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“What the fuck?” I pant, spinning helplessly in a circle. There's no sign of the cloaked figure, and no open doors they may have slipped through. It's like they've vanished into thin air.
I lean against the wall, trying to catch my breath and make sense of what the hell just happened. The house around me hasfallen back into eerie silence, no hints reaching my ears of where the figure may have run off to.
Am I losing my damn mind?
I glance around again. Well, one thing's for certain–I have no idea where the hell I am now.
I spin around, trying to get my bearings, but every hallway looks the same in the encroaching darkness. Panic surges up in my chest, threatening to choke me in its iron grip.
“Okay, okay, Shiloh,think,” I mutter to myself. “Just...retrace your steps and you’ll find your way back.”
Easier said than done. I start turning corners at random, hoping to find something familiar to tell me I’m heading the right way. With each dead end, my nerves ratchet up another notch. The manor suddenly feels impossibly huge, a black hole designed to swallow me completely. I'm half-convinced I'll be wandering these halls for eternity when a faint glimmer of recognition sparks in my brain.
I swear I’ve seen that hideous portrait before!
I stare at the painting of some obese, old Fairchild patriarch, his beady eyes seeming to glower right back at me. Yes, I definitely passed this on my way up. Which means...
Relief floods through me as I spot the top of the grand staircase around the next bend. I practically fly down the steps, taking them two at a time in my eagerness to return to familiar territory. In my haste, I slip on the edge of a step near the bottom. I stumble, arms pinwheeling as I frantically fight to regain my balance.
Just as I'm bracing for my second nasty tumble of the evening, I collide with something solid. Strong hands immediately wrap around my biceps, steadying me before I eat shit.
“Whoa there, where's the fire?”
I look up, startled to find myself face-to-face with a bemused-looking Dom. His brow furrows as he takes in my rumpled appearance.
“Shy? What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost.”
For maybe half a second, I consider telling him everything. The noises, the chase, the cloaked figure that seemed to vanish into thin air. But even as the words form on my tongue, a creeping doubt has me pressing my lips together. How crazy would I sound, rambling about spooky banging and some phantom intruder? The last thing I need is for Dom to think I'm having a mental breakdown.
He'd no doubt take credit for it.
I force out a laugh that sounds a little hollow even to my own ears. “Oh, nothing,nothing. I, uh... I thought I saw a bat fly upstairs. Freaked myself out among all the creepy ass portraits. No biggie.”
Dom doesn't look entirely convinced. “If you say so.” He pauses, giving me a smirk. “Shall we get this decorating over and done with before we have to spend the whole night here?”
“Yeah, let’s.” I plaster on what I hope is a winning smile, and he seems content to drop the subject, taking my hand and leading me back towards the ballroom.
I'm surprised to find my racing heart beginning to slow, my frayed nerves settling as if they’re being stroked into submission one by one. Even more surprising is the realization it'sDom'spresence that’s soothing me. The warm grip of his hand wrapped around mine.
It's such a casual gesture, but it leaves me reeling.When did Dominic Blackwood become a source of comfort rather than rampant anxiety?
Memories of our antagonistic past bubble to the surface of my mind unbidden. The cruel pranks, the scathing remarks,years of animosity and then nothingness stretching between us like a chasm.
And then since he’s been back in town…the bickering morphing into actual conversations, the hostile stares melting into heated glances. Oh, and I sure as hell don’t know what to make of the downright animalistic sex.
Who is this new Dom? And who the fuck amI?None of it makes any sense. Maybe Iamlosing my mind.
And yet, here in this moment, I feel like I could face a hundred phantoms and be confident that the brooding man beside me would have my back.
20
DOMINIC
My gripon the steering wheel is relaxed as I navigate the streets of Avalon, my mind drifting to last night at the manor. I reminisce about how Shiloh's shoulders gradually relaxed as the evening wore on, her laughter becoming less guarded the longer we spent hanging ridiculous bundles of dried herbs and fake cobwebs.
A smirk tugs at my lips as I consider how much faster she recovered from her shame spiral compared to the first time I sank my cock into her. I can feel her coming round to the idea that we’re not about to be institutionalized for daring to touch each other. Patience is a virtue, after all.
Granted, I was itching to touch her after half a week of no contact, eager to taste her lips again. But I’m giving her space. I did nothing other than hold her hand.Once. She has to see that whatever is growing between us doesn’t disappear whenever we keep our clothes on.
