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“Like fuck you will,” I growl. “You stay away from her.”

River could do a good job of it. But the idea of him touching Isabella makes me want to murder my only friend in this world.

“You have plenty of willing subjects to play your games with,” I tell him. “This one is mine.”

He smiles again and leans forward on his elbows.

“Then what are you waiting for?” he asks. “Go and get her.”

ONE NIGHT.

I will let her have the night.

I hate this fucking city. I hate Luke, and I hate this hotel. Anyone could get in here.

Anyone like me.

I stand over her bed and watch her sleep. The scent of lavender clouds the room, and this is how I know she is anxious. She always uses the oil when she’s anxious.

There’s a knife on her nightstand. Because she doesn’t feel safe. She shouldn’t.

There are so many predators out there. Predators like me. Predators like Luke. Even now, her phone vibrates from the nightstand with his name. Over and over. Never any peace. It has to stop.

I retrieve her phone and block his number.

Isabella flips over in the bed, and I freeze. It’s not necessary. She isn’t awake.

She is trapped in a tormented sleep, tangled up in the sheets. And now her breasts are visible beneath the sheer material of her tank top.

My hands ache to touch her.To feel her. I take the knife from her nightstand and trace the curve of her skin. She shivers, and it gets me hard.

I want to taste the blood that flows beneath her milky flesh. I want to feel it between my fingers, sliding over my cock. The tip stops just above her breast, and I force myself to drag it away, digging it into my thigh until it burns.

I must be patient. The rest will come. In due time. I know what I need to do.

The pain doesn’t help. It doesn’t keep me from picking up her journal and indulging in the obscenities of her mind. She writes these lyrics every day. Depraved and melancholy. They speak to me. They speak to me in a way that nothing else ever has.

It is a pipeline straight to the fucked up chambers of her deceptively innocent mind. These lyrics she writes are not lyrics at all, but only her own cravings coming out to play. Today’s song is darker than the rest.

I am so hard I can’t control my thoughts anymore. Her clothes are on the bathroom floor. And this isn’t what I came here for. I tell myself to be patient.But I can’t.

I find her panties, and I bring them to my face and inhale. Then I crumple them in my fist and unzip my jeans, wrapping them around my cock.

Isabella breathes in and out, and I watch her. Choking my dick violently with her underwear. Her skin is so pale against the Raven of her hair. So pure and milky and untouched.

I have watched her for so long. I have watched the way she turns up her nose at the boys who look at her. I have read the words in her journal.

The confessions of her raw desires.

She is a virgin.

An angel.

I’ve never had the opportunity to ruin something so beautiful before.

Her hair spills over her shoulders and skates across her nipples. Small and pink and hard against the thin fabric. I want them in my mouth. I want them on my face and on my cock. I want so much to feel her from the inside. To fuck her until I can’t anymore.

This is neurosis. Fervent and miserable. The agony consumes me from the inside out.

I will destroy her. I will destroy everything divine left inside of her.

Coming on a choked sigh, I spill myself into her panties. I shove them in my pocket and keep them.

The man in me tells me to leave. The animal won’t let me. I walk to her bed and sit down beside her. She is within arm’s reach. But I won’t allow myself to touch her.

Beautiful things must be admired from afar. Beautiful things must not be touched. That’s what he always used to tell me.

He was wrong.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WHEN I WAKE, I am well rested. I felt at peace if only for a few hours. The room is still dim, but a familiar scent lingers.

A scent that feels like home. One that feels like comfort.

I roll over to retrieve my phone from the nightstand but stop short. The phone isn’t there. Something else is though.

A solitary red rose.

So beautiful, so flawless, I almost don’t believe it’s real. At least until I bring the delicate petals to my face and breathe in the familiar scent of wild beauty.

And now I know for certain that I have not imagined it. The scent that always seems to surround me is not a figment of my imagination, and the rose petals at my house have not simply been carried there by the breeze.

Fear settles over me like a cold blanket as the stem falls from my fingers, the petals wilting to the floor.

If not the wind, then who?

I wrap my hands around the sheet and squeeze as my eyes dart around the shadowed room. I don’t see anyone. I don’t see a thing. But someone was here. In my room. And they left this rose right beside me.

The curtains are long and dark, and I’m too afraid of what might be hiding behind them. I’m too afraid of my own shadow right now to stay here another second.

I bolt for the door without grabbing anything. Not even a pair of shoes or my room key. Fear has taken the wheel now, and nothing is safe.

I have no idea where I’m going. What I’m doing. I just know that I need to leave. I need to get out of here. I punch the down button for the elevator repeatedly, but it’s taking too long. My mind is wild with possibilities. And it keeps circling back to one thing.

Luke.

Did he do this? Has he been playing tricks on me all along? Is he watching me right now, savoring my fear?

I can’t stand the wait. My heart is going to explode. My lungs are going to give out. Already, I can feel the air slipping away.

I bolt for the stairwell and run down three levels, listening for steps behind me.

They never come. They never come, and I am relieved. I can breathe again when I pass the second level. One more to go, and then I will be free. It is so close I can taste it. The fresh air. The escape.

I look back one last time as I fling open the heavy door. The door to freedom. But freedom is obstructed by a wall. The wall of a hard chest in front of me.

I was looking in the wrong direction. Because monsters don’t always come from the darkness.

Sometimes, they hide in broad daylight.

CHAPTER NINE

BEFORE I EVEN OPEN MY eyes, a vivid and familiar scent hits me.

Wild roses.

I am surrounded by wild roses.

They are the first thing I notice when I come to. And they are everywhere. Crimson and soft velvet perched upon delicate stems riddled with thorns.

My eyes are dry and heavy, but a tear leaks from the corner and spills over onto my cheek. I don’t want to accept my reality. I don’t want to accept that this is anything more than a dream. But the high arched glass ceilings only confirm that I am trapped in a nightmare instead. A beautiful nightmare, with stars as far as the eye can see.

It’s a conservatory. I’m in a conservatory. On a bed. Surrounded by roses and stars.

This is not a place I have ever been. And yet, it feels acquainted to me. A place from my memories.

My father used to speak of a place like this. A mansion in the forest. Moldavia, he said it was called. I didn’t know where it was. At times, I often wondered if it even existed, the way he spoke of it.

But I recognize the architectural style. I recognize the trees outside the windows. They are things that I know can’t be a coincidence. There is no doubt in my mind that I am at Moldavia. And the person who was leaving rose petals at my door all along was really Javi.

The same man who refused to meet with me.The one I was so desperate to meet before.

I wonder now if Art knew. If he knew how dangerous Javi was and he was just trying to prot

ect me. I can’t understand it. Nothing about this makes sense.

Has it been Javi all along? Has he been the one who has watched my every move for...

I shudder to think of how long it's been.

That terror seeps into every one of my bones when I try to move and I can't. I am bound by my wrists to the bed frame.

My lungs burn with the need for air, and I can’t think. I want to scream, but I am paralyzed.

Javi murdered his own mother. That's what his file said. And now he's going to murder me too. Tears well up in my eyes and I silently curse my father, wondering why he ever brought Javi into his life. Into our lives.

With a jolt, I ride the rollercoaster of emotions. Hatred. Anger. Paranoia. And then, finally, determination.

I'm struggling to pull free from my bonds when the sound of a door echoes through the cavernous space. A draft blankets the room before I ever see the shape of him.

Even then, it is all I can see.

He stalks around the perimeter like the predator he is, remaining shrouded in darkness. His hood is up, and his head is tilted down. A wildly overgrown beard is the only unobscured detail beneath the shadow of his cloak.