Chapter Seven
Vanessa
My face being smushed against the back of the seat in front of me stirred me from what must have been a deep sleep.
“Huhzwahatisit?” I mumbled blearily, blinking myself awake, rubbing my eyes as the car I was in continued down a steep hill.
“You’re awake,” a male voice said from the driver’s seat, the smooth tenor reaching deep into me and evoking a soothing, calming effect that washed over me like the ocean spray. I could have sworn I smelled wildflowers. “Good.”
“Uh, yeah, I am,” I said, sitting upright, trying to subtly wipe away the drool that was making its way down the side of my face. Oh god, had I been snoring? So embarrassing.
“How do you feel?” my driver asked.
I looked at him now that I was somewhat capable of coherent thought.
He looked ahead, but his profile was … intriguing, to say the least. Strong jaw, without needing a beard to accentuate it, he had light-colored hair—it was hard to tell exactly what color in the dark—that was perhaps finger length, a little shorter. The lines were cut sharply into it.
And he smelled.
“What’s that smell?” I asked, realizing it wasn’t him, or at least it wasn’t just him.
He chuckled, a solid rumble that sat lower in my belly than his voice, making it curl and twist into knots. Tingles spread out down my spine at the same time.
“That,” he answered, “would be the smell of the Kreechuk River.”
I gasped, sitting upright as memories came flooding back to me. “Holy shit!”
“Calm,” the driver urged, his voice cutting through my panic and soothing me. “Relax, Vanessa. It’s going to be okay.”
No, it’s not. I killed someone. I shot him in the head! I’m a murderer.
Wild thoughts encountered the relaxing aura of his voice and its command, and somehow, illogically, I found myself obeying him, doing as he said. I calmed down.
“Are you sure it’s going to be okay?” I asked.
“I promise.”
Oddly enough, I believed him.
“Who are you?”
He turned his head to look at me straight on, giving me the first real look at his face.
I gasped, meeting a pair of silvery eyes that I would never not recognize. “You! You’re the one from Luxe last night!”
“Guilty as charged,” he said, smiling broadly, the look all but slamming me back into the seat as it did things to my heart I wasn’t ready for.
Despite how enraptured I was by his gorgeous face and beautiful bone structure, I didn’t miss it when we stopped going down the slope and the leveled-out road went through a solid band of trees before revealing a giant house in front of us.
Spotlights lit the outer grounds, which were composed of numerous walking paths, angular gazebos, and benches scattered around under trees and in the open.
Well-manicured lawns led up to a three-story affair of perfect gothic architecture.
Sharp angles, pointed corners, gargoyles on the roof, angular spires jutting up from every rooftop.
The only difference was there wasn’t an ounce of brick or wood to be seen.
Everything was made of metal, as far as I could see.
All of it. It was a stunning mix of classic design and ultra-modern materials that was beyond eye-catching.
I suspect most people would have found themselves staring in awe for quite some time.
Yet I found my attention drifting back to the mysterious stranger and driver fairly quickly. Along with it came a spike of worry as more of my brain clicked into function.
“Where are we?” I asked nervously.
“This is my house,” he said. “You’re safe here. Nothing will happen to you.”
Again that wave of warmth fell over me, like a blanket fresh from the dryer, eager and ready for me to wrap myself in it if I wanted. Part of me simply wanted to accept his words and believe him. That I was safe and no harm could befall me while at his house.
But Mama Padgett didn’t raise an idiot.
I threw it off, embracing the coolness.
“Why am I here? Thank you for saving me,” I said. “But I’d like to go home now, please. I don’t know you. Why did you take me from the riverside? Why didn’t we wait for the police?”
“Everything will be explained in time,” he assured me. “I will protect you.”
My stomach flip-flopped at the underlying strength of that promise. Somehow, I knew deep down that I had nothing to fear from him. He wasn’t my enemy, wasn’t someone I should be worried about.
Scrunching up my face, I worked past that feeling. “Mister, I have no idea who you are. The only thing I know is you pulled me from the river, which I am eternally grateful for, and then kidnapped me.”
“I’m not kidnapping you,” he countered.
“What are you doing then? Can you take me home?”
“In a way, that’s what I am doing,” he said, somewhat mysteriously.
“I know my house,” I told him. “It’s a house. On the outskirts of downtown. It could probably fit into one of your bedrooms here. Trust me when I say this isn’t my home.”
“You’ll understand soon enough,” he said as a garage door slowly rolled up, revealing a ramp that descended into a long, linear garage with various cars and vehicles parked on either side.
“Quite the collection,” I observed as we passed several very expensive-looking sports cars. I didn’t recognize a single one of them, but they were more exotic than a Lambo or Ferrari, that was for sure.
“Thank you.”
“Can you at least tell me your name?” I said, trying to figure out why I should be panicking but wasn’t. There was no way his voice alone could soothe me into accepting my kidnapping.
Was it?
“My name is Vil.”
“Oh.”
“You sound surprised.”
I shrugged, which he probably didn’t see. “I figured it was a made-up name. People who go around kidnapping women don’t normally give their real names.”
Vil looked back sharply, his eyes blazing even brighter as he parked the car. “Vanessa, I want you to get one thing straight. I will never, ever lie to you. Ever.”
I swayed back at the intensity of his statement, backed up by the near-fanatical look in his eyes.
“Oookay,” I said. “Sure. Yeah.”
The light in his eyes dimmed somewhat. “I did not mean to alarm you. I just … wanted to be very clear. I am not your enemy. Far from it. I’m here to help you. To protect you, among other things.”
“What do I need protecting from?”
Vil chewed on his lip for a moment. “Come, let me show you inside. You must be hurting from the accident.”
“Mostly stiff at the moment,” I said.
“That will change. As you rest, and perhaps when you stand. That was quite the trauma your body took from the car going over the edge like that.”
“Yeah,” I said, trying not to think about all the other trauma I’d experienced, mostly from shooting someone. Why wasn’t he saying anything about that?
“Come on, let’s get you some food.”
My stomach rumbled almost instantly. I glanced at the clock. It was nearly three in the morning!
“How long did it take us to get here?” I said, worried about what had happened while I was passed out in the back seat of his car.
“A little over an hour. I don’t live exactly close to town,” he said, getting out of the car.
After a few moments of contemplation, I followed.
In the past, I’d always gone with my gut instinct, which rarely led me wrong.
Trusting him might be the first time it did, but there definitely was something different about Vil.
Whether it was his eyes or the way I just believed everything he was saying, I wasn’t sure, but my gut said I didn’t have to fear him.
“Ow,” I said, my body protesting as I tried to stand upright.
Vil was at my side in a flash, coming around the car without me even seeing it. He didn’t touch me, but he was there if I needed help.
“I’ll be okay,” I said. “Just hurts, that’s all.”
“Come, we’ll get you fixed up,” he told me, still hovering.
“We?”
“The two of us, you and I,” he said. “Sorry, habit of speech.”
I nodded warily but followed him toward the entrance. “You don’t have to hover, Vil. I hurt, but I can walk just fine. Nothing is broken. Just heavily shaken up, that’s all.”
He moved away, and I suddenly felt worse. Still, I was determined to suck it up. Nothing was majorly wrong, and I didn’t want to feel like a whiner.
Why do you even care? You don’t know him. You owe him nothing. You should be going home, not into his house!
Logically, I knew I should be running in terror.
Trying to escape. That was the playbook for those situations.
Of course, Vil was tall, and I doubted it would take him more than a dozen steps to catch me if I did run.
Not to mention he had all the cars, and we were way out in the middle of nowhere, far from the city.
No, my better bet was to remain calm and steal a car when I could.
I knew all of that. I’d thought about it, and my brain was still working.
So why wasn’t I doing it? Why did I feel perfectly calm and—there was no denying it—happy in his presence?
It made no sense! Stockholm syndrome couldn’t possibly work that fast, could it?
Just because he saved me, I now felt continually safe around him? I didn’t believe that.
On the other hand, I didn’t have to believe it was possible to understand that I was feeling that way, regardless of what logic said. It was a confusing loop that my brain refused to stop doing. It was like a dog chasing his tail, in a way.
“Why did you want to talk to me last night?” I asked as we entered the house. The hallways were wide and tall, each made out of smooth metal that was almost cool to the touch.
“A lot of things,” he admitted.
“Why didn’t you stick around, then? I expected you to find me when I had a moment of a break or something.”
“You were busy and … good at your job.”
I blinked, coming to a halt. “Wait. So, you left me alone … because I was good at what I do?”
“Yes. I watched for some time,” he admitted. “From across the bar. I apologize if that’s weird, but seeing someone so casually and effortlessly use their brain to remember everything the way you did, I was impressed. I wanted to see more.”
“Why is that oddly flattering and not creepy when it comes from you?” I said. “I should be weirded out right now, but instead, I somehow feel like blushing from the compliment.”
“Because you have nothing to fear from me. I am who I am,” he said, spreading his arms wide.
The move did impressive things to his chest, shoulders, and arms, drawing his shirt taut against his skin, revealing the delicious muscles underneath. I resolutely did not think about what he might look like without a shirt. Not once did my mind stray.
That is not how you should be thinking about a kidnapper. Next thing you know, he’s going to invite you into his cult of worshipers or something.
“You say that, and yet, I know nothing about you to back it up,” I challenged, looking him up and down once, and once only, without a pause near the crotch of his pants that were clearly still damp and, therefore, a little sticky.
I definitely did not figure that out from the bulge that was present because people didn’t do that to their kidnappers. Even kidnappers as nice as Vil.
“My name is Vil. I own this house. I saved you from the river. What more do you need to know?”
I rolled my eyes. “All kinds of things. Your social security number. Credit card numbers and expiry. Bank account details. Or, if all that’s off the table, maybe your last name, what you do for a living, and I don’t know, anything?”
“I am a landlord of sorts, I guess. Lots of property with people living on it. I make sure everything functions as it should. I resolve disputes and ensure everyone lives healthy, prosperous lives.”
“That’s got to be the most unique way I’ve ever heard a landlord describe themselves,” I said, still unsure what to make of Vil.
“Good. So you already recognize me as one-of-a-kind, then.”
I gaped. “That … that is not what I meant.”
Vil grinned, and my knees wobbled slightly as I nearly fell over.
He was at my side in a flash, his arm sliding under my shoulders.
I stiffened at his contact. Like the night before, warm heat rolled through my body like a wave, coating me with his touch.
It warmed me from the inside out and sent blood thundering through my body with a wild rush of abandon that had me wanting to throw caution to the wind and give myself over to him completely.
Thankfully, my stomach intervened because if he had brought his head one inch closer, I doubted I could have kept control of myself. My body was growing more animalistic the longer I was in his presence, and despite the aches and pains from the crash, I wasn’t sure it would stop me.
Was it some sort of recovery tool for my mind? Insulating it from what had happened by focusing on something else, in that case, Vil and his insanely attractive body?
“Come on, let’s get you fed,” he urged, leading me to the kitchen. I had a simple sandwich and water, and afterward, I immediately felt better and more focused.
“Thank you,” I said as he cleared my plate and left it on the giant island countertop next to the sink. Like the rest of the house, everything was bigger.
“You’re welcome,” he said before guiding me from the room, deeper into the house, and down a set of stairs.
“Where are we going now?” I asked as we approached a metal door that occupied the entire width of the broad hallway, a single handle against the left-hand side cast from what looked like bronze. It ran the entire length, though there was a large coin-sized hole in the center.
Vil reached out, pressing his hand against the hole while gripping the handle. We paused for a few seconds, and something clicked inside the door, then he pulled it open as it if weighed nothing.
“Now we’re going on the second stage of our journey,” he explained.
The door swung shut behind us, and I stiffened as I heard it lock. I was trapped.
“Vil …” I said warily, stepping away from him as the lights slowly came up. “What are you … What the hell is that?”
In the center of the room, a smooth arch of steel rose from the floor, perhaps twenty feet wide and half that tall at the peak. However, that wasn’t what caught my attention. There was nothing under the arch. Or, more accurately, there was something, but it wasn’t the other side of the room.
A soft silvery glow filled the space underneath it, wavering back and forth like some sort of sheet. Except it was some sort of energy. I could feel the hum.
“This is how we’re going to get to my true home.”
“Your true home? What are you talking about?” I backed away until the door was pressing against my shoulder blades.
Vil looked at me, his eyes bright and a smile resting easily on his lips. Damn, he looked good.
“You wanted to know more about me, right?” he said, extending a hand toward me.
“Right,” I agreed, more than a little nervous.
The smile became a grin that did funny things to my entire body. “Then come and find out.”