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It took him a good long moment to understand what I was trying to say. Without eyes, there just…isn’t. It’s like trying to see out of the back of your head, or your elbow, or your knee. The world still exists there, but it’s not like closing your eyes.
The noise he made when it clicked was one I had screamed into my pillow over and over.
But I’m not sore about it tonight. No, I’m just annoyed because things are changing.
Alice’s presence is throwing everything off, and it has me curled up in my window seat with a book of Diogenes’ arguments open on my lap. The book itself isn’t that old—translated into German in the 1870s—but the weight of it is comforting. I run my fingers over the embossed cover, over the letters I’ve memorized, as I think about how different everything already is.
And I don’t mean the way it was before Kane or before the gunshot that nearly killed me, but the way that life changed when Kane turned his focus on Alice. Or no, that’s not quite right. He turned his focus on Alice to try and find the best way to use her against her father, and that wasn’t new.
It’s the way she captivates him. It’s the way she captivates all of us. I’ve never known love the way most people do, and I’ve never known affection outside of Kane, Ari, and James. I’ve never bothered to define my sexuality with labels because it doesn’t matter to me.
My entire world is these three men and this home where I’m unable to leave.
But Alice has made me want things I have never bothered to consider.
When James had her spread over her duvet, his tongue thrusting inside of her, I swore I could almost taste it. When he sank his fingers into her heat and made her fall apart on his hand, I swore I could feel it on my own.
And I wanted.
And I hated it.
Letting my head thunk back against the wall, I touch the glass with my fingertips and feel the coolness against my heated skin. Winter’s leaving slowly, and it feels like we’ve been forever under the icy grip of the long season. After all, for me, there’s no escaping this place when I grow tired of it.
There are the grounds, and these walls, and the cameras that connect me to the world outside—but only the parts of it that Kane allows.
His love will always be suffocating, and I wonder if I’ll ever find the courage to just let myself die.
Lost in thought, I don’t hear the sound of someone coming in until the door shuts with a small click. My spine straightens, and I reach for the knife I keep under the cushion. The quiet tiptoe sounds of the intruder tell me they don’t want to be found out, which means it can only be one person.
Her.
The pretty little captive who has finally cracked and come snooping.
For a moment, I wonder if she’s turned on the light, but if she had, she would have seen me. It’s likely there’s no moon out, which means if she’s not making her way around by feel, she’s using a flashlight.
Unfortunately for her, my training is solid, so I slip from the bench and sink further into the room. I feel the handle of my knife pressed firmly against my sweaty palm, and I turn my head to follow her. She’s at the wall shelves now, and I can hear a faint dragging noise as she touches my books.
It’s difficult not to laugh because most of them are in braille. I think she realizes this after a second because I hear a quiet, disappointed huff as she moves on.
When she gets close to my private collection, I move. I know the room by heart—every table, every chair, every rug. I can slip through it almost effortlessly, and I make no sound as I follow the echo of her breath and the soft tapping of her bare feet.
I must be inches away, and she has no idea I’m here.
I will make her regret breaking my one single rule in this home.
“Looking for something?”
She lets out half a shout before my arm is around her, the knife pressed to her throat. She sucks in a breath before I can tell her not to make a noise, and she goes quiet.
“No one will care if you scream,” I tell her, and I let the blade sink in almost enough to nick her, but not quite. “Now, tell me what the fuck you’re doing in here.”
“I,” she says, then stops and sighs, sagging in my arms. I do my best not to think about how warm she is or how soft. She’s just so…different to any of my lovers, and I’m not sure how to process it. Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t touched another human that didn’t live in this house for far too many years.
My hands begin to shake. “I want an answer, Alice.”
“You know who I am?” she says, and then to my surprise, she laughs. “Sorry, fuck. Of course you know who I am. You’re Phoenix, right?”
She’s trying to disarm me, and I won’t let it work. Growling, I sink the knife in enough that she hisses, and I’m pretty sure I’ve drawn at least a little blood. “You were warned not to come in here.”
