Page 43

FORTY-TWO

FREYA

If a day could have more hours, I would do anything to spend them with him. But time moved too fast, and with him, it felt like a speed drive, rushing by before I could hold on to it. I wished, more than anything, that we could stay in our bubble. But everything had limits, and so did we.

The morning had already arrived. I woke up in his arms, his breath soft and steady against me. Outside, the birds had begun their song, their voices blending with the quiet rise and fall of his chest. It was peaceful like he hadn’t truly slept in so long and had finally let himself go.

Carefully, I slipped out of bed and tiptoed downstairs. Reaching the last step, I turned toward the kitchen. As I switched on the kettle, waiting for the water to boil, my gaze wandered to the maple tree outside.

My thoughts were a mess, drifting to my mom, the woman in the asylum.

Should I tell him? Or keep it to myself? God, how I miss Stella, she would have known what to do.

And I missed Blue and Ava, too.

The sudden ring of the phone pulled me from my thoughts. I walked into the living room and picked it up.

“Freya Sinclaire?” a woman’s voice asked.

“This is Detective Frida Dahl,” she continued. “I’ve taken over the investigation into Stella Blackthorn’s case. I was wondering when I could stop by to ask you some questions.”

I froze. I didn’t know they had already started investigating. “Oh, hi,” I said quickly. “I was supposed to go back to the academy tomorrow, so maybe you could come by today?”

“That’s perfect,” she said. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

“Great,” I replied, forcing a smile, even though she couldn’t see it through the phone.

“Thank you. Until then,” she said before hanging up the line.

“Who’s that?”

I gasped in shock. My heart jumped.

Lucius leaned against the wall behind. His eyes moved from my phone to me, curious.

“Detective,” I informed him. “She’s coming in twenty minutes.”

A sly smile spread over his lips as he moved closer. “I wonder what I could do to you within twenty minutes.”

I rolled my eyes. “Make me a coffee?”

He smiled and bridged the space between us. “Yeah, I can make your coffee.” He then leaned over and kissed my forehead and turned towards the kitchen.

I breathed out and put my phone on the living room cabinet. But before I could even turn back, I could hear the car pulling into the yard. Then, a soft set of footsteps, and a knock on the door.

I still had on my large white sweater, my hair loose and untidy. And I could only picture Lucius in the kitchen making coffee, shirtless.

Fuck!

I rushed to the front door, my socks sliding across the hardwood floor. I opened it and found a woman in a beige jacket standing there, her dark hair pulled back neatly in a ponytail.

“Good morning,” she replied. “Frida Dahl. We talked on the phone already.”

“Hi,” I said, stepping over to the side to make way for her to enter.

She glanced around, looking around the hall; the pictures in frames, the roses, thousands of them that were still spread around in vases. But without a word, she moved into the living room. She sat down, crossed her legs, and leaned back into the couch.

“Sit down, please,” she said like she owned the house.

I sat in front of her with my hands together on my lap.

“Let’s start with what you knew of Stella Blackthorn,” she said.

“We were friends,” words just left my lips, “I had met her on the train to Blackthorn Academy. Her sister Ava is my roommate, also my friend.” I cleared my throat.

“Did you know that she was investigating Adeline’s murder?”

“Yes,” I said. “She found out when she was in cyber class.”

She dug through her bag, pulled out a photograph, and placed it on the table between us.

“Do you have any information on a student who disappeared back in 2008?” she asked. “Her name was Gia Blake.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat as I noticed that the woman looked a lot like the one from the mental hospital my mom was in.

I stared at the picture, my face turning pale.

“On the night she went missing, they found a letter mentioning a man with a scorpion tattoo. Do you know anything about it?”

My face grew even paler. I looked at her, shook my head, then tried to compose myself. “I saw her in a picture with Adeline Ravenshaw, but I didn’t know she was missing.”

I lied. I never saw her in a picture.

“Her parents think she escaped Blackthorn because of that man, but we believe there’s more to it. No one has seen her since 2008.”

“Did you check hospitals and other schools?” I asked, blinking at her, still pale.

“We did,” she clicked her tongue, “but there’s no trace of her. Then we noticed a pattern—others went missing in 2009, 2010, and 2011.”

“They all looked—“ she pulled out a picture of Adeline, tapping her finger on her face, “like her.”

“We noticed Stella had dark hair, and was the same build as Adeline,” she continued. “We think it’s all connected.”

I bit my lip nervously, my fingers pressing into fists.

“Where were you on the night Stella Lockwood disappeared, Miss Sinclaire?”

Lucius walked into the room, handing me a cup of coffee and standing beside me. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “She was with me.”

I lifted my head toward him. He had his hoodie on now, no longer shirtless.

“Oh?” The detective looked at me. “Is there something going on between you two?”

Lucius sat down, his expression calm. “I’m a family friend. That’s all.”

“Very well.” The detective gathered the photos Lucius had gazed at, placing them into a yellow file in her purse. She slid a card onto the table. “If you remember anything important, feel free to call.”

“Yes,” I said. “I will.”

She stood, turning toward the door. “Nice to meet you. Lovely roses, by the way.” She smiled.

“I’ll walk you out,” Lucius said, standing and following her.

How well do we know the person we love? How well do I know him?

He returned, walking toward me, his eyes fixed on mine.

He was with me that night. He couldn’t have...

I pushed the thought away as he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His fingers lingered.

“You are so fucking beautiful.”

I smiled.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to mine, his hands sliding under my sweater and pulling it over my head, tossing it to the floor.

I chuckled. “I thought you were just a family friend?”

“Shh,” he hushed me, kissing my neck. “Let me show you what that friend can do.”

He cupped my breasts, tracing his kisses down to my nipples, then gently sucking until I gasped, arching my back as his free hand found its way to my lower back.

He moved me to the sofa, took his hoodie off, and pressed his lips against my neck, nibbling my skin as he pulled my thong from my hips, letting it slide down. He glided his fingers down to my lower lips, tracing a path from my clit to my inner flesh, making me lean back as he held me in his hands. He moved his face to meet mine, locking his eyes with mine as he worked his two fingers inside me, thrusting hard, his palm slapping against my clit with each powerful thrust. I moaned in the space between us, parting my lips, looking at him, watching his smirk as he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

He pulled his fingers from me, taking his jeans off and tossing them to the floor. He sat down on the sofa, just an inch away, and then he turned me around, pulling me onto him.

I got on top of him, backward, my thighs hugging his, my back pressed against his chest. He spread my ass cheeks, gently moving me onto him. His hard cock teased the path from my clit to my inner flesh before he entered me, pushing me down onto him, sliding in inch by inch.

I leaned back, arching as my hips danced on him, thrusting myself onto him, faster, harder. I didn’t know how to stop. He placed one hand on my neck, holding my head locked on his shoulder as he gasped and growled in my ear. His free hand traveled from my breasts down to where my clit was.

He rubbed it, moving left and right, then in slow circles, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I moaned into the air, letting his grip on my throat tighten, cutting my breath, and making me gasp.

My eyes widened, his hand tightening below my jaw, making my lids flutter closed. My hips locked in the air as he thrust inside, still rubbing my clit. My body betrayed me, enjoying this—moaning, shaking.

My hand grabbed his, holding onto it as he whispered in my ear, “You’d let me take everything from you, wouldn’t you?”

I didn’t answer—I couldn’t.

He chuckled, then whispered again, “You like this, don’t you?” he mused, watching me with dark, unreadable eyes. “This moment… where you don’t know if I’ll let go.”

I swallowed hard, catching my breath, and opening my eyes. He pulled my face toward him, brushing his lips over mine. Then, just when I thought he might take more, he released me entirely.

I gasped, hands flying to my throat.

His smirk deepened. “Next time, I won’t stop so soon.”

His hands were both on me now, spreading my lower lips, rubbing my clit as I tightened around him. But then he stopped, pushing me slowly from him. And as he got up, he pushed me down onto the sofa.

I sat there, looking at his satisfied smirk as he spread my legs with his knee. I lifted them onto the sofa, leaning closer to the edge, but he locked his palms on my hips, lifting me before thrusting himself inside me. My back arched, my hips lifted into the air as he drove himself deeper, and my legs barely held at the edge of the sofa, my face buried into the pillows while my hands gripped the fabric.

He moved faster, deeper. I could feel him everywhere, stretching me, consuming me as I tightened around him. My orgasm built, my mouth parting in short gasps, my moans turning into cries as I screamed his name.

“Yes, Little Star, my name will be the only one you scream for the rest of your life,” he murmured, then gasped, his head tilting back, his face in the air as he pulsated inside me, filling me again.

“Oh, God,” I moaned, my body trembling, aftershocks still pulsing inside me even after he pulled out.

My body collapsed on the sofa, my face still buried in the pillows.

He leaned over me, moving the pillows from my face. “Ready for round two?”