“Did you remember something from last night?”
Alexia shook her head, searching for the right words.
No, I just hallucinated Chloe’s death.
Aloud, she said, “No, I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around something.”
Leo lifted his chin, inching closer to her. His face brought the smell of vanilla, and subconsciously Alexia leaned closer to it.
“I gather you’re not her biggest fan, but I need to know more about Chloe.”
At the mention of her name, Leo drew back an infinitesimal amount. His lips thinned with the forming of a scowl, and a hardness fell over his eyes that permeated his accented voice when he spoke.
“What do you want to know?”
She kept her face set. “Everything.”
There was debate in Leo’s expression as he fell into contemplative silence. Alexia knew it was a touchy subject. He had made that clear from the beginning. But this was a matter of life and death. He needed to understand the gravity of the situation.
“Please, it’s important.”
His nostrils flared with a long exhale of surrender, and he eyed her curiously, as if she was trying to get him to admit something she already knew.
Eventually he did, but it was not what Alexia had expected.
“Chloe and I used to date.”
Color left Alexia’s face as the news sank in and images of Leo and Chloe together pillaged her mind.
“Used to date? But she’s with Marque? I thought you were best friends?”
Leo weaved distressed fingers through his golden hair.
“They got together after we broke it off. I wasn’t thrilled about it, but the circumstances were unusual…”
Alexia was only half listening, unable to clear her head from the mental pictures of Chloe and Leo that assaulted it. She gripped the armrest so hard that the tips of her nails bent under the strain. Her voice was the next to crack.
“Why didn’t you mention it before?”
There was a bashful rise to Leo’s shoulders when he shrugged. “I’m not proud of it. To be honest, it’s a period in my life I want to forget. Things…didn’t end well.”
Alexia’s ears pricked. “How so?”
Leo tugged the collar of his shirt, but whether it was from the room’s warmth, or the suffocating conversation, Alexia didn’t know. She narrowed her eyes at him, scrutinizing every shift of his expression, not wanting to miss the smallest detail. She didn’t have to look hard. Leo’s body suddenly went rigid, reminding Alexia of how the hair of a dog would stand on end if threatened.
“I don’t see how this is relevant! I can’t change the past. I have one. You have one. I just want to leave that baggage on the train I got off. I don’t want to bring a single piece of it onto my journey with you.”
There was a mounting pressure in Alexia’s lungs, and only after Leo finished did she remember to breathe. His behavior had caught her off guard. Whatever had happened between him and Chloe had genuinely upset him. Maybe she was being selfish. Maybe it was wrong to ask him to rip open old wounds. But she wasn’t prying out of jealousy. It was for her own safety. Still, she didn’t need to know the explicit details. All she needed to know was…
“Is Chloe dangerous?”
The sentence acted like a magic wand, freezing Leo as still as a clay statue. A heavy silence hung in the air, growing in weight the longer she waited for his reply. His neck twisted, angling toward her with such slowness that the motion was almost imperceptible. Then his eyes bore into her with such intensity that no amount of personal will could release her from his telepathic grasp. All she could do was stare back at him, wait for the promise of words that were tied to his intent gaze.
His voice dropped to an ominous tone.
“Yes…although not in the way you’re asking about. Ever since I’ve known Chloe, I’ve never seen her raise her voice, let alone a fist. But abuse isn’t always physical. Chloe has a way of using her beauty and charm to get inside people’s heads, mess around with their internal wiring. She has mastered the art of manipulation, and that in itself is dangerous. She has the ability to manifest things that aren’t really there. Make people see what she wants them to see. Things that aren’t real, aren’t true. And that can push a vulnerable person over the edge. I’ve seen it happen.”
As Leo spoke, the brightness of his eyes was slowly extinguished. By the time he finished, two empty voids had taken their place, no longer looking at her, but through her. Whatever had happened, had broken him.
Seeing him in that state was too much for Alexia to bear, and knowing she had created it rocked her with crushing guilt. She stood on impulse, needing to be closer than they already were…wanting to comfort him, to ease the pain she’d caused. She lowered herself onto his lap, curling one arm around his neck until her head was nestled on his chest.
“I’m sorry I brought it up.”
His lips pressed against her forehead.
“It’s okay. It’s my burden to bear. I just don’t want you getting close to her. Don’t let her in. Would you promise me that?”
One of his fingers found its way under her chin, lifting it tenderly so he could look her in the eye when she spoke her consent. A sliver of green had returned to his, alongside the twinkle she never wanted to see fade again. The way his eyes fell over her stirred her with desire, but also something more. There was a deeper message in his expression, a promise that he’d keep her safe.
Blood pounded through every inch of her as their lips drew together. His hand pressed her closer to him, and she breathed in the intoxicating aroma of his skin. Her mouth parted, tasting his tongue that coiled around hers. When he stood, he lifted her simultaneously, her arms tight around his shoulders, and legs wrapped around his waist. Then she was falling onto the king-size bed, pulling Leo down on top of her, and everything except his body against hers was forgotten.
CHAPTER 13
The banging on the door infiltrated Alexia’s dream. She was being chased through the dark corridor of the Opéra Magique. Her pursuer wasn’t in sight, but she could sense someone was coming.
She turned a corner and raced up the staircase, hitting the ancient steps two at a time. It wasn’t fast enough. The person was closing in on her, footsteps growing louder behind. At the top of the landing she darted through the double doors to the ballroom, praying that they would close quickly, quietly.
Thin cracks of moonlight crept through the windows, illuminating the banquet tables. No tablecloths covered their legs, which were high enough to see right under—no place to hide. As her eyes adjusted, she detected a handle protruding from the back wall. A door. She raced to it, legs afire, and pried it wide. It was a closet. Disappointment hit her instantly, alongside the prickling feeling that something was off, that the door was meant to lead somewhere else. The closet wasn’t wide or deep, roughly the size of an upright coffin. She shuddered at the thought, but she had no other option. Squeezing in beside the resident mop and bucket, Alexia pulled the door shut behind her. It closed without a sound, however there was nothing she could do about her breath. Panic came and went from her lungs in uncontrolled wheezes. She slapped her palm over her mouth, forcing the air through her nose, eyes watering from fright. The silence was unbearable, but she prayed for it to continue. Its cessation meant something far worse…
She never heard the footsteps or noticed the shadow that broke the moonlight under the doorsill. The deafening banging on the closest door came all of a sudden, so loud and unexpected that Alexia screamed herself hoarse.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Her body convulsed in terror.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Blackness swept over everything as her mind shut down in paralysis.
“I’m breaking down this door!”
Confusion wove between the cracks of her terror. The voice was familiar.
“Alexia!”
Someone different spoke her name. Closer. Male. Alexia’s eyes jolted open
, pulling herself from her nightmare.
Leo was shaking her gently, however he wasn’t the one assaulting her ears. Deborah’s voice was shrill on the other side of the door, filling the silence between every bang of her fist. Her hands came down with enough force to break the door down.
“If you don’t let me in this second, I’m calling security!”
Shit.
There wasn’t anything to grab except the bedsheet. Alexia hooked it under her arms as she raced to the door.
The second it swung wide, she screamed. Mid-knock, Deborah’s arm sliced into the room, her fist coming directly at Alexia’s face. Alexia dodged in the nick of time as Deborah stumbled, thrown off balance. She caught herself on the doorframe, but her head still plunged through the gap in a tangle of bobbing curls. When she lifted her chin, her eyes were crazed with emotion.
“Are you okay!?”
Nervous laughter bubbled up Alexia’s throat. “Yeah. I’m sorry…I fell asleep.”
Deborah’s concern gave way to relief, but it was short-lived before her rage broke through.
“You fell asleep?! We’ve been worried sick about you, I almost destroyed private property! I heard you screaming! Wait—” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you being held at gunpoint? Are you being forced to say this?”
Before waiting for a response Deborah kicked the door in.
Alexia gasped, jumping back in reflex. The bedsheet fell to her feet.
Deborah didn’t give her a second look as she barged into the room, hunting for an intruder. She spotted Leo, propped up against the bed’s headrest, hands folded casually in his lap like he was waiting to be served a midnight snack. A bemused smile played across his lips. He didn’t appear in the slightest way embarrassed. Alexia wished she shared the sentiment as she scrambled to retrieve the fallen bedsheet from the floor.
“Oh,” Deborah said, realizing her mistake. “At least now I know what all the screaming was about.”
Leo’s grin grew wider when she winked.
“Well, I see you’re in safe hands tonight,” she continued, shuffling back to the door. “If, uh, you need anything…just say the word.”
She slipped out the door in the complete opposite way to which she entered it—without a sound. Alexia remained where she was, speechless before Leo broke the awkwardness with a chuckle.
“I take it you had plans with the girls tonight?”
Yeah, I was supposed to stay with them because they’re afraid your psycho ex-girlfriend was going to break into my room and slaughter me with a butcher knife.
Alexia rubbed her temple hard as she returned to bed. “It’s complicated.”
She sat on the edge of the mattress, feeling further away from Leo than ever. He must have sensed her despondency, because he didn’t try to force her out of silence. After a while, in a way that made it seem he was thinking out loud, he changed the subject.
“What were you dreaming about?”
Alexia’s mouth opened, ready to respond, but her voice faltered, suddenly as dry as her memory.
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
It was the truth. She couldn’t recall the details, but the ominous feeling it had infected her with lingered.
Leo shifted, leaning forward until his sturdy hand found her back.
“You have a big day tomorrow. Why don’t you try to get some rest? I’ll stay up as long as I can and wake you up if you have any more nightmares.”
She was reluctant to return to the disturbing projections of her subconscious, but Leo was right. She needed to rest. And knowing he would be there, right beside her through the night, eased her mind. She crawled into the crevice of his arm, her cheek on his chest. Under the hypnotic sway of its rise and fall, she was soon lulled into a sleep more peaceful than the last.
* * *
Alexia awoke in the same position, as if an invisible glue had bonded her to Leo throughout the night. Tilting her head gently, she looked up at him. His eyes were closed, fluttering softly as he dreamed. She took a moment to drink him in, appreciating every curve of his face in the soft, morning light. Every time she saw him he grew more attractive, not from a change in his physical appearance, but from the changing lens through which she saw him. Her perspective of him evolved the more time she spent with him, the more her feelings developed.
Alexia remained there as long as she could, not wanting time to move forward, to face the waking nightmare of the Opéra Magique, to face Chloe Monet. But it was inevitable. The clock ticked on, unaware of the mounting torment it spread through every fiber of her being. The hour of their last rehearsal neared, and with a heavy heart, Alexia dragged herself from the bed to get ready.
Leo was dressed by the time she got out of the shower. His locks were tousled, and he had a sleepy fog in his eyes that made Alexia want to curl up in bed with him all day.
“Sleep okay?” he asked.
“Like a log. I actually don’t remember the last time I slept so well. Maybe I should have you stay over more often.”
His eyes creased in his sultry grin. “I’d be okay with that.”
When Leo swung his legs over the side of the bed, Alexia lifted a finger with the speed of someone drawing a sword.
“No, you stay right there. I have three minutes left to get ready, and I can’t have you taking up all of them.”
His toes wriggled in contemplation before reaching a decision to respect her wish. With a sigh, he plopped back against the headrest. She could feel the weight of his eyes on her though, travelling up and down her body as if he were undressing her with his mind.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?” he asked innocently.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Maybe you should stop being so beautiful so I could take my eyes off you.”
Alexia turned to hide her grin.
Where did this guy come from? Oh yeah, France. Clearly, I’ve been living in the wrong country my whole life.
A knock at the door broke through her thoughts.
Alexia grunted.
“I swear, I can’t get five minutes of peac—”
Leo rose in a flash, marching to the entrance like he was expecting a visitor. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee was tantalizing when he opened the door to an attendant pushing in a breakfast trolley.
Alexia’s mouth fell ajar.
“You didn’t.”
Leo shrugged as he thanked the attendant and passed him a tip.
“Stop it,” he said to her as the door closed.
“Stop what?”
“Stop looking at me like that.”
Her scoff was lost in the clattering of dishes as Leo lifted a silver lid to reveal a medley of pastries. The smell of buttery goodness swirled through the room, but did nothing to spawn her appetite. Her stomach was knotted with nerves, knowing that in less than an hour she’d be back in Chloe’s presence. Carrie’s warning resounded through her mind.
Under no circumstance are you to be alone with her.
Alexia forced a bite of croissant down her dry throat as a foreboding feeling spread through her like wildfire. She worried that a confrontation would be unavoidable, that it would eventuate under Chloe’s terms, and that there would be nowhere for her to run or hide.
She pulled her phone from her pocket, its case slipping against her sweaty palm.
It was time.
CHAPTER 14
Paris looked different that morning, suppressed by a blanket of clouds. Robbed of the light required to produce a radiant shine, the city’s gold trim was dulled to a brassy tone. Stone buildings lost their warmth, and the crowds of people rushing to work seemed more strained than ever, the elegance of their stride forgotten in their haste to escape the miserable day.
The first drop of sleet reached Alexia’s cheek as they pulled up outside the opera house. It too had transformed into something vile, but Alexia knew it had nothing to do with the gray backdrop; its malevolence was conjured from withi
n.
“I’ll see you after the show,” Leo said.
He threw her a wink, ignorant to the crippling dread that possessed her. She looked at him with pleading in her eyes.
Don’t go. Please don’t go.
But she couldn’t say the words aloud. She had a job to do. A reputation to uphold. Walking away with Leo risked throwing that all away. She had to perform. She had to face the day. Face the building. Face Chloe.
One step at a time, Alexia climbed the marble staircase to the opera house’s entrance, fighting the instinct to run each time she lifted her leg.
The gargoyles perched above the grand door looked down upon her in an unusual way, as if trying to part their stone lips to deliver words of caution—warn her not to enter.
Her hand was heavy as she reached for the handle, pushing with all her strength to shift the door on its hinge. It surrendered with a creak, and she stepped across the threshold of her nightmare with her heart in her throat.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle.”
Alexia jumped, matching the speed of a coiled spring set free. A high-pitch squeal accompanied the motion.
The receptionist stifled his chuckle when Alexia failed to recover, hands still clutching her chest, face stuck in its twist of terror.
“Desole, Mademoiselle. It is only I, not a ghost.”
Embarrassment ensued when she forced her breathing back to normal.
“You scared me.”
The man’s tone was apologetic. “I can see.”
With nothing more to be said, Alexia continued on her way to the dressing room with a cautious stride.
Dancers crowded the room. Almost every female from the performance had turned up at the same time, and the space was a mélange of bodies shimmying out of heavy winter clothes.
Alexia’s eyes scanned the faces, searching for the one person she hoped not to see. The tightness in her chest dissipated with the realization of Chloe’s absence.
“Hey!”
Kelly waved at her through the side of the vanity mirror where she was fixing her hair. She stopped to drive a bobby pin through a section of uncooperative strands, ensuring their compliance with a violent torrent of hairspray.
Black Frost Winter: The Black Seasons Book Two Page 16
