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The sight of Sebastian’s house awed Serenity. Though Sebastian had called them a cab to take them to his house in the hills, a silver Audi sat on the long gravel driveway. She stepped through the heavy, oak front door and into the extensive hall, her mouth hung agape. Standing in his entrance hall, she turned in a slow circle, her eyes wide.
His home stunned her. The obvious wealth also confirmed her suspicions about him being into something he shouldn’t: organized crime or drugs. At least now she partly understood his reason for being secretive with her. She’d known there was something different about him. Normal people didn’t live in houses like this—hell, this wasn’t a house, this was a mansion.
Sebastian stood with his arms folded across his broad chest, watching her. A ghost of a smile lingered on his face.
“What the hell are you?” she said in amazement.
His pale face blanched further and he asked, “What do you mean?”
“Are you a drug baron? An internet millionaire? Or did a rich aunt die?”
The shock melted from his face. “Oh, right,” he shook his head slightly, as though jerking himself awake. “I guess you could say I came into some money a long time ago and invested wisely.”
“Jesus,” she said, still taking in her surroundings. “You can say that again. Care to share any tips?”
He grinned at her but didn’t answer.
Serenity’s astonishment at Sebastian’s wealth made her forget Jackson’s death for a moment but suddenly the immensity of the last twenty-four hours crashed down around her. Exhaustion fell like a cloak over her head and shoulders, and she slumped, shoulders rounding, back curled.
Sebastian’s smile disappeared. He was at her side so quickly she didn’t even see him move.
“It’s late,” he said. Arm curled gently around her waist, he guided her toward the huge staircase wrapped against the back wall. “Maybe you should lie down?”
Serenity nodded and allowed herself to be led. The strength of his arm lent comfort and she leaned into the curve of his bicep. Sebastian guided her up to one of the bedrooms. The room was staged like a luxurious hotel complete with a four poster bed, expensive lamps and one thousand thread count sheets. But, like a hotel room, the room felt cold and unlived in. Serenity didn’t think for a moment this was Sebastian’s room. He was too much of a gentleman to take her to his own bed, yet the rest of the house reflected this impersonal space. No photographs hung on the walls or half-read books left on the table. In short; there was nothing to say anyone actually lived here.
Gently, Sebastian lifted her on the bed and she sat with her feet hanging off the side. He knelt before her and carefully pulled off her shoes and then lifted her feet onto the soft mattress.
His tenderness touched something deep inside her.
“Hey,” she protested. “I’m not an invalid. I don’t need to be looked after.”
Sebastian joined her on the bed and took Serenity’s hand. “I think it’s been a long time since anyone looked after you.”
A sad smile flitted over her face and she reclined on her side and tugged at his hand, pulling him down beside her. They lay, face-to-face, watching each other.
Sebastian reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her brow. His hand remained for a moment, cool fingertips touching her warm cheek.
She reached up and covered the back of his hand with the palm of her own. He was always so cold, but she held his palm close against her cheek, relishing the chill against her feverish skin.
Her eyelids drooped.
Serenity wanted to stay awake, to stay in the moment with him, but she could feel her eyes shutting and wrestled them open again. She always seemed to be sleeping; everything she’d been through over the last couple of days had sapped her strength.
“Shush,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “You’re allowed to sleep.”
She felt herself drifting. The pillow was incredibly soft beneath her face and she sank into its depths.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” she asked, exhaustion thickening her voice.
Though sinking deep, oblivion swallowing her, she could have sworn he said, ‘no’.
A nightmare held her in its grip.
In her dream, she stood next to the sink in her kitchen, as she had before. Her fingers clutched the handle of the knife so tightly her knuckles strained white. Heavy footsteps fell in the hallway and the old terror Jackson’s presence instilled wrapped around her heart. Somewhere, deep down, she knew he was dead and this couldn’t be happening but she’d buried the knowledge in an unreachable place. Her focus was on the scene before her.
The footsteps thumped closer. Horror gripped her. The image of Jackson after she stabbed him filled her mind; shock and disbelief in his eyes, the blood, the way his glasses lay askew on his face. She was certain the Jackson heading toward her would look the same as he had the moment she’d murdered him.
Then he walked into the room and, with a mixture of relief and horror, she saw him as he’d always been: aggressive, cocky, hostile.
Serenity stood rooted by the kitchen sink. He walked up to her and the tight grip she had on the hilt dissolved. Her fingers fell away and Jackson plucked the knife from her hand; his presence sapped her strength.
Every detail of his face leaped out at her—the old acne marks on his skin, the gold filling in his molar, the flecks of white in his eyebrows—everything in crystal clear detail. Yet still she couldn’t move.
His face broke into a snide, scornful smile and he erupted into mocking laughter. This time anger didn’t take over. Instead, fear filled her and still she couldn’t move.
He would kill her, he would take his revenge. One important thought occupied her mind; where was Sebastian?
Then she realized the reason for his absence. Daylight filtered through the kitchen window, sun flooded the hallway. Sebastian wouldn’t be here; she never saw him in the light.
Something vitally important flitted through her consciousness and she tried to grab hold of it.
But, before she had time to analyze the idea that something significant had crossed her mind, the Jackson of her dream launched at her. He plunged the knife deep under her ribs, the sensation similar to a punch in the diaphragm. Pulling the knife out, he stabbed her left arm. Pain shot through her and she tried to cry out, but couldn’t. All she wanted to do was move away from him, raise her arm—anything!
The knife stabbed repeatedly, the pain as real as anything she’d ever experienced before. Jackson’s face pressed against hers, his breath washing over her in putrid waves of stale alcohol and death, his eyes bulging, accusatory and full of hate.
You can’t feel pain in a dream! Her panicked mind thought. Oh my God, this is real, this is real! I’m going to die....
Bursting from the dream, she bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath. A thin sheen of sweat covered her skin and her clothes clung to her, damp and uncomfortable. Her left arm was completely numb and for an instant her dream followed her into wakefulness. Serenity glanced down, expecting to see her flesh hacked to pieces. Instead, an imprint of the sheets marked her skin where her limb had been squashed between her body and the bed. She breathed a sigh of relief. With the blood flow restored to her arm, pins and needles prickled her flesh.
Once again, she was alone.
Serenity rubbed at her arm, flexing her hand back and forth, trying to get rid of the horrible, buzzing sensation. The feeling was too similar to the stabbing and she desperately wanted it to stop.
The dream stuck with her, surrounding Serenity like a dirty aura. This reverie she wouldn’t be able to shake off. The reality was almost as bad as the nightmare.
From somewhere downstairs came three resonating chimes from a grandfather clock.
The horror of what she had done dragged on her heart like a physical weight.
Serenity shuddered. She wanted to roll over and go back to sleep for good. Understandably, she continued to struggle with what she had done, that grief couldn’t be healed in a day, but she warred with her emotions. She felt a strange mixture of fear, guilt, relief and anticipation. Part of her wallowed in the terrible act she’d committed, but the other part of her—the one arguing that it wasn’t her fault when Jackson hit her—desperately wanted to push the incident away and focus on the possibility of her new life. She wanted to wrap herself in thoughts of Sebastian and forget all the horrors of her past.
Even though parts of her wanted to run screaming from what had happened, Serenity wouldn’t change meeting Sebastian. He had given her the strength to finally stand up for herself, despite the horrendous consequences.
If asked to choose between Jackson still being alive and meeting Sebastian, she would have been too ashamed to give an answer.
To think she had only met him a few days ago was crazy. How could someone she barely knew have such a huge effect on her life?
She longed for his presence. Perhaps he slept in another part of the house, in his own room. It was three in the morning, after all. Where else would he be?
Serenity swung her legs over the side of the bed. Sebastian had left a table lamp on for her and it cast a warm glow across the room. Her stomach grumbled ominously and she realized she was ravenous. She thought back and couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. It certainly hadn’t been anytime in the last twenty-four hours.
Her mind conjured images of crispy strips of bacon and soft scrambled egg, all piled on top of hot, buttered toast, and her mouth watered. The rumble turned into an actual pang and she jumped off the bed and padded across the thick, cream carpet to the bedroom door. Slowly, she opened the door and peered out to an empty hallway. Her ears pricked for any sounds of Sebastian, but the house remained silent.
Four other doors led off the hallway and she walked past each to get to the stairs. She hoped Sebastian would appear from one of the doorways, or she’d hear the deep breathing of a man sleeping, but from behind each one came silence accompanied by the feeling of emptiness.
If he wasn’t in bed, where was he?
Serenity made her way down the huge staircase and crossed the hall into the kitchen. Despite her hopes, he was nowhere to be seen.
A white piece of paper had been stuck conspicuously to the black marble counter top. A smile lit her face as she crossed the room and picked up the slip of paper. She didn’t need to start reading to know the note was for her.
‘Serenity, help yourself to whatever you want. I have some business to attend. Sorry to disappear again. I would rather be with you.’
He’d finished the note with a couple of ‘X’s and she smiled and touched the kisses with her fingertips.
The promise of food distracted her. She put the letter down and headed for the double-door refrigerator.
Food bulged from every shelf: smoked bacon, fresh orange juice, white chocolate cheesecake, quiche, brie, butter, sausages, bagels, fresh blueberries and strawberries, whipped cream, ring doughnuts with pink icing and sprinkles, pastries.
Every food she’d ever dreamed of eating.
Overcome by the need to eat, Serenity grabbed the closest items. Opening boxes and packets, she stuffed quiche, slices of cheese, and smoked ham into her mouth. Despite her dreams of bacon and eggs, Serenity didn’t have the patience to wait for anything to cook and ate whatever she could straight out of the fridge. Finishing the savories, she washed them down with a couple of long swigs of orange juice and started on dessert.
She ate so fast, her stomach barely registered the amount she’d consumed, and as she pushed the last piece of doughnut into her mouth she realized how full she was. Serenity groaned and laughed at the same time. If Sebastian came back now and found her in the middle of this binge, she’d be mortified. Jackson always commented if she put real butter on her bread or sugar in her coffee, now here she was consuming the entire contents of the refrigerator.
She looked around at all the open packets and frowned. Everything she’d eaten had been brand new. There’d been no open packets of cheese or half-used tubs of butter. Cartons of milk were all full and unopened, as was the orange juice before she started on it. It looked as though he had cleared out everything before her arrival and refilled it again.
The frown deepened. Did he actually live here?
A chill run down Serenity’s back; ghostly fingers tracing her spine, across her shoulders. The house felt too big, too empty, and she suddenly wanted to be back in her tiny duplex again. This place had a strange atmosphere, cold and impersonal, more like a museum than a home. Without Sebastian, it was almost unwelcoming.
She shivered again and, with her stomach full to the point of being uncomfortable, she decided she would rather be tucked up in the huge bed than down here in the cold kitchen.
Barefoot, she crossed the cold tiles, heading back across the hallway to the staircase.
A flash of movement cut through the air in front of her, inches from her face. Serenity shrieked and stumbled back.
Rising from a crouch, a tall, red-haired woman stood to her full height. The female seemed to have dropped from the sky. Serenity stared in shock.
The newcomer took her breath away. Red hair sprung in wild curls around her face. Her porcelain skin was flawless, her eyes bright green. She was as slender as a catwalk model, with none of the extra bumps or bulges Serenity had been conscious of her whole life.
“What the...?” But Serenity couldn’t find the words.
The woman tossed her hair back and smirked. She eyed Serenity up and down, and Serenity shrank beneath her gaze.
“He’s a fool for bringing you here,” she said, her voice tinged with a faint accent, her tone as smooth as warm honey. “I never thought he would be so stupid.”
“Who are you?” Serenity said, managing a hoarse whisper.
The red-head reached out and pushed Serenity’s hair away from her face, back over her shoulder, mimicking her own actions. Serenity jerked away.
“You’re just his little human pet.”
“What?” Though confused and frightened, her anger flared. “Who the hell are you? What are you doing in Sebastian’s house?”
“Oh, Sebastian and I are old friends.”
“Old friends?” Serenity didn’t think she’d imagined that this strange and intimidating woman implied something more.
Surprise and laughter danced behind the woman’s strange, brilliant eyes.
“You don’t know, do you?” she laughed. “He hasn’t told you what he is?”
Serenity’s cheeks burned with shame. She hated that this woman seemed to know more about Sebastian than she did.
“I know enough.”
She laughed again and Serenity wanted to slap her perfect face. The laughter disappeared and her face grew hard.
“You have no idea what you’ve got yourself into.”
Guilt rose inside her like a tidal wave, heat coloring her skin further. The strange woman’s words rang in her head. ‘Got yourself into...’
Anyone might have read the guilt on her face, but this woman’s perception was uncanny.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “I know what you did to your husband, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” She leaned in closer. “Are you so stupid you haven’t even noticed the things that are different about him?”
She reached out and grabbed Serenity’s hand.
Cold! So cold!
Serenity tried to pull away but the woman was freakishly strong.
“Recognize how cold I am? Just like Sebastian,” she said. “What about how he never sleeps? That he never eats or drinks?”
A flicker from her nightmare rose in her mind, but she shook her head, tossing the thought away. She didn’t want to know. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to know.
“Shut up,” she shouted, and the woman dropped her hand. “Just go away. Leave me alone!”
Serenity put her hands over her ears. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her face.
“Little baby,” the woman spat. “What does he see in you?”
Forcing herself to stand straight, Serenity wiped the tears away. “Get out of here,” she demanded, her voice hard.
The woman looked surprised, but it didn’t last for long. The smirk returned and she looked like Jackson had in the kitchen. Rage boiled through Serenity; a fissure of an underwater volcano.
Surprising herself, she lashed out, her palm flattened, fully intending to slap the obnoxious woman in the face, but her hand never made it that far. The woman caught Serenity’s wrist in a cold, hard, grip. It came out of nowhere; she hadn’t even seen the woman’s arm move. Her strength was unworldly and Serenity stared at her hand in a mixture of shock, amazement and horror.
She tried to pull away, but the woman held strong and her hand didn’t even budge. Her arm might have been bound in concrete.
“Tell Sebastian he’s playing with fire,” the woman said, her eyes narrowed. “Tell him I’ve met his little pet bitch now and if he doesn’t start behaving himself, I’ll make sure I undo all his good work.”
She hissed—actually hissed like a snake—and Serenity was sure she’d seen too much white between her perfect red lips.
The woman sprang away, leaping from Serenity with such speed she appeared as no more than a blur. Serenity caught sight of her again for the briefest of moments in the middle of the staircase and once again in the window, and then she was gone. Serenity felt the difference in the atmosphere, a palpable change in the way the air was charged.
She knew one thing for sure; whatever the woman was, human didn’t figure among her qualities.