Jeffrey. I don’t think I can handle this alone.
I step out in the corridor. My feet are bare.
And freeze when I see the destruction.
The beautiful paintings – made by Ethan – hanging on the walls of the corridor have almost all been ripped or slashed one way or another. By some sort of sharp instrument.
The horror rises with the bubbles in my throat.
My instinct tells me to flee this house. Lothar is not fully sane. What sort of rational entity would do this, unless he really hated the person who did those paintings? Lothar is dangerous. Yes, he’s the most incredible fuck of my life, but he’s also dangerous. He might decide to come back for me with that sharp instrument, whatever it is.
I run down the stairs, almost tripping in the dim light of the sole wall lamp mounted upon the landing. Should I go find Jeffrey? I daren’t call for him, just in case I alert Lothar. Jeffrey obviously knows about Ethan’s condition, or else they wouldn’t be talking about triggers and such.
The front door is wide open. Outside, silvery raindrops form an almost continuous sheet. Why is it so damned rainy here?
I’m drawn to the doorway despite myself.
Get Jeffrey first.
I shrug off my common sense and venture barefoot to the door – out into the rain. The drops immediately pelt me. Somewhere up in the sky, a jagged lightning bolts streaks across the ominous clouds, followed by a peal of thunder.
What am I doing?
I don’t quite know, except that I am reminded of the other night – the night of my accident. My hair is immediately plastered upon my head and my nightgown soaked through. The temperature has dipped a good ten degrees. I shiver. What am I doing here? I should be going back to the house, to get Jeffrey and warmer clothes.
And then I see him. He’s a blur in the rainy cascade, but he’s standing there in the middle of the driveway. His back is to me and his shoulders are slumped. A long, shiny piece of metal that has fallen to the ground catches the next lightning flash.
I recognize the sword from the study.
I blink the rainwater away from my eyes. Blood is running with rivulets of water down his right arm, and I’m frightened for him all over again. What has he done to himself?
He turns, and I glimpse his face – all distraught and in agony.
I hold myself back, not sure how this is going to play out. I should have gotten Jeffrey. Anytime now, Lothar can pick the sword up and decide to come after me.
He says in a voice full of pain, “Virginia?”
I bunch my fists, not daring to trust the fates.
“Ethan?” I say hopefully.
He looks down at his bleeding arm, aghast.
“It happened again, didn’t it?” he says.
I can only pad towards him. The ground is hard and wet against the soles of my feet. He holds out his arms to me helplessly and I can only go to him. Something in my chest twists with painful precision as we close in onto each other. I grip his waist tightly as he clings onto me, his naked body wet and his skin cold.
We stand there, hugging each other for a long while. My mind is churning with the present, the indeterminate future and the fact that I am irrevocably involved against my better professional and emotional judgment.
“What are we going to do now?” Ethan murmurs against my wet hair.
I can only answer, To hell if I know.
But whatever it is, I decide that I’m going to stay to help him find his way out.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright 2013 by Aphrodite Hunt
Cover art by Aphrodite Hunt
EROTICA and EROTIC ROMANCES BY APHRODITE HUNT
Please check at the back of the book for synopses
The ‘Eight Tasks for the Blushing Virgin’ series
Deflowered
Debauched
Deceived
Desired
The ‘Romanced by the Damaged Millionaire’ series
Damaged