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I huddled in the confessional and held out there until it was time to go to the limousine. A spark of hope in me waited for Alex to follow me. But he did not.
CHAPTER 36
Afew days later, I sat pensively in the limousine, looked out the window, and let the landscape pass like fog. Outside, it was raining, and the drops hit the window pane like arrows, then slid down in long streaks. The weather reflected my own state of mind, and once again, I fought back the tears.
The last few nights had been tough. Physically, mentally, and especially emotionally. After our fight, Alex and I still hadn't gotten along. We no longer trained together and even avoided all contact and cooperation. It hurt a lot, and I missed him terribly in the meantime.
What was wrong with me? Why was I suddenly doubting everything that connected us and reflected our love for each other? The worst thing, however, was that at some point, I had to admit that I didn't know whether I still loved him the way a woman should love her fiancé.
Alex was my best friend, and yes, I loved him, but just as I loved Chris, Rick, and Jordy. Like a brother.
This realization had made me create a greater distance to Alex. I no longer trusted myself and my own feelings, but I wanted to hurt him even less. Perhaps these thoughts were justa passing phase triggered by an underlying fear of marriage. A mistake, a confusion on my part, which would be resolved in the next few weeks.
At least, I hoped so because I would never forgive myself for depriving Alex of a love marriage. It didn't matter whether it was me or another woman he would otherwise have to marry unseen and chosen by his parents.
I would be harming myself as well. If I did not marry my best friend, who understood me and loved me, my father would have to choose another husband. In that case, a new cage awaited me. One that would cost me my life. There were only a few men left in the upper class who disapproved of the patriarchal system in which we lived since there were so many advantages for them from the new world order.
Such a man could never accept or even tolerate a woman like me. In his eyes, I would be sullied and rebellious. It would be hell to which I would be sent. A man’s position in this world was secured solely by his gender, which gave him power.
But what made me doubt my love for Alex, which had existed for years? Did it have to do with my dreams about Mr. Baldur? These brought me, in the meantime, almost around the mind.
I allowed myself almost no more sleep. Set the alarm clock to wake me every 30 minutes to avoid the deep sleep phase. So far, I had escaped further encounters with the man with the golden eyes. But now we were on our way to his estate in the Hamptons, where I would meet him in person. In real life. I only hoped he would misbehave, that I would be able to forget him once and for all, that my dream bubble would burst, and that this Tanael I had dreamed of would no longer exist in my imagination.
Tiredly, I looked at my other fellow travelers. Jordy had big circles under his eyes, just like me. Chris had told me he and Rick had joined Jack and the Amazons to explore the docks. My brother was hoping to somehow save Anne that way. Hefelt guilty for not having been able to protect her at the crucial moment.
Rick sat snoring against a window on the other side of the car, and Chris beside him read the Bible. My dad, lost in thought, gazed at the landscape, which was now passing even faster on the highway and was blurry. His face was filled with worry and, at the same time, carried a hardness I had never seen in him before.
Behind the raised window sat Stephan, who drove the limousine, and in the passenger seat sat Aza, who also accompanied us.
When I saw her standing next to our luggage in travel clothes late this afternoon, I had been incredibly relieved and pleased. I liked the maid. She had grown on me, and even if I couldn't confide my secrets to her for her own protection, I knew I could talk to her about anything. Since Charly, she was my first real friend. And then, of course, there were Aspasia, Maggy, and Emma. Although the four represented different worlds, I felt they would get along well.
Aza certainly would help me avoid social obligations this weekend. My firm resolution included only meeting Mr. Baldur upon arrival and the necessary meals. Nothing more. I would call in sick to the reception, as I would for all other occurrences.
By now, the sun had set completely, which was hardly noticeable in the dark rainy weather that had unexpectedly prevailed throughout the afternoon. The drive to the Hamptons took more than two hours, and soon we would reach our destination.
I only briefly closed my eyelids, which settled on my eyes like heavy blankets. The exhaustion was so great that I thought I could fall asleep standing up. I shivered, and so I pulled my coat tighter around me. Maybe I really was getting sick. Then, my excuse would be more believable.
“Myrina,” he breathed softly into my ear. His muscular body pressed against mine, and it responded to his touch with such ferocity that a moan escaped me. I wanted him so badly. Wanted to feel him all over me, on me, inside me. Deep inside me. I wanted him to make good on his promise and take me. Wild, passionate, and uninhibited.
Hot and burning, his tongue drove over my neck. The trail he drew with it tingled throughout my body and made me burn.
Overcome by my lust, I threw my head back, bared my neck, and buried my fingers in his blond hair. A growl was his response and ignited our two fires all the more.
“I want you,” he whispered, his golden gaze settling on me longingly. “Come to me, Haye. Become mine.”
I opened my eyes in horror. My breathing was much too fast, and my pulse was racing. Four pairs of worried eyes stared at me. We were still sitting in the limousine, but it had come to a halt.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You just had a bad dream,” my father talked to me soothingly. “We are with you, and no one will hurt you.”
"What …" I stammered, not initially understanding what he meant. How could he know about my dream with Mr. Baldur, and especially, how did he think he would hurt me? But then I understood what was behind my father's words. He thought that I had dreamed about the encounter with John Adam Nash, the murder of one of the women present, and the kidnapping of Anne. Upon realizing this, I felt ashamed that it was not like that. Even though my mind had seemingly repressed that memory and replaced it with another, I wanted to preserve the memory of the victims.
Still quivering inside, I put on a weak smile.
“It’s all good, Dad. Don’t worry about it. It was just a dream.”
Gently, my father patted my hand, and sadness wove around the brown of his irises. He, too, felt guilty. He had not been able to protect me from such a traumatic experience.
“You are not to blame,” I whispered. The pain in his face contracted, and he swallowed hard once while lowering his gaze.
