Page 11

AURELIA

“ C assieeeeeee!”

The mountain’s gale picks up my scream and carries it off where it’s lost forever. Never to be heard.

It’s been five minutes since I heard Cassie calling for me, five long minutes since I chose to leave the safety of the plane to find her. With the blizzard, I have no idea which direction I wandered or if it was even the right one. Cassie’s been alarmingly silent ever since.

Each step forward costs me everything.

The minutes tick by, but the storm goes on.

So do I.

I can’t feel my hands, face, or feet, but I keep going because it’s all I have. The hope is that Tyler and Cassie are alive, and I’m not on this cursed mountain alone.

Harrison’s too-large coat is heavy on my shoulders as it sweeps my ankles. I knew I’d never survive without some protection, so I took my dead bodyguard’s long coat and the axe I found in what was left of the cockpit before I set out to find my assistant.

Sucking in the thin mountain air, I ignore my ravaged throat and call out for her again. “Cassieeeeeeee!”

Only the howling wind answers back.

I don’t know if something happened to my assistant or if I’ve wandered too far. I’m already turning to switch directions when I hear a deep, rumbling sound that would have sent a chill down my spine if I weren’t already in the early stages of hypothermia.

Heart pounding, I take off in the opposite direction, needing to flee whatever new terror made that sound. I rush through the woods and look for a way back to the plane.

All I find is more debris.

Lots of it.

There’s a trail that leads back the way I came—or at least I think it’s the way I came.

I’m clearly lost, so I follow the scattered detritus.

Foolishly, I allow myself to hope that I’ll find my way back until I see something ahead that makes me stop.

Crimson in the snow.

Blood.

An alarming amount.

I spot Cassie’s blue and purple striped scarf lying two feet away from it and suck in a breath.

“Cassie!” I yell again as I rush forward. “Cassie, where are you?” Reaching her scarf, I fall to my knees and slowly lift it from the ground. It hurts to move, but I stuff it inside Harrison’s pocket anyway. Cassie will need it when I find her. This cold is too unbearable, too unrelenting.

“Cassie!” I croak. “Cassie, please answer me!”

Yanked free of my nightmare, the disorientation when I wake feels familiar. The lingering exhaustion that clings to me is reminiscent of my days on tour. Living on the road for months on end is a hard life, even when you’re at the top, flying on private jets and staying in the best hotels.

Thinking of the day that must be ahead of me, I will my eyes open even though I can’t remember what my uncle has booked for me.

A flight?

No, that’s not right.

I’m supposed to be on set today for the first-ever live recording of the talent competition I’m judging—alongside Tania’s crumbing ass. I tell myself just a few more minutes and shift from my back to my side.

The bed I’m in is soft enough and warm, but the sheets are completely unacceptable. The fiber feels rough against my bare legs, as if it has a thread count of two.

I make a mental note to speak to Cassie.

Used to waking up in strange beds, I’m not alarmed in the slightest that the one I’m in isn’t mine. I snuggle a little deeper into the pillow with my eyes still firmly shut.

The scent that greets me, though, keeps me from falling back asleep.

Amber, with a hint of juniper, but the latter doesn’t feel like it belongs. Both scents stir memories that aren’t mine.

Or, at least, they shouldn’t be.

I add it to the growing list of things Cassie will need to fix if she wants to keep her job.

The memory of the last time I saw her pops into my head as I start to doze again. Her unseeing gaze staring up at me from the frozen ground where she’s lying in a pool of crimson. I hear the thunk of something hard and heavy falling to the ground, and when I look down, I see a bloody axe lying next to my feet.

No.

Sure, Cassie’s a shitty fucking assistant, but surely…

Lifting my hands, the white forest around me spins when I see that my palms are equally red, and then I hear that terrifying growl…

My eyes fly open, and I sit up with a gasp, my hands clutching the blanket and sheets covering me from the waist down as my gaze darts to every corner of the room. It’s day, so there are no shadows to taunt me, only the ones my mind creates.

It wasn’t a dream.

It was real.

Panic fuses with my blood, turning it cold when it all comes rushing back, and I realize where I am.

Northern Canada.

The mountains.

The wilds.

The cabin.

The animals who inhabit it.

The bed of twisted branches.

Khalil’s bed.

I’m in Khalil’s bed, and I’m alone. I don’t know for how long. I have to run while I still can—before they remember me and pick up where they left off.

Tearing the thick blanket away, I get my first glance at my bare feet and legs. I’m wearing a green and black wool flannel shirt instead of my dress, and it’s two sizes too big, so the hem reaches the top of my thighs. On my right leg, there’s a fresh white bandage wrapped around my knee, and matching ones are on both of my arms where the worst of the frostbite is located. When I feel something pulling at the skin near my hairline, I carefully reach up and wince when I touch the stitches there. The list of injuries grows longer when I discover an IV in my arm, a gauze pad taped to my cheek, and another on the back of my right hand.

I feel fine, considering, but I know I must look a mess. Even though my uncle isn’t here, I can still hear him berating me for not upholding the standard of my name.

I’m never allowed in the public eye without first being plucked and primped for hours. Hell, I’m still expected to groom myself meticulously even when I’m sick and bedridden. “You are a role model, Aurelia. It’s not enough to simply appear as one. You must behave like one.”

Rescue could come any day now.

I need to be prepared.

I’d nearly driven Tyler mad during our three days in the wild, constantly picking and fretting at my clothes and hair and bemoaning the absence of my luggage while he fought to keep us alive.

Noticing a mirror on the dresser, I rise from the bed on unsteady legs and remove the IV from my arm before I limp to the other side of the room.

I’m horrified by what I find.

It’s even worse than I imagined. The reflection that greets me doesn’t look like my own.

My once vibrant curls, which require meticulous care to manage, are now dry, frizzy, and fraying at the ends. The dark circles under my eyes make me look like I haven’t slept in days, even though it feels like I just woke up from a coma. Meanwhile, the parts of my skin that aren’t covered in bandages have turned mottled from bruising.

I’m still fussing with my appearance when I hear a creak on the wooden floor, and I startle, realizing I’m not alone.

I don’t hear or see him, but his presence is electric—charged up and full of stifled fury, drama, and danger. He appears relaxed as he watches me from the door, but I know he’s in desperate need of release—somewhere for all that pent-up energy to go. I push that thought away since I know what kind of release he’ll be looking for.

“Women,” Khalil says derisively. My only window to escape is closed now that he knows I’m conscious and moving around. “You’ve been through more trauma in a week than most people suffer their entire lives, and your first concern is your hair?”

I pause but don’t let my shame do more than raise its ugly head before I burn it to cinders with a flame thrower. I’m proud of how unaffected I sound as I continue to stare into the mirror while using my finger to try to fluff my clumped lashes. “Who says worrying about how I look isn’t just another trauma?” I speak truthfully. From the corner of my eye, I see his lips part to respond, but I’m far from finished. “It’s bold of you to assume that you’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me when you’re not even in the starting five.”

“Oh? I’m all ears, Goldilocks. Tell me your secrets.”

“Tell me yours,” I retort. When he doesn’t respond, I release a quiet laugh in case his ego can’t handle being mocked. “Didn’t think so.” Standing back, I look over my appearance before deciding that it’s the best I can do without my makeup bag or toiletries. The only useful things I’ll probably find in this cabin are shaving cream and a razor.

After too much time, I finally allow my gaze to leave the mirror and travel to the door where Khalil is standing.

He’s wearing a stark white muscle shirt that makes his brown skin even more striking, while the deep holes where the sleeves should be shows off his muscular physique—particularly his arms and obliques. His dark plaits are hanging down today instead of pulled back like the last time I saw him.

Which was…

The question forms on my tongue, but I stop it from passing my lips because on the heels of how long I was out is what they might have done to me while I was unconscious.

I wouldn’t put it past one of them to have a Sleeping Beauty kink.

If the situation was different and I didn’t despise them, I wouldn’t be so opposed to trying that one out. Alas, I hate them with every fiber of my being, and I’m praying minutely that I’m long gone before they get the urge to assault me again.

Especially since the man in front of me looks like a walking, talking fantasy as his lips move.

Villains shouldn’t be allowed to look panty-dropping gorgeous.

Thankfully, I’m not wearing any.

Wait…

I’m not wearing any.

Why aren’t I wearing any again?

“Did you hear me?” Khalil snaps, making me realize I hadn’t.

I hide the anxiety building in my belly by shooting him an equally annoyed look. “Obviously not, Khalil.”

“I asked if you’re hungry.”

Ignoring his offer, which definitely comes with strings, I ask him a question of my own. “Where are my clothes? Why am I wearing this?”

“Aurelia,” he says with an impatient sigh. “I asked you a question.”

I start to tell him where he can shove his questions when his brows rise like he read my mind and is daring me to do it.

Gulping, my lips tremble as I take one breath and two steps back.

I want to be strong and pretend I’m bulletproof, but it’s hard when I remember what they did to me. I can still feel their hands on me—shoving, grabbing, and taking the only parts of me I had left that were just mine.

Whatever appetite I had flees from the rising memories. Still, I’m not entirely led by my emotions. Logic tells me that if I refuse the meal, they might not offer another one.

At least not for free.

I give a small nod, and Khalil turns to walk out without a word.

I gape at the empty door where he disappeared before I realize I’m meant to follow him. Stealing a few more moments to don my armor, I leave the haven of this room where nothing bad has happened to me yet.

Entering the den, I keep my gaze pinned straight ahead and on the stairs. I don’t want to risk looking around and remembering what happened to me in this room.

The thick calf socks on my feet are too big, but they protect my feet from the cold floor as I shuffle my way upstairs. The cabin is quiet but warm, and I still haven’t seen Thorin or Seth yet, so I’m half expecting one of them to jump me out of nowhere.

I make it upstairs unscathed.

Standing on the landing, I look around but still don’t see them. I hear Khalil in the kitchen, so I creep over there and peer around the corner. He’s got his back turned to me, and I can’t help but notice how strong it looks.

He’ll have no problem holding me down when he decides to use me again.

The muscles are bunched like he’s tense, and I realize why when he says, “Stop watching me like you think I’m going to eat you and sit. Your breakfast is getting cold.”

It’s then that I notice the plate on the table.

There are scrambled eggs that look runny, dried meat, and diced potatoes.

“If there’s no town nearby,” I ask as I take a seat, “how do you guys keep from starving?”

“The same way our ancestors’ ancestors’ ancestors’ ancestors did before the invention of markets, Aurelia. We hunt, grow, gather, and store.”

I roll my eyes but don’t respond to the obvious lie. I saw the deer carcass, so I know he’s telling the truth about hunting, but I don’t remember seeing a fucking garden on my way in. I’m still eyeing my food like it’s a time bomb when he finally turns away from the counter.

“What’s wrong now?”

“Last time you fed me, you put something in my food.”

I’m not sure how I expected him to respond to my accusation, but I know I wasn’t expecting him to laugh. It’s heartless and obnoxious, just like him. “We didn’t drug you, Aurelia. You passed the fuck out.”

“What? I don’t remember that.” The last thing I recall is Thorin telling me I was safe, and then…nothing.

“Well, you wouldn’t, would you? You were unconscious.”

“Who did all of this?” I ask, gesturing to my bandages and clothing. My skin looks and feels clean, too, like I’d been bathed. I even have a vague memory of one of them brushing my teeth and washing my hair.

It’s a kindness that, when coming from them, just feels like more of a violation.

“Thorin patched you up. He has some medical training from his time in the Marines. Not much, but enough.”

“Well, it wasn’t necessary. I wasn’t injured.” God knows what they must have done to me after I was out. My body hurt all over like someone took a bat to it.

Or dropped a plane on it.

“Yes, you were, Aurelia. Extensively. You were hypothermic, frostbitten, and severely dehydrated, among other things.

“I…I didn’t know. I felt a little sore, but that’s it.”

Khalil shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “What the cold didn’t numb, the adrenaline suppressed until it finally wore off. I guess your body couldn’t handle the stress of your injuries, and it shut down your brain so you could heal.”

Or my mind just didn’t want to deal with what they did to me.

Thorin’s voice enters my mind. “You’re safe here.”

“How long have I been out?” I finally allow myself to ask.

“You’ve been in and out for four days.”

My food threatens to come back up.

Four more days have passed, and no one’s found me yet.

Is anyone even still looking, or have they called off the search already?

I try to imagine the headlines. Immediately, I hate myself for it.

How empty must my life be that it’s my first thought? There’s no mother, father, or boyfriend who might care if I’m found. I don’t even have a dog or cat to worry about starving to death in my absence—only millions of adoring fans and critics who probably think I got what I deserved.

“You should have died,” Khalil announces without care. “You shouldn’t have been able to find us. We went through a lot of trouble to ensure that.”

“Your point?”

“Now that I know you, my guess is you were too stubborn to die.”

“You don’t know me,” I whisper, my voice thick with some unnamed emotion.

“Baby, I doubt you even know you.”

My grip tightens around my fork. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means it doesn’t take an expert in Aurelia George to see that you’re spiraling.”

The food in my mouth suddenly turns to ash. Across the kitchen, Khalil goes still. The hand he was using to reach for the coffee pot is suspended in the air, and then, as if the slip hadn’t occurred, his fingers wrap around the handle. Blink, and you’d miss it.

Fortunately, my eyes are wide open.

I don’t set down my fork when I turn in my chair to face him. Instead, I hold it like a weapon. “How did you know my last name?”

A soft curse spills from his lips a moment before he calmly lies. “You told us.”

I so did fucking not . I shake my head as Khalil pours the black liquid into a tin cup. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes. You did. You reminded us who you were like a thousand fucking times.” My lips part to argue when he cuts me off. “Eat, Aurelia.”

Khalil’s tone is cold and stern, but what little appetite I had is ash in the wind, so I push the awful food away and say, “No thanks.”

“Suit yourself, but it’s the last free meal you’re getting from us,” he says calmly.

It hits its mark and pisses me off. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’ve used up a lot of resources and racked up quite a tab while you were getting your beauty sleep, Aurelia. It means that you owe us, and healed or not, we plan to collect.”

Lightning flashes down my spine, settling in my lower belly and heating my pussy at the promise of further degradation. But on its heels, racing down that same channel, is the ire that’s been hanging over our heads like a dark cloud, and I explode. My voice is a sharp, thunderous clap as I yell, “Are you fucking kidding me?” Spitefully, I spit out the food he laid for me like a trap and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “You won’t let me leave, and then you tell me I owe you for staying? Just let me go!”

His jaw tightens at that, and then he snatches up the coffee cup and comes at me. I brace myself for his wrath, his fury, but all he does is grab the back of my chair with one hand. The wood underneath his palm groans as he sets the cup down on the table hard enough to make me jump. “No.”

My mouth falls open, and it draws his attention to my lips.

Khalil stares at them for so long that my heart tries to wring free the forbidden want like a dirty wet rag in my chest.

I lick my lips, and it feels like it’s on purpose. It feels like I’m daring him to kiss me.

Khalil’s pupils dilate, and he leans a little closer.

He’s going to kiss me.

Oh, God. Please don’t kiss me.

I don’t think my tenuous alliance with my own sanity can handle that right now. Khalil kissed me that night in the den, but a part of me craves to know what it will be like when it’s for any other reason than to hurt me. Khalil seems like he’d be in a league of his own.

They all do.

I don’t want him to kiss me.

I don’t want to want it.

My thoughts boil over, and I make a sound that seems to snap him out of it. He shoves away from me with a similar sound of disgust, though his voice is rougher, and I feel it vibrate all the way down to my…

No.

This is bad.

It’s wrong .

Wanting to kiss him feels like a worse violation than Khalil forcing me to.

“If you’re finished, let’s go,” he orders sharply.

“Where?” I haven’t quite caught my breath from the kiss that didn’t happen, so I’m panting and holding my chest.

Instead of answering, he gives me a look. I roll my eyes as I stand to follow him like his eager new puppy that he’s house training.

What’s sad is that I’m not that far off the mark.

Khalil leads me into the kitchen to one of the furnaces they have all around the house. The flat top tells me this one doubles as a stove, and suddenly, it feels as if I’ve been transported to the nineteenth century. I stare blankly as he points out the small woodpile of logs, twigs, bark, and sticks in a basket next to it. He then goes through the motions of showing me how to light the fire and feed it.

He does a much better job at it than Tyler, who remembered very little from his Boy Scout days.

Either Khalil doesn’t notice I’ve tuned him out or doesn’t care as he leads me to the pantry next. It’s mostly dry foods and nonperishables like beans, nuts, and grains.

Not a bag of chips in sight.

Khalil wasn’t lying when he said they stored enough food for the winter. Spring is only weeks away, and yet it looks like they have enough to survive two winters hunkered down. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t panicking at the thought of being stuck up here that long. Hadn’t they said the winter season lasts longer up here? I was sure they’d have to go into town sooner or later, but it was clear I was wro—

“Aurelia!”

“Aah!” I startle when Khalil barks my name, and I realize I was rooted to the spot while he had already moved on. His ungodly gorgeous face is twisted with irritation on the other side of the island as he waits for me to join him. “Sorry. Gosh. Next time, try whistling or patting your leg,” I suggest as I walk over to stand at his side like a good little pet.

Khalil doesn’t even try to deny that it’s exactly what I am.