She continued to frown. “Better?”
“You push my control.”
She didn’t know if that was a compliment. “Sorry?”
He sighed and glanced at the door. “Stay the night with me, not because you can’t find your way home in the dark or because you feel like a prisoner here, but because you want to.”
“You’d really let me leave?”
“If that’s what you truly wanted, I wouldn’t stop you.”
Somehow knowing she had the freedom to leave made staying less frustrating. If she could just walk out the door, she’d rather do it in daylight. “If I stay, will we...”
His chest expanded. “I want it to mean as much to you as it does to me.”
Her lips twisted. “I’m not—”
“I know. Which is another reason why I stopped.”
Now that she felt less like a hostage, she saw a bit of that honor everyone claimed he had. “It would be really great if you actually were a good guy.”
He smiled. “I plan on spending the rest of my life proving that to you.”
She was undecided if she’d leave tomorrow or stay a few days, but she liked this side of him. “I’ll stay tonight.”
His hand reached for hers and squeezed. “That makes the fear of thinking you might leave worth the worry. I prefer you to be here of your own free will.”
That made two of them.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Come to me.”
Annalise awoke, strangely relieved to find herself still in Adam’s room and disappointed to find herself alone. The dark curtain covering the window illuminated with a pre-dawn glow of silver and blue. She swept her hair away from her face and touched her toes to the cool wood flooring.
“Come to me.”
Adam’s voice whispered through the walls. Her gown fell in gossamer ripples to the floor. Though the morning light shined through the curtains, the hall was dark.
“Adam?”
“Come to me.”
She stepped into the hall only to find herself standing amid a dark forest. Creatures chirped and hummed from every direction. The skeletal silhouette of a leafless tree towered in the distance. She’d been here before.
“Adam?” Her call echoed, emphasizing the hollow distance and vastness that surrounded her.
She strode deeper into the woods, not yet penetrated by the encroaching dawn. The fresh air wore the scent of rain, awakening the earthy smells of the forest and pulling her deeper into its secrets.
Dragging her fingers along the palm of a long fern, she sucked in a breath and jerked her fingers to her mouth. The metallic taste of blood met her tongue.
She examined the damage. Nothing more than a paper cut. She should keep moving.
Her next step landed awkwardly, and she slipped, catching a branch and steadying her balance. She lifted the piece of fruit that tripped her. An orange.
The bright golden peel vibrantly contrasted the gray surroundings. Her thumb pierced the rind and the fruit split open, a sticky trickle escaping down her thumb to her wrist and racing all the way to her elbow.
So thirsty.
She pulled the rind apart, drawing the dark red pulp to her lips and sucking the juice. “Mmm.”
She peeled more of the skin and sank her teeth into the fruit. The pulp was so dark with juice, the inner pink flesh stained her fingers with crimson. It must be a blood orange. She drank from the tissue, a crush of flavor so intense she spared nothing.
Drippings dampened the front of her gown, but for the first time in a long time, her thirst was quenched. But only for a moment.
She tossed the hollow rind away and continued toward an old tree that drew her near. The air wore a sweet perfume that lured her.
Chirps clicked and squeaked from unseen shadows, materializing in a tonal roar so loud it seemed audibly tangible. Her thirst returned. The sultry heat drained her body until she could barely swallow.
She searched the forest floor for water. A brook or a puddle. Anything. But the ground wavered and her equilibrium shifted. When she looked up, a plump orange dangled from a decrepit branch as if it were a relic from the Garden of Eden, placed there simply to tempt her.
She pulled it from the vine and ripped it open, gorging herself on the sweet center. She fed from the fruit with such gluttony she lost sight of her surroundings.
Something brushed her foot and she lifted her face from the orange, her lips dripping with crimson and her tongue slowly licking along her teeth.
The insidious chirping smothered all other sound, darkness snuffing out all light. The tree rippled as if the branches were alive and something tumbled to the ground.
She staggered on the unsteady ground, the earth tickling at her feet, hoping to find another orange. She squinted through the dark as something, no larger than a hummingbird, flapped and tossed around on the ground. She edged closer, trying to see if it was wounded.