Page 45 of The King (Masterpiece Duet 1)
He tosses me into the pit. My knees make a loud crack with the fall. I know there’s pain, but it doesn’t register. Not with anticipation clawing at my throat, knowing what will come next. The pool may be empty, but there’s something a little damp down here. A little slippery. I stagger, trying to stand, struggling to find that sliver of hope that says I’ll make it out alive.
“Don’t worry,” he says, soft enough I almost don’t hear. “This will help you, too.”
In the corner the thick roots of a tree have broken through the tile in the far end, leaving a wide chasm. That split narrows to a thick crack near the bottom. A little more and water wouldn’t hold.
The monster above me turns a knob.
A steel pipe juts out of the wall. It pours water into the pool, leaving a small puddle at my feet. My heart beats a slow rhythm, like it can’t believe this. Like it knows better than to panic.
Like this can’t possibly be real.
When I was little I fought the current. I kicked and paddled, struggling to get to the surface. Now I stand very still as the water rises to my ankles, knowing it won’t possibly help.
There aren’t sharp rocks at the bottom. Only a dark vegetation grown over tile.
Water rises, dark in the ancient Recreation Room, almost as black as the bottom. The mermaid tank was beautiful, mostly because the water was clear. And I knew the river was different because it was dark. Like this.
And then Jonathan Scott reaches for a lever. There’s something metal and thin leaning against the wall above me. My mind can’t process what it is. My mind doesn’t want to process what it is, even as he lowers the grate over the top of the pool.
Some dark part of me recognizes it as some primitive safety device.
That dark part of me laughs.
The water level will rise. The grate will keep me under water. “Please no,” I whisper, unable to stop myself. There’s no way it will work, no way I can stop myself from trying.
He looks almost sad. “Don’t panic. You’ll only lose your head.”
My nails press so hard into my palms they draw blood. There will be crescent shaped wounds in my hands, but I won’t be alive to see them. “Don’t do this to me,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’ll do anything. Anything.”
“You’ll do everything, lovely peach.”
What does he want from me? What does he want from Damon? The water tickles my knees, weirdly harmless as it rises. Deadly once it’s done. “I’ll make the money back. Work in the clubs. For sex. Anything. Don’t do this to me. Please.”
“Do you know, when I first got here, they still did lobotomies. How barbaric is that?”
“This is barbaric,” I scream at him. “Let me out. Oh my God, let me out of here.”
Lobotomies. Is that what happened to him? Is that why he’s insane?
He smiles a little, like he can read my thoughts. “They did many cruel things, but not this. This was beautiful. I fought it at first. That’s the weakness inside us. It’s a gift to make you stronger.”
This is how Damon learned to hold his breath so long. This is what he ran away from. This very pool with its green tile and black water. And this is why I deserve what’s happening. Because I sent him here. He came back to this for me.
Chapter Eighteen
“Trigonometry,” says a voice in the darkness.
For one bittersweet moment I flash into the past, a little girl lost, afraid and alone. With only a wild boy to save me. He had seemed like not enough at first. And then he’d been all I wanted.
I sit up in bed, my gaze finding a silhouette in the corner.
There’s no wild boy left in him. Even in shadow he’s made of long planes and crisp corners. He reclines in a chair, his long leg kicked out, one hand dangling down holding a glass. His other hand holds a book open, a stark sliver of light across the white page.
You came back, I want to shout.
Except that might make him leave. Maybe he actually is still wild underneath all that expensive linen and wool. I have to tread carefully so I don’t spook him.
And so that I don’t make him pounce.
“That’s what you were doing at six years old. I guess it’s no surprise you’re doing—” He pauses, glancing back at the hard cover. “Financial Engineering. What the fuck is that?”
“I thought you were in business with Gabriel,” I say, surprised my voice is so even.
To find him in my room like this is a dream. I’m not sure whether it’s a good dream or a bad one, but I never expected it to happen. Not once. Definitely not twice in my life.
