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I made my way out of my room, and down a few hallways, my gaze sweeping across my surroundings, with only the pitter patter of rain outside keeping me company. The entrance to the kitchen was on my left, and I decided I needed a hot cup of coffee first to fully wake up.
It was only as I fiddled with the coffee maker that a thumping sound came from somewhere in the house. I paused, my ears perking.
The sound came again and again, leading me right to the steps down into the basement.
Unease curled in my gut as I reached for the door-handle and pushed down. “Alistair?”
No response, but the earlier thumping sound came again and it was definitely from down in the basement.
Yellow light spilled down the wooden steps, fading into the murky darkness, and I floated the idea of just ignoring the noise. Except what if he was down there injured, or worse yet, what if the crazy Queen had broken into the mansion and was going to come up and get me?
Shivers raced up my spine, and I glanced over my shoulder, suddenly hating the silence in the rest of the manor.
Thump.
I flinched.
“Alistair. Is that you?” I swallowed hard and decided I would check or I would worry until I knew what was going on.
Slow steps had me descending, the steps groaning under my weight. One would assume if anyone was down here, they’d hear my approach, which was exactly my intention.
Light spilled through the darkness as I reached the bottom of the steps, and I glanced around. There were boxes and shelves all over the room, but my attention was drawn to the thumping sound on my left where the basement extended deeper.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I stepped softly, my insides trembling. Just as I stepped past several boxes stacked on top of one another, I saw him.
But…
Alistair had his back to me, gripping a baseball bat, wearing what looked like a black raincoat. He was swinging the bat wildly, slamming it into someone who was tied by their arms to the ceiling.
I gasped, a scream pressing on the back of my throat. It was only then that I saw black garbage bags around the room like he was planning to divide the victim into bits before disposing of the poor guy.
I could barely breathe by this point, and yet I couldn’t get my feet to unstick from the concrete floor. The man swinging from the chains had his head flopped forward, chin tucked into his chest, and I doubted he was still conscious. He bled profusely, the bucket beneath him splashing with fresh blood drops.
I heaved on an empty stomach, gagging at the sight, at the stench that reached me–blood and death.
I blinked, scared out of my mind. It was only when Alistair set a hand to his ear and adjusted the ear piece did I realize he was listening to music or something. That was why he hadn’t heard me approaching. It was my saving grace, and I retreated quickly, dashing upstairs…barely able to breath. Shutting the door as quietly as possible, I turned and ran, tears in my eyes.
Pausing outside the front yard, I wiped at my face, pacing, unsure I hadn’t imagined what I’d just seen. Should I run? Where would I even go? There was nothing around the mansion, just open land and forests. The front yard was perfectly manicured with shrubs and roses.
Who had that man been down there? And why was Alistair hurting him?
The soft rain fell on me, and I tilted my head, letting it kiss my face. I closed my eyes, scared, confused…my whole body wracked with frustration that I still couldn’t remember anything.
Please, make the visions stop, let me remember my past, and for heaven’s sake, was what I just saw real? Is my fated mate a serial killer, or have I completely lost my mind?
“Little moon, what are you doing out here in the rain?” His voice danced in the air, and I jumped, my eyes flipping open.
I clenched my hands into tight balls, digging my fingernails into the fleshy part of my palms to try to wake myself up, to not freak out in front of him.
“I-I…” I licked my lips. “Just needed some fresh air."
He closed the distance between us in three quick steps, and I lowered my gaze, unable to stop myself from scanning his clothes and shoes for any blood spots. He was clean, as were his neck and face.
My heart sped, savage breaths stealing my ability to act normal and not panicked.
“What’s wrong? You look scared? Talk to me.” He reached over, stroking the side of my face, and I cringed, and pulled away. I knew I shouldn’t have, but my skin was crawling from what I’d seen. I was already struggling enough with not feeling attraction for my fated mate. That certainly hadn’t helped.
Something was terribly wrong.
