I land on the bed clumsily and instinctively start scrambling back. Becker slowly turns, and his face tells me everything I need to know. I’m not imagining this. ‘No.’ I shake my head, like I can shake myself away from here.
‘Eleanor, listen to me.’
‘No.’ My back hits the headboard. ‘No.’ If I shout it loud enough for long enough, I might snap out of my nightmare. This has to be a nightmare.
‘It’s not what you think.’ Becker approaches warily, his hands held up in a sign of surrender. ‘Please, just listen to me.’ His chest is heaving. The laboured breaths that I thought were a result of anger are actually a result of exertion. He’s been running. Running from his secret underground garage after racing across town in one of his many cars. To try and beat me. To try and pretend he was here the whole time.
My body fuses to the wood behind me, my feet pushing into the mattress, like if I put enough effort into it, the wall behind me might swallow me up and take me away from this bad dream. ‘Was it you?’ I choke the question out and hold my breath, stupidly hoping for a miracle. I don’t know why I’m asking. I’ve seen the scratches on his back, the scratches I put there, and I’m analysing his persona, his reaction to my clarity. He looks traumatised. Totally broken.
Guilty.
He stops at the foot of the bed. His bare chest is quivering, and his hands drop to his sides. What I’m looking at right now is true surrender. ‘It was me,’ he murmurs, keeping his eyes on my shaking form. ‘You said you were meeting Lucy at the pub. You weren’t supposed to be there.’
Air leaves my lungs on a desolate cry, and I’m off the bed like a rocket, grabbing my bag and flying through the door. I needed him to admit it, to say it out loud, and now I need to escape. My poor heart struggles under my shock, and my legs lose all feeling as they pelt down the stairs.
‘Eleanor.’ The slap of bare feet on the stone echoes around me, banging in my head, making me dizzy and freaked. ‘For fuck’s sake. Eleanor.’
My shoulder crashes with the wall on the corner of the stairs, the force sending me hurtling into the wall at the bottom. My palms slap the plaster, but the sting burning my skin as a result doesn’t even touch the agony of my breaking heart. I’m off down the corridor, mad and deranged, my mind being flooded with too much to unravel.
I see my mobile lying on the floor and collect it as I pass, reaching the Grand Hall door. I fumble to swipe my card and open it, then I run like my life depends on it to the courtyard. I could navigate the dark alleyway with my eyes closed now, but I home in on the switch at the entrance and give myself the benefit of light, hoping it will get me out of here faster.
He’s coming. I can hear his feet pounding on the concrete behind me, but he won’t stop me this time. I swipe my card and stumble on to the main street, relieved when I land on the busy pavement. No one takes any notice of me; they just dodge my body as I spin on the spot, trying to gather my bearings. It’s dark, it’s cold, and I have no idea where to run.
‘Eleanor!’ Becker’s roar echoes loudly, spilling from the entrance of the alleyway.
I turn around and come face to face with him as he skids to a stop. His expression is tight, his bare chest pulsing. ‘Eleanor.’ He reaches for my arm, but I dodge him and move away.
‘Why were you there?’
He closes his eyes, his cheeks hollow from his gritted teeth.
‘Tell me why,’ I scream.
‘Fuck!’ He swings around and throws his fist into the wall, roaring his way through the pain he spikes. I jump, startled by his fury.
He shakes his hand as he comes close, taking one small, cautious step at a time until he’s breathing down on me. His closeness, it doesn’t have the usual effect. I’m not breathing heavily with lust or desire or need for this man. Now my deep breathing is fuelled solely by fear. I’m frightened of him. ‘You bastard.’ My voice quivers with emotion, and my arm flies forward, my palm landing a brutal slap to his face. His head snaps to the side, his jaw tensing. ‘Stay away from me.’
‘Trust me, Eleanor. Please, you need to trust me.’
‘You attacked me,’ I scream, backing away.
‘I didn’t fucking attack you,’ he bellows back, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me into the wall. The impact shocks me still. ‘I was restraining you.’ He looks panicked. ‘Please, for fuck’s sake, please, just trust me.’
‘That’s just it, Becker. I did. I did fucking trust you. And you destroyed it.’ I barely get the words out through the ache crippling me. ‘Don’t try to find me.’ I use all my force to shove him away and sprint across the road, being stupidly reckless, not checking for traffic. I make it to the other side, ignoring the loud screeching of annoyed car horns.
‘Eleanor!’ Becker shouts repeatedly, desperately.
I swing around and see him on the other side of the road, bare-chested, his eyes frantically trying to keep me in view while he dives between cars, smacking bonnets and yelling for people to stop. But his shouts fade to nothing when a bus comes between us and I disappear down a side street. I don’t know where I’m going. Have no idea what to do.
My new start, my new life free from grief, guilt, pain and betrayal has been stolen.
Becker Hunt stole my heart.
Ripped it from my chest.
How is it possible that my heaven has transformed into the worst kind of hell?
Betrayal.
How could my spirit be unearthed and then lost again?
Stolen.
His angel eyes have danger looming behind their beauty.
Grief.
My saint really is a sinner.
I will never get over this.
Agony.
But Eleanor and Becker’s story isn’t over yet . . . Continue the passion and drama in Jodi Ellen Malpas’s sizzling sequel, Wicked Truths