Page 24 of Twins for the Enemy

Even if this event planner gets a text back from Neal, hopefully, it will sound like somebody texting the wrong number. Hopefully, Neal isn’t so high that he loses all common sense.

I set the phone back on the table, placing it like it was angled before. I used to do the same thing when using or taking things my father might disapprove of, which was nearly everything. I learned to be a shadow, and that lesson might keep me alive.

I hustle back to my prison, which is now missing its door. Kieran may be a tyrant and a psychopath, but he does keep his word.

I slip into the attached bathroom, locking the door behind me. Every time I step in here, it feels like I’ve stepped into a Regency-era bathroom with its marble floor, porcelain tub, chandelier, massive mirror with ornate framing, and freshly cut bouquets displayed around the room. Even the ceiling is carved with intricate designs that remind me of ceilings in cathedrals.

The most modern part about it is that the floor is heated, which I take advantage of as I sit down against the door.

I close my eyes, trying to plot my next steps. I need to let my spineless side take over. I need to be a wallflower that lets Kieran think he’s in control.

And if something happens to me, Neal will know what happened. He won’t think I abandoned him.

Did Kieran kill Robert Young?

I try to imagine Kieran with his hands around my throat, taking my life, but it only reminds me of the night we were together. There were moments when I was well aware of his strength, and I knew it took restraint for him to not use me like a doll, but he used that strength to be gentle with me. It was about domination, but not control. Every time I try to picture him killing me, I can feel him inside me, with his hands trailing down from my throat to my breasts, my waist, and my ass. My breath shortens, but not from fear.

Still, I heard the malice in his voice when he said Robert Young was dead. And I also didn’t think those hands would be keeping me captive here. I didn’t think he’d lock me in a room or deprive me of my privacy.

I fooled myself into thinking I knew a man I slept with once. It must be true what they say about women losing their virginity. We lose our minds. It makes us develop emotions and attachments that should never be brought to the light, because if we look too closely at them, we’ll see they started decaying as soon as they were felt.

But I’m like that with all men in my life. Every time I try to push myself in a new direction, the compass leads me back north.

It just turns out that north is the direction to Hell.

I bundle the blankets tighter around me. I thought freezing-my-ass-off was a phrase people used to exaggerate, but I’m starting to think it may be possible. Or, at the very least, my toes may snap off like icicles on a roof.

A thermostat is near the door, but I’ve touched all the buttons without the temperature going up. Knowing how bad my luck is, I likely plunged the room to sub-zero temperatures.

I should’ve left it alone.

I should’ve left a lot of things alone.

The door being taken off probably doesn’t help my situation. This mansion is so large that I can’t imagine how long it would take to heat up a single room, much less most of the structure.

I need to find more blankets.

I swing the sheets off, the cold air nipping at me.

It’s nearly 2 a.m., so I move down the hallway quietly. I’d rather he stay fast asleep than find me, the weakling that can’t deal with the cold. From what I’ve seen, it’s completely possible that he’s a reptile, basking during the day and going into stasis at night.

I peek inside a bedroom. I tiptoe in, finding a dresser. I open the drawers. They’re all empty. A chest sits under the window. It’s also empty.

In another room, I find a closet. Nothing inside it.

My family wasn’t poor. We were upper-middle class, which only made it easier for my father’s violence to be hidden by new school clothes and distract people with how grateful Neal and I should be. Still, having all these empty rooms seems absurdly excessive, and I can’t imagine a less deserving person owning it.

I continue my search with no success. I’m going to end up needing to use the towels from the bathroom and layer them over me. But if he finds me like that, I’ll never live it down. I’ll be the woman who was too dumb to figure out the thermostat or find another blanket.

Near the end of the hallway, a bright light shines out of one of the rooms.

He works during the day. What would he be doing up this late?

Vampirism. The only possible answer.

I sneak closer, peering inside.

It’s unmistakably Kieran, though his back is turned toward me as he scales a rock climbing wall. The grips on the wall rise all the way up to the ceiling, which seems much higher here than in the other rooms.

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