it takes. But I’m positive that it’s spiralling out of control. If I force him into treatment, I will only aggravate his state. But if I cannot ensure his safety, we will be easy prey to The Pit’s assassins and the ones who betrayed our family.” He pauses, voice deepening. “That’s where you come in. I know Aaron enough and I have never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. You’re special to him. If anyone can convince him, then it’s probably you.”
My breath catches in my chest. The butterflies in my stomach erupt with a giant flip.
No.
Tristan is using me. He would tell me everything I needed to hear to get what he wants. I’m not falling for his manipulations.
“He won’t listen to me,” I say matter-of-factly. Tristan’s crazy if he thinks Aaron listens to anyone but his own head.
“Try.” Tristan smiles. “I will give you back your freedom in return. You’re innocent, you don’t deserve to be here.”
If I try then it’s not for freedom. It’s for Aaron.
. . . . .
I lie facing Aaron. The steady rise and fall of his chest transfixes me. This man is tragedy incarnate. Would he have become a killer if he wasn’t trained to be an assassin?
My palm reaches out to caress his stubbed cheek. Heat instantly seeps through my skin.
Why am I feeling this bad for him? I’m suffering from that Stockholm syndrome thing, aren’t I?
“I’m sorry for trying to kill you,” he whispers, his eyes closed. When he flutters them open, they’re an odd mixture of softness and harshness. Stormy black wells. “That wasn’t me... or at least not the version I want to be.”
An arrow strikes me in the chest, but instead of pain, joy spreads into my limbs. I murmur, “It’s okay.”
“It is not okay.” His thumb caresses my lips. Jolts of electricity travel throughout my body, sucking me into a hole of forbidden need. “You’re fucking me up, Mae, and it is not okay. It is dangerous.”
I stare into the once-bottomless eyes. They consider me with warmth so intense I wish to drown in them. “I’ll accept it.”
Aaron gathers me close, keeping a little distance between me and his bandaged chest. He inhales the top of my head before planting a soft kiss on my forehead. My body melts in his arms. I want to remain here forever.
Oh God. What is this feeling spreading inside me? Infecting every cell?
No. This can’t be.
The realisation of my feelings shatters me into a million pieces. Ones I don’t know if I’ll be able to pick them up again.
I’ve fallen in love with my captor. A serial killer. A psychopath.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Aaron
I lift my hand up. Only a tiny ache. Good. I slowly twist my torso. Rippling pain stabs my chest. I cough, and my chest reverberates in continuous spasms. I lean back, allowing my body to fall on the bed, panting with effort.
It’s been almost two weeks already. Screw this nonsense. I should’ve at least been able to walk for a few minutes without panting like a bloody dog in heat. Or was I that weak? I did neglect workouts.
The door clicks open, Mae pushes a wheeled tray of food inside. All frustrations evaporate at her radiating smile.
She hasn’t left my side ever since I came back. I can’t understand why, but I’m glad that her presence shoves Tristan and Dylan off my back. Even if it’s only for now. Tristan won’t let this pass unnoticed. I’ll think of a method to escape the asylum later. For now, Mae and the citrus that invades the room are all I need.
What does Mae smell like, anyway? Aside from her perfume’s odour, I still can’t pinpoint her exact scent. She’s not entirely Uncle Alexander’s Autumn. Or perhaps she’s Autumn and something more.
Mae places the tray of food between us, then sits on the chair opposite the bed.
As soon as we start eating, Mae’s kitten mouth takes over. She always talks about soup and nonsensical things when we eat together.
“It’s common etiquette to keep silent during meals,” I say when she keeps asking me to speak.
“Thank God I’m not some snob.” She cuts her steak, her eyes fixating me. “Actually, I still can’t understand how you’re genetically able to keep silent for such a long time.” Then she goes