Page 35 of The King (Masterpiece Duet 1)
The pain medicine backfires, because I can’t wake up. Not even when I want to.
In the darkness of my nightmares Damon can’t reach me. I’m deep underneath the water, where it’s only black. And on the surface, a thick layer of ice. I don’t know if he could have made me like kissing, if I would have ever liked sex, but there’s only fear now.
Only a cold certainty that whatever comes next will hurt.
Only the strange dread that I’ll like it that way.
* * *
The next morning I wake up encased in ice, the events of last night frozen away. And I’m sure I can stay this way, as long as I don’t talk or move or think. I stare up at the blank ceiling, carefully not imagining about Damon sleeping in this same place night after night.
Avery is the young woman’s name. She stays by my side the whole night, only leaving briefly to confer with the doctor and someone who brings clothes for us both.
She dresses me in a loose tank top and yoga pants.
On an intellectual level I know the clothes are comfortable. They feel like velvet against my skin. Apparently rich people even have different workout clothes.
But on a physical level I don’t feel anything. Not pain.
Definitely not hunger, especially once I see the table heavy with food.
Damon sits with another man at the table, speaking in low tones. Both of them stand when we come into the room. It’s an old world courtesy, but one lacking any warmth. Damon’s eyes are as cold as I’ve ever seen them. And they don’t linger long on me.
Avery leads me to one of the empty chairs before taking one opposite me.
I stare at the teacup in front of me, only distantly curious. It may as well be a flying saucer. Something to be poked and prodded. Examined. Nothing that could provide comfort.
The whole world seems foreign now.
“Did you find anything?” the other man says. I remember Avery talking to him. Gabriel.
There could be a thousand meanings, but I know which one it is. The same way I could count cards and calculate statistics—without really wanting to. Did he find anything in that abandoned mental hospital?
“Nothing useful,” Damon answers, his voice low and flat.
Gabriel presses forward. “You know him best. What’s his next move?”
“He thinks he’s teaching me a lesson. What does any teacher do?”
Reinforce the lesson. Give homework. My mind flashes to Damon in the old trailer, holding that damned book of trigonometry. My stomach turns over, threatening to spill over the nice shiny china.
“Does that mean Avery is safe?”
A cold smile crosses Damon’s handsome face. “The opposite.”
Gabriel makes a low growling sound. “Then we can’t wait.”
“No,” Damon says agreeably.
The men will go looking for Jonathan Scott. Will they find him? That seems doubtful. This is an elaborate game. I haven’t seen enough of the cards to count them. And I’m only a chip in the pile, moved around on the velvet without a thought.
“So I’ll bring Avery back,” the other man says.
Damon nods. “We can meet this afternoon.”
Avery seems to perk up. “Can you maybe talk to me instead of about me?”
“I’ll bring you back to my house,” Gabriel says to her, his expression a strange mix of possession and deference. “And then meet with Damon this afternoon.”
“What about Penny?”
Everyone in the room looks at me, the heat from the gazes searing. Look away, look away.
“What about her?” Gabriel finally asks.
“Who will take care of her?” Avery demands.
Damon doesn’t move a muscle but I feel his fury as if it flickers, his own flame. “I’ll find someone,” he says, nothing in his voice giving away his anger.
“I’ll stay with her,” Avery says, though I can hear the uncertainty in her voice.
“Absolutely not,” Gabriel says. “My house is the safest place for you, especially when both Damon and I aren’t there. The security team is already installed there.”
“Then she can come with me.” Avery kicks me softly under the table. She wants me to say that I agree with her, but I don’t really. I like Avery, but she’s probably safer without me. “If it’s safer there, then she’ll be safer, too.”
The force of Damon’s discontent takes the air from the room. In the tense silence I imagine a million things he could say. I’ll take care of you, Penny. The fantasy gets stronger.
“Take her,” he says, his voice cold as he stands and tosses down his napkin.
Then he leaves the room, as if he decided on his dinner order instead of my fate.
Avery struggles to meet my eyes, but I can’t deal with that. Can’t deal with the empathy I would find. Can’t deal with the questions she would ask.
“What happened to her?” she asks Gabriel instead, a sweet relief. Someone else to answer her questions. Someone else to field the useless empathy.
