Twisted Kingdom (Royal Elite 3)

Perhaps my ears are damaged because I could swear I just heard Aiden say he won’t touch me.

His strongest weapon has always been physical intimidation. Hell, except for today, I’ve always become a wanton mess in his hands.

I narrow my eyes. “Is that a promise? Not touching me, I mean.”

“Until you forgive me, I won’t fuck you.”

“Which means never.”

“Believe me, sweetheart. When you know the truth, you’ll beg for it.”

Dinner with Aunt and Uncle never felt so awkward.

Aunt is walking on eggshells around me and Uncle seems as if he doesn’t know what to say to dissipate the tension.

“Are you taking your meds?” Aunt asks while cutting shrimp and putting it on my plate. “You have an appointment with Dr Albert soon, so you have to watch your calorie intake and —”

“Blair,” Uncle cuts her off.

“Right.” She touches her temple. “You’re with Ethan now. It’s none of my business. Old habits die hard, I guess. Did he at least book your appointment? I emailed him all the dates colour-coded. There are tests and consultations and —”

“Blair.” Uncle touches her arm.

“Fine, fine. Let’s just eat.”

But she doesn’t just eat. Aunt basically empties the entire table on my plate.

“I forgot the soup.” She stands up. “I knew I forgot something.”

“Is she okay?” I ask Uncle after she disappears into the kitchen.

“She just needs time to get used to the new change. It’s not easy on her.”

I nod.

Uncle clears his throat. “Blair has always felt guilty about Abigail, she just didn’t show it. I’m not asking you to forgive her, but can you at least try to understand? She was shaking the entire way to Birmingham the other day. She loathes that place with a passion.”

My hands pause on the knife and fork.

I can relate to her. It’s not easy to go back to a place that traumatised you. During my entire stay at our house in Birmingham, I never had a full night’s sleep.

Not to mention the basement.

It’s still there at the far end of the tower, taunting me to come close and relieve bloodied memories.

Dr Khan said revisiting the place where a trauma started can trigger my subconscious. Dad also said that the basement now has a fingerprint-lock that I can open any time I like.

Truth is, I’m scared of that basement.

I’m scared to know what happened in there. If I step over that line, I would never be able to return.

I have the scar to prove it.

Maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to learn more monstrous things about Ma.

“Eat, pumpkin.” Uncle offers me his warmest smile. “She spent the entire day preparing this dinner.”

I swallow past the clog in my throat and take a bite of the shrimp. It’s hard to taste over the stickiness at the roof of my mouth.