Page 13 of Bought By the Owner's Son
Did they see me?
I remember the shocked gasp that left my lips at what I witnessed—I can’t help but feel that someone heard me. My heart pounds, and the bitter taste of fear coats my mouth. When I start to slow down, thinking I’ve gone unnoticed, loud, jarring steps reach my ears and my heartbeat spikes.
Oh God! What should I do?
I start running again, faster than ever. It’s dark and I can barely see my feet or the ground in front of me. My lungs are burning, heat searing my chest as my breathing grows heavier. The footsteps grow closer and I glance back to see a huge shadow looming behind me. My heart races, and the burn in my chest heightens until breathing becomes difficult.
“Elena!”
The voice is muffled, intruding on my turbulent mind. But I can’t stop running. There’s an urgency riding in my veins. A need to escape even as my heart threatens to give out.
“Elena!”
Lucian’s deep voice pierces my mind. The subtle panic in his tone pulls me out of the cold grip of my nightmare and I jolt awake in bed, drenched in sweat, chest heaving and heart racing as I take in Lucian’s worried gaze studying my face.
A soft moan leaves my lips, my head banging like a drum. I can see his mouth moving, but I can barely make out the words above the noise in my head. “Uh…?”
“I asked if you’re okay, angel.” His voice is gentle and soothing, like a balm to my burning soul.
I shake my head, instantly regretting the action as the pain only intensifies. “My head…” I moan, pressing my hands against my temples.
His gaze darkens with worry as his eyes search mine. He sweeps my hair back, his hands gliding tenderly down my shoulders. “Let me help you sit up, and then I’ll get you some aspirin.”
He arranges a pillow behind me, slightly elevating my head and shoulders. Then he presses a kiss to my forehead, the action tugging at my heart despite my physical discomfort. The bed moves under his weight as he climbs off, and I close my eyes, listening to the soft pad of his feet as he walks out of the room. There’s something familiar about the nightmare I just had. I can feel it with every fiber of my being.
I have to remember…
I feel like there’s something important connected to this dream. With that thought, I take a deep breath and try to replay the dream in my mind, taking myself back to the scene. Suddenly, it becomes clearer, and the memory slams into me like a freight train. I can’t stop it. I groan aloud, gripping my head. It’s as if someone is repeatedly ramming a sledgehammer into my skull.
I scream in pain, tears streaming down my face at the inflow of memories.
Someone died. Right in front of me.
“Elena!”
At Lucian’s panicked tone, I open my eyes to see him holding a glass of water and a pill bottle. He gently places them on the nearest surface and sits beside me. “What’s wrong, love?” he asks as he wipes my tears.
But I can’t seem to stop the tears, or the memories that are roaring back. “I’m remembering. I remember it all,” I whisper hoarsely, trembling.
Sobs wrack my body as the past envelops me. Lucian gently tugs me into his arms, rubbing my back in a comforting caress. “It’s going to be fine, love. You’re going to be alright. I’m here.”
Memories are overwhelming me, bursting out of me like a dam. My emotions are all over the place, and the scene seems fresh in my mind, like it’s happening before my eyes all over again. It’s terrifying, but Lucian’s steady presence starts to soothe me alongside his firm words. Slowly, my tears subside, save for occasional shiver. I burrow my face into his chest, reveling in his warmth.
“Talk to me, love. What did you see?” he asks.
My arms tighten convulsively around him. “It’s bad, Lucian. It’s really bad,” I whisper.
My voice is muffled by his chest, but I know he heard me from the subtle stiffening of his huge body. “It’s alright. I’m here whenever you’re ready,” he assures me.
He gently disentangles his arms from around me and opens the bottle to shake out two pills. “Here. Have some aspirin for your headache,” he says, transferring the pills and water to my outstretched palms.
I swallow them down along with half the contents of the glass. As soon as Lucian replaces the glass on the bedside table, he retrieves the pillow from behind me and slides smoothly in its place, fitting my back to his front. His movements are gentle and unhurried, taking care not to jostle my aching head. A single arm brackets my upper body and I snuggle deeper against his chest as his chin rests gently on my head.
His other hand intertwines with my right hand on my lap, sending the familiar tingles that I’ve come to associate with Lucian’s touch racing down my spine. We stay silent for a while and I bask in the safety that his presence provides, his steady heartbeat grounding me and rooting me in reality despite the memories threatening to pull me away.
“Well…like I told you,” I begin, “it’s a dream of mine to have a café, and when my mom died, my resolve to make that dream come true became stronger. So, I’ve been working in a local café for more experience and to gather enough money to apply for a loan.”
Lucian’s hand tightens around mine reassuringly, and a small smile graces my lips. “It was during one of my shifts a year ago that this man walked in. He was kind, and had the nicest smile. I was his server, and he tipped me so well, saying I reminded him of his daughter. He became a frequent customer who I would always attend to whenever I was on shift—his name was Warren Flint.”
