Lake

He’d been gone for three days.

The night after he’d given me his watch, he’d made me come until I was exhausted and then told me he had to leave again.

I’d tried not to read anything into him telling me, or the long, lingering look he’d given me before he left. I just reminded myself that he would be back, that him coming back was all that mattered.

In the meantime, I had fallen into a routine.

I spent my mornings lounging in the large bed, reading selections from the surprisingly well-stocked library. My afternoons passed in the kitchen, experimenting with things I’d always wanted to try to cook but had never had the opportunity to. My evenings were spent picking another book.

And my nights pretending I wasn’t missing him.

The nights were the hardest of all.

It wasn’t lost on me that I was treating this like a long-delayed weekend getaway, a lazy vacation escape to rest and recharge from my hectic life.

During the day, I could pretend it was somewhat normal.

Nights were an entirely different story.

At night, there was nothing to busy myself with, no distraction, and no way to pretend that I didn’t want him with me.

No way to pretend that how much I wanted him with me, the fact that I felt anything for him beyond contempt, wasn’t completely fucked up.

Yet here I was.

Circumstances were what they were, but the truth was something I couldn’t change.

Maybe Vlad had warped me so much that this was what I thought was normal.

Maybe I had been this warped well before Vlad.

I didn’t know, and didn’t know if I had the fortitude to figure out why.

Didn’t even know if the why mattered.

The reality was my life had been completely uprooted, and I had no control over what happened to me next.

I hadn’t had control for years, had fought against that lack of control in the small ways that I could.

It terrified me that with him, I found that I didn’t care.

“What’s for dinner?”

I froze, startled, but then went back to the task at hand, not even stopping to acknowledge Gaspar.

My heart pounded a little bit harder, something I told myself was because of the momentary fright.

“Chicken and dumplings. I made the biscuits from scratch,” I said brightly, probably too brightly.

I slipped the heavy pan in the oven, set the timer, and then, with nothing left to do, I turned to face Gaspar.

“Yum,” he said. “I’m sure it’s going to be as delicious as everything else.”

“I hope so,” I said with enthusiasm I didn’t quite feel.

Maybe it was the circumstances of our first meeting, but I always felt uneasy around Gaspar.

He still reminded me of the world’s most menacing technical support guy, but I did my best to ignore that.

It wasn’t like I had another choice.

He was here because Aras had told him to be.

I might not like it, but that wasn’t my call to make. So I did what I always did and made the best of it.

“Did you enjoy the eggplant parm?” I asked.

I had made it the day before and, as was the habit I was developing, left it for Gaspar and Roman, which I had finally learned was Muscle’s name, and whoever else might have been here.

Something else that was bizarre, the fact that I still had no idea where I was or who else was here with me.

Something else I had no power to change, so something else I would ignore.

“It was fantastic. My mom wasn’t the domestic type, but if she had been, I imagine that’s what her eggplant parm would have tasted like,” Gaspar said.

“Thank you,” I responded, smiling brightly, so brightly that my face muscles strained.

I went quiet then, the urge to get out of the kitchen so strong that I couldn’t do anything but respond to it. “I’ll be in the library,” I said, sidestepping toward the door.

“No. Wait here. Keep me company while those dumplings are cooking,” Gaspar said.

“Uh…” I swallowed, frantically tried to think of an excuse but couldn’t. “Okay.”

I stopped where I was, standing awkwardly between the large island and the stove, but I didn’t care about that, and certainly didn’t make a move to get closer to Gaspar.

But I didn’t have to.

He took it upon himself to walk closer, standing between me and the door.

Warning bells were going off in my head, more like full-blown sirens, and I struggled to think of what to do.

“You seem to be settling in,” he said.

“Seems so,” I responded, not knowing what else to say, more concerned about finding a way out of this room than thinking of something to say.

“It must be a surprise,” he said, his expression a slight smile.

“What’s that?” I asked, looking in Gaspar’s direction but not meeting his eyes.

“You wake up three-quarters naked on a freezing concrete floor. A little while later, you’re making biscuits. That’s quite the journey,” Gaspar said.

“I guess so,” I said.

Those sirens were bullhorns at this point, so I plastered on my biggest smile. “If you’ll excuse me…”

“Where are you off to?” Gaspar asked, stepping even closer.

“I just need a minute,” I said, smiling again.

“Me too,” Gaspar said, returning my smile, but his bigger, menacing.

He lunged at me, and I sidestepped him, flailing out with my arm.

The heel of my hand caught his jaw, and I heard his teeth clang together.

I saw the anger that illuminated his expression, but that was soon replaced with a smile.

“I like a fighter,” he said.

He hadn’t found one in me.

I had sized him up that first day, had again every other day that I’d seen him, and my conclusions then and now were the same.

I was strong, and I was desperate, but those two things wouldn’t help me against someone like Gaspar.

I knew he had to be very good at what he did, or Aras wouldn’t keep him around. Add to that the fact that he was clearly crazy as fuck, and I didn’t have a shot.

My only option was to run, so that was the one I took.

Gaspar lunged at me again, but this time he missed, and I made a beeline for the door.

I convinced myself in a split second that I needed to get back to the bedroom, could barricade myself there for however long it took Aras to come back.

And hope that Aras coming back would be a good thing.

I got one foot out of the kitchen, but was yanked back hard, Gaspar’s fingers around my biceps in a tight, punishing grip.

The pain was sharp, but I didn’t pause, and instead twisted away from it, still intent on getting to the bedroom.

“Keep it up, sweetheart. I want to work for it,” he said.

“You will,” I spat.

It probably wasn’t the wisest idea to taunt him, but the words came out before I could think to suppress them.

And besides, nothing I said or didn’t say would change anything here.

I twisted away from Gaspar, moved a few inches closer to the outside, and was again pulled back.

His fingers dug into my arm, and my skin gave, his nails pressing deep.

He pulled again, the force sending me to the ground.

He held one of my arms, but I reached for the doorjamb with the other, held it tight while I kicked him.

“Bet you don’t make the boss work this hard. But I’m up for the challenge,” Gaspar taunted.

I kicked out, felt a moment’s pride when my foot made contact with his face.

Was rewarded with Gaspar tightening his grip, his fingers pressing even more deeply into my flesh.

“You know that makes me hard, right?” he said. “Keep it up.”

I intended to.

I kicked at him again, managed to wrestle my arm away.

Gaspar lunged, covering my legs and torso with his body.

I held the doorjamb with both hands now, trying to buck Gaspar off my back, my stomach churning, sickened at the feel of his erection pressing into my body.

I didn’t know how much longer I could keep this up, but I would go as long as I could, fight to the last breath.

I squeezed the doorjamb tighter, then pulled myself toward it, my shoulders and biceps straining from my weight and Gaspar’s.

But I moved an inch, then moved an inch more, not managing to buck Gaspar off, but not allowing him to get any farther either.

I kept pulling, kept twisting, my eyes narrowed into slits so tight I could barely see out of them.

But I didn’t need to see. I just needed to get to that door, get through that door, down the hall, and I would be away from this.

I focused on that, kept twisting and pulling, and then pulled so hard that I slammed my chin into the door.

Suddenly, Gaspar’s weight was off me, and with that realization I turned, looked back.

Gaspar was panting, up on all fours, his face red and splotchy.

But he’d forgotten all about me.

His eyes were centered on the doorway, and I followed the path of his gaze to where it was centered.

Landed directly on Aras.