by Nora Flite
“That's right,” I whisper, smiling wide. “At the cabin.”
At my home.
DOMINIC IS ON THE PHONE with his parents. I can see him every time he passes by the doorway, pacing the hall. While he does that I sit on my parent's couch, unable to relax. Eventually I get up and begin to wander around. I run my fingers over a bookshelf, then across the wall as I make my way to the first bedroom.
It's my brother's. I see lots of toys and the bed sheets are covered in racecars. He has a small TV and on his desk. There's also an open notebook covered in math problems. Schoolwork? Was Dean allowed to attend school while my sister and I were kept trapped?
It seems impossible. But after some more exploring, I get an uncomfortably ominous impression that Dean didn't realize he was being held here against my family's will.
The thing that kicks me in the gut the hardest, though, is when I realize what's missing from this entire apartment.
I can't find any photos of Kara or me.
My parents had tons of them, my mother loved to snap Polaroid pictures of us. Even if there aren't any new photos, surely they are old ones. I search, growing desperate. I've emptied the drawers, gone back out to the main room and checked the fridge, the bookshelf.
The reality sinks in like an iceberg in my veins.
I've been erased from my brother’s life.
This is why he was allowed to go to school and have a somewhat normal life, while I wasn't. He didn't know about Kara or me, so he wouldn't make some off comment about his sisters being kept captive somewhere. He was only six. He probably didn't know his family wasn't allowed to leave the Complex without an escort.
I sit on his bed and run my fingers over the furry ears of a stuffed dog. I walked back into a life that I don't belong in anymore.
I stand up quickly, leaving the room because I can't handle being in there. I'm about to go back to the couch when I glance at my parents’ bedroom to my right. It's dark in there. After what I just went through in Dean's room, the idea of repeating it is discouraging. But I'm too curious to walk away.
I press the door open and walk inside. There's a large window covered in vertical blinds, the sunlight flickering through the gaps, keeping the room easy to navigate. The bed is made. Everything looks clean and perfect and precise, like the rest of the apartment.
On the nightstand are a novel and a blinking alarm clock. I scoop up the novel and read the title. Dracula? It's heavy in my hand. I pass it back and forth in my palms. Which one of them was reading this in the middle of the night? Did they think about escaping, or was diving into fiction good enough?
I fan the pages and as I do, I see something stuck between them. I open the book wide; there's a square slip of thick paper. My fingers shake as I pick it up, squinting at the photograph.
It's a picture of Kara and me.
We're holding each other, laughing in the sun. I'm probably no older than five in it. Kara is standing over me as I try to knock her down in the grass. It's a moment from the past. The two of us filled with joy, unaware of what's to come in our future.
Gently I close the book, yet I slip the photograph into my back pocket. I'm not a fan of stealing, but this photo belongs more to me than the people who will never return to this apartment.
Walking back into the living room, I sit down just as Dominic walks through the door. “All right,” he says, sticking his phone in his pocket. “It took a little bit of convincing, but my father has said we're free to make the trip to your old home.”
“He was really okay with me and you going so far away?” I ask dubiously.
Dominic looks me in the eye, his tone blunt. “He knows you won't attempt to escape as long as Kara is in their grasp.”
He's right. I could never run away and leave her behind. I still don't know how my father could muster the selfishness to do it. “Do we need to bring anything with us? How long of a drive is it?” It's been years. My memory of the distance is blurred by the helicopter trip. Sometimes I remember it taking only a few minutes, other times, when I think back, it's like I was in the helicopter for days.
“It's possible for us to make it there in one go, but I'm not sure I'm willing to push myself driving eight hours straight. We'll leave now, spend the night in a hotel that's about halfway between.”
I have so many things running around in my head and it's hard to focus on any one of them. I'm nervous, especially considering the idea of sleeping in a hotel with Dominic. I've never done anything like that, and I know that hotel rooms are small and intimate.
I'm also glowing with anticipation because it's really happening.
I'm finally going home.
- Chapter 14 -
Dominic
When we get to the hotel I pull my car up to the curb. The valet comes out, taking my keys and asking if we need any help with our bags. “We're fine,” I say, putting my hand on the small of Laiken's back. Her clothing hides her skin from me, but I imagine it nonetheless.
We approach the reception desk, the woman there with her ruler-straight blonde hair flashing me a smile. My nod is curt. “I need a room for the night.”
She glances at Laiken curiously. “One bed or two?”
“One,” I answer immediately. I slap a thick black card onto the counter.
“Very good, sir,” she says, taking the card and running it through the computer. “If you need anything else just call down and let us know.”
I lead the way to one of the many elevators in the lobby. Laiken stiffens beside me, her tiny intake of air like a gong in my ears. I'm hyper aware of her discomfort. When we step through the metal doors, I slide my hand around hers. “We could take the stairs if you want,” I murmur.
“No, I'm fine. I can handle this.”
She says that, but her knees start shaking. I consider how the lights in the elevator turn her skin golden. The walls are reflective with mirrors and I can see us repeated multiple times from every angle. The doors start to slide shut; as they do, I grip her shoulders, pushing her into the corner of the elevator.
“What?” she blurts out.
My mouth taps her forehead; she tastes like minty soap and rainwater. I move lower, kissing her passionately, my tongue darting around hers, our lips warm and firm. My thumbs find the grooves behind her jaw and link together, cradling her neck like she's a sip of water I discovered in the desert.
Laiken returns my kiss so wonderfully that I feel like I'm levitating. I pull away far too soon, my nose rubbing hers, my lips curling in a subtle smile. “We're here,” I say.
Confusion colors her glowing eyes. She looks past me to see that the elevator doors have opened again. I kissed her all the way through our ride. I'd hoped it would keep her from getting uncomfortable in the elevator like she had back at the Complex.
Wrapping her fingers in mine, she pulls us from the elevator. “Which room is ours?”
Delighted by her rejuvenated energy, I point. Laiken yanks us towards the door in the hall with a thirty-two above it. I slide out the key card, but before I can open it, she tangles her fingers in my hair and kisses me wildly.
Her affection, her insistent need, is giving me life. I fumble with the card, tapping it five times before finally hitting the metal plate to make the door beep and unlock.
Shoving her inside, I slam the door behind us, ripping my coat off as I go. She's just as fast, unzipping her jacket down to her knees and letting it puddle on the floor. My beard scrapes her cheek as I tie our mouths together with a kiss harder than every other one.
Throwing her on the bed, I growl in the back of my throat. “Can't wait to get me alone, hmm?” I ask.
She stares up at me with her cheeks pink as newly blooming roses. “It's your reward for showing me how much you care about me.”
I falter, my hands pressing on the bed by her knees. “Haven't I already shown you that?”
“Yes,” she admits, her smile tugging higher. “But each time feels as good as the first all over again.”
I make a guttural sound. There's nothing like the experience of standing over her as she lies on the bed with her arms stretched onto the pillows, her long hair spilling in a haphazard S shape. She's wearing a pair of gray jeans and a white sweater woven from thick yarn.
I've seen her in glamorous dresses, in tight yoga pants, and naked under a rainstorm. But this - this comfortable way she lounges - somehow, it turns me on more than anything.
Reaching down I unhook my belt, thrilling at how her attention fixates there. “You like watching me, don't you?” I ask.
She nods slowly. “Obviously. Do you not realize how handsome you are? You're like no one I've ever seen before, Dominic.”
I'm flattered, but there's something beneath the surface of her compliment that bothers me. How many people has she actually seen, really? It's easy to forget in the middle of this normal hotel that Laiken's life has been anything but. She's lived on my estate for six years. She told me when we were kids that she hadn't seen any teenagers like me. If I asked her to, I bet she could describe the face of every single person she's ever met.
So does it really matter if she thinks I'm handsome?
Who does she have to compare me to?
“What's wrong?” she asks, sitting up on her elbows. “You just got a very weird look on your face.”
I loathe the concern staining her pretty features. I'm not used to it. Besides, it's my job to be worried about her, not the other way around. Ripping my pants down my thighs, I enjoy the way her eyes widen.
My cock is pressing against the front of my boxers, tenting them immensely. I step out of my pants and my shoes, spreading my feet, gripping my hard-on in my fist through the dark fabric of my underwear. She swallows; I watch how the dip in her throat flutters. I want to kiss that spot. “Now you,” I say.
She gets the hint and lays flat on the bed, snapping open the button on her jeans, the zipper cutting its way down. Laiken hurries to shimmy out of the pants, kicking off her shoes as she goes. Everything falls off to the floor in a tumble. Her sweater floats around her flat stomach, her panties matching the red color of the room's carpet. They sit low on her hips, outlining her puffy pussy lips.
Visually I can tell that she's excited. I can smell it in the air now, too. It makes my hair stand on end, my tongue buzzing to life. There's more to this woman than the way she curls my toes, or how hard she gets my dick, but I can't lie: I love both of those things.
She allows me to engage in a way that's so all-encompassing that I can forget the problems that haunt me. Climbing onto the bed, I push her sweater up her body, exposing her breasts where they're packed into her ivory colored bra. Shoving my nose into her cleavage, I inhale, kissing the soft skin and listening to her moan.
Her nails bury in my hair, taking hold. My beard scrapes over her sensitive skin. All my little movements coax more whimpers from her lips. When I reach to unhook her bra, I realize the clasp is in the front. “Did you wear this so that it would be easy for me to take off?” I ask, my heart thumping faster.
She looks away from me, processing the question. “Maybe.”
I chuckle warmly and unsnap her bra. It falls away, no longer hiding her pointy nipples. Nuzzling her left breast I give it a quick kiss. She inhales sharply. My cock flexes in my underwear and I grind it against her thigh. The pressure leaves me swimming in arousal.
She grabs my hands, forcing them to her breasts. I take the hint, squeezing harder, manipulating her firm nipples with gentle pinches. Laiken pants like an animal, shifting under me, trying to drive her hips against mine.
“You're so demanding,” I tease. Tracing my hand down her stomach, I grip her panties, moving them aside. She tenses under me and gasps loudly. “You always get so wet for me.” I slide my fingers over her crease until they're soaked. Nudging them inside of her pussy, I make sure not to give her too much. I want her aching for me, all of me.
Pulling away, I enjoy the look of panic in her eyes. “I'm not going anywhere,” I say. Reaching down to where pants are crumpled on the floor, I pull out a condom from my pocket. Again, I see her fascination when I adjust my cock. “You like seeing me touch myself, don't you?”
Her whole face turns red. “Yes,” she admits, giving me a pensive nod.
I hook my boxers with my thumbs and guide them over my massive erection. She doesn't tear her eyes away as she sits up on the bed. The sight of her makes me harden even more. Groaning throatily, I squeeze the base of my shaft, sliding my fingers slowly upwards. Under her hungry gaze, I begin to jerk myself off in lazy strokes.
My fist comes up, bumping the underside of my cock-head. The tip glistens with a single drop of pre-come. I use my thumb to swirl the sticky liquid over my tip until it glistens. Stroking more desperately, I notice how she's panting. I'm drawing in huge breaths too, a streak of sweat escaping down my forehead from my exertion. I'm going wild but I don't want to come yet.
She’s entranced watching me play with myself. To my amazement, Laiken reaches down between her thighs, tracing near her panties. “Do it,” I demand in a low voice. “Touch yourself, I want to watch you, too.”
She bites her lip and starts to rub herself in front of me, spreading her thighs, giving me a good angle. I can hear how wet she is. With two fingertips, she makes fast circles over her clitoris. It doesn't take her long to start breathing heavily, her body turning pink, and her nipples standing in the air her. I jerk myself off with helpless abandon. I'm so fucking close but I don't want to come like this. I want to come inside of her.
Ripping the condom wrapper, I glide it over my length, dulling some of the sensation. It allows me to pump my shaft a little more freely without pushing myself over the edge.
“Dominic,” she moans. I'm obsessed with her saying my name. “I'm going to . . . I'm, ah . . .” Throwing back her head, sending her hair flipping like a waterfall of coffee, she shakes on the bed. Falling backwards onto the blankets, her knees push together while her muscles squeeze as she loses control from her orgasm.
I can't take it anymore.
Dropping down on the bed, I rip her panties to the side and shove my entire length inside of her in one go. Laiken squeals in pure erotic delight. I shiver at the sensation of her hot inner walls milking me. “You're so damn perfect,” I manage to say, fucking her with such hard thrusts the bed slams against the wall. I wonder if the other people in the hotel can hear us. I hope they do. I want everyone to know what I'm doing to this woman.
Her arms wrap around me, and somehow, she finds enough strength to meet my strokes with her own. “You're perfect, too,” she whispers. “Ah, you're . . . Dominic, I . . .” She almost says something. I catch the nervousness in her eyes before she closes them, hiding away her thoughts.
What the hell was that? I wonder.
What was she so close to saying to me? I want to know, and at the same time, I'm terrified to learn. We've come so far, but there are still so many things unsaid between us.
Some things I know I can't ever say.
Her legs circle my middle, her heels digging into my muscular ass, and I stop thinking. All I can feel is her heat, all I can see are stars as I tumble over the edge and finally reach climax. I groan into the pillow beside her creamy cheek, shaking as I fill the condom near bursting with my seed. She clenches around me as my orgasm sends her into a new one. Her nails scrape up my skin, but the pain is nothing to me.
I kiss her throat right on the shallow spot where I wanted to earlier. Next I kiss her chin, her lips, and I stay there, wrapping my tongue around hers, loving the way her moans feel as they vibrate against my teeth.
Lying there, I shift our bodies until we're lying side by side. I stay inside of her warmth, my shaft semi-hard, because it never wants to rest around her. Wordlessly I explore her soft shoulder from behind. Eventually I start to play with her hair, working the braid out loop by loop.
I think about the day so long ago when I heard her shouting in her room, and I came in and intervened
so that the maids would leave her be. I didn't know how important her hair was to her. I just didn't like hearing her so terrified.
It reminded me too much of the times I'd screamed the same way.
I never want to hear Laiken makes such sounds again. I'm filled with a frantic need to protect her. I want to stay by her side. I want to prevent all the devils in this world from putting their hands on her. No one will ever hurt her, never again. Because I . . . I . . .
And then I nearly say something - three little words that can never be taken back.
“Dominic?” she whispers against my chest. “What is it?”
I realize my hands have tightened in her hair. Carefully I loosen them, forcing myself to take methodical breaths.
For a second, I allowed myself to forget that I'm one of those same devils I want to protect her from. Kara's words return to me: “Murderer, murderer, murderer!” Then new ones that ring just as true and just as cruel: “The kindest thing you can do is remove her from your heart.”
Running my fingers through her silky hair, I kiss the nape of Laiken's neck. “It's nothing.” It can only ever be nothing.
- Chapter 15 -
Laiken
For six years, I dreamed of this day.
In my head it didn't happen like this. I pictured being swept into my parents' arms as they alternated between crying, and comforting me for being so strong. Kara would be here, so would Dean, and it would be the start of our happy ending.
I get none of that. Instead I'm walking over the same ground where I grew up - with Dominic, of all people. But I don't care. I'm too lit up from the inside of my heart to care about the reason I'm here.
Just that I am here.
I'm home.
The cabin is coated in layers of leaves. Moss has grown over some of the posts that are buried in the earth. Several old bird nests cluster under the roof's overhang. The longer I stare, the more evidence of age I see. No one has been here to take care of this place.
