small boost of happiness and motivation that I need to follow through with my plan.
I’m not able to unlock the magic. If I have the ability to cast spells, or have any ounce of magic because of how powerful my mother is, then she’s done something to take it all away from me.
I settle for the screwdriver that I found in a utility closet and focus on the hinges.
I don’t see any place to unscrew it. Not with the door closed, at least, but maybe I can hammer at the bottom of the hinge until the pin eventually pops out.
I do that for thirty minutes and fail to budge it an inch.
The hammering was loud enough that I’m certain Lloyd or whichever other human in this building Rorik glamoured has already alerted the vampire that I’m trying to escape. Or maybe Rorik is watching on his cameras.
I’m still pissed he has them.
But it’s also exhilarating knowing he watches me.
Either way, he’ll be returning to the apartment at any moment.
I slam my fist against the door in frustration, and the magical forcefield lights up, followed by a sound that reminds me of a lightsaber being powered up.
I do it again.
Same reaction.
How the hell did Rorik get a spell on this door anyway?
He is not liked in the witch community. I can’t remember why, probably something to do with being the first vampire and having a connection to my mother.
So no self-respecting witch would willingly help him ward a door, especially if they knew someone was being held captive behind it.
Witches quickly learned to protect their minds against a vampire’s glamouring abilities so he wouldn’t have been able to force anyone.
But witches also sell spells, so maybe he bought it at a witchcraft store or had one of his human helpers do it for him.
Wait!
These were more memories surfacing!
Another one hits me, and I nearly cry. A part of my old life returning.
It’s fuzzy, as if I’m trying to watch a television show but the signal isn’t strong enough, but I remember a store.
Small but beautiful. The smell of incense and shelves full of jars and other trinkets that aren’t clear in my mind at the moment.
Did I work at this store? Did my mother own it? Did I?
I sigh and wipe my wet cheeks. One thing about the memory that is clear is how happy I was at this place, wherever it might be.
Ok. I can do this.
I’m a witch, right?
I place my palms on the door and will it to open. I’m sure there are words that need to be said to undo the spell so I search my head for any clues.
Nothing.
All the door does in response is glow and make that sci-fi-ish noise.
The elevator to the penthouse floor dings.
Fuck!
Rorik is back.
He can likely sense me on the other side waiting for him or see me waiting on the cameras.
This might be my only chance.
I drop the screwdriver and grab the stake.
No, wait. He’s going to see the weapon and take it from me within seconds.
I need a distraction.
The door starts making noises. It’s unlocking. I don’t have much time.
I run to the kitchen and grab a knife… then cut my palm.
Returning to the door, I wait. Blood from one hand drips to the floor while I grip the stake in my other hand, hiding it behind my back.
Rorik steps inside and smiles when he spots me. But his smile drops almost immediately when he inhales a deep breath. His eyes turn black and his fangs drop.
“Are you injured? What happened?”
He rushes to me, and guilt settles in my stomach. He’s concerned, but I can’t let his attempt at humanity sway me.
When he reaches for my bloody hand, I strike. The stake pierces through the center of his chest, and I lock eyes with him as I sink it in.
I swear the asshole smirks before he collapses to the ground.
I grab my bag and rush to the door, hoping it didn't automatically lock. When it opens, I nearly scream with joy. I reach the elevator and press the down button.
I’m so close to freedom!
Stepping through the open doors, I stab the lobby button a million times, but the car doesn’t move.
Goddamn it.
I notice a black keypad and realize Rorik had this extra layer of security installed after my first escape attempt.
Fine. I’ll take the stairs. Running back out into the foyer, I go to the exit door on the right.
Fuck. It’s locked. The other one is probably locked too. Isn’t that a fire code violation?
I bet Rorik has a key on him.
Eyeing his front door, I inhale a deep breath and open it. I’m not sure how long he’ll be incapacitated. He’s still on the ground when I step inside. Without hesitating, I crouch beside him and search his pockets. I grab his wallet and keys and leave.
I can’t chance him waking up with me still in his apartment.
When I return to the elevator, I press his wallet up against a black reader. A green light lets me know it worked, and I press the lobby button again.
Right as the doors are closing, I spot Rorik in the doorway of his apartment.
Alive.
Angry.
Turned on?
Fuck.
Okay.
Think.
He’s going to take the stairs.
He’s going to stop me again.
It’s too late for me to go back now.
I shift on my feet waiting for the elevator to reach the first floor. I’m hoping by taking Rorik’s keys, he’ll have to go back into his apartment to find a spare set to unlock the stairway door. If he even has spare keys.
I might still be able to escape.
The moment the elevator doors open, I run. I run and I don’t look back.
I even make it outside this time.
The night air is warm and smells so fucking good.
I’m free.
Turning right, I prepare to flee. Only to be stopped by a wall of muscle.
Goddamn it.
“I’m impressed,” Rorik growls. “Such a smart little lamb.”
“Help! He’s kidnapping me!” I yell, whipping my head around in hopes someone will see this strange man attempting to take me.
But it’s New York City and everyone’s minding their business.
At least, I think we’re in New York City. It looks like it. Upper West Side, maybe?
But I refuse to go back inside with this vampire, even if I’ve come to enjoy some aspects of my captivity.
Even if I enjoy fighting him.
Even if I enjoy the sex dreams about him.
I can’t spend one more fucking day inside that sad, yet fancy, room.
So I do whatever it takes to put the attention on us.
I scream.