Page 36 of Little Blue

Winter and flame and spiced berries and sin wrap around me in the moments before my body feels weightless. Lucy meows, and I hear the pitter patter of little paws on a wood floor as my body rocks, floating through air against something warm.

Sleep tugs me down even as I moan, restless.

The weightlessness fades away, and something softer and more pleasant cocoons me in warmth. Lucy’s purr rumbles close. I can’t stop myself as I snuggle into the scent of winter and flame. I feel safe, here. Safer than I’ve felt in so long, I can’t remember.

It makes me want to cry, but I blabber something incoherent to my own ears. Words dripped in dreams to mask a harsh reality.

Something warm and soft touches my forehead, then my temple.

Heaviness pulls my body into the softness beneath it as weight settles into my consciousness. The thing that made me safe is pulling away, fading fast.

And I fall into a fitful distortion of reality and nightmare as my mind slips entirely into sleep once again.

I wake with an alarmed jolt, crying out as the ghost of my nightmare fades into the reality of the yawning darkness that surrounds me. Only, I’m not where I fell asleep.

Now, I’m alone in Ilya’s bed. Lucy is still curled up beside me, his curved spine tucked close to my side, his purr quiet in sleep. In my chest, my heart is racing as fast as my mind.

How did I get here?

I’m certain I fell asleep on the couch in the adjoining room—but now—now I’m in the monster’s bed.

I recall dreaming of feeling safe. Of inhaling the taste of winter and flame, berries and sin. Of him.

I remember feeling safe.

Had he come to me? Had he moved me to his bed and tucked me in?

He'd been so angry with me when he left me in his room, locking the door behind him. Had he truly returned only to carry me gently to his bed so I might sleep better? Had he covered me with blankets and…

A sleep distorted memory assaults the strings of my heart as it flashes in my mind. Warm lips on my forehead. A kiss whispering across my tear-sticky temple.

Had the monster who stole me kissed me so tenderly?

The thought slices clean through one of the strings holding my heart in place.

My puppet heart is in perilous danger if the monster who took me from my life cuts through any more of the strings that fasten it in place inside my chest.

Because I’m not confident, when the last string is cut, the monster will bother to catch the tender, bruised, cracked heart, to cradle it gently in his cruel claws.

A shiver dances down my spine, calling goosebumps to the surface of my flesh. Just the thought that I could feel something, anything for this man is—deplorable.

I need to escape.

Lucy protests as I throw back the covers, but I’m already swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I don’t know how long I’ve slept, but considering there’s no light peering around the sides of the curtains, it’s been a while.

In the closet, I find not a single one of my ratty sweaters that I love to lounge in so much. I heave a weary sigh as I mumble aloud, “Apparently my sweaters weren’t good enough to kidnap. Jerk.”

With an eyeroll, I turn to his side of the closet. My eyes travel over the expanse of suit pants, jackets, and dress shirts. Finally, they land on what looks to be workout and lounge wear. There’s not a lot of it, but I do find a few sweaters hanging close to the back of the closet. All of them are my least favorite color to wear. Black.

I’m so terribly pale that black makes me look ghostly unwell. I can get away with navy blue, but black is pushing the bounds of my beauty.

With nothing else to ward off the chill, I pull one from the hanger and yank it over my head. I’d kill right about now for a hair tie, but it appears those didn’t make the kidnap list, either.

I’m really going to have to talk to him about this. If he was going to steal me from my life, the least he could do is make sure I have the things I need. Big monster jerk!

I glance at myself in the mirror and cringe. I’m a sight. Puffy, tear swollen eyes and pale flesh peeking out from a massive sweater that hangs nearly to my knees. Honestly, this just lends credence to how large the brute is. Even the cuffs of the sweater dangle well beyond my hands, making me not only look like a child playing dress-up in daddy’s clothes—but it makes me feel like one, too.

Again, I roll my eyes. Then, like the child I feel like, I stomp my foot. I’m just happy there’s no one around to see it.

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