Page 11 of Fear Me Not

I could be dead.

The full realization of that fact hits me in the chest. Dead. There would be no coming back from that. No more life ahead of me.

It’s the thought of never seeing Blake or Dov or Levi again that hits me the hardest. Why is it that the people who’ve caused me the most pain are also the ones I’d miss the most?

I feel like I should thank Dov for saving my life, but just like with everything and everyone in this place, my emotions are torn. The man is a murderer. He killed Tobias. If it wasn’t for him, Blake wouldn’t have needed to lie to me. Yet, at the same time, I understand that he thought he was protecting me. That someone could feel so strongly about me, to want to protect, to kill for me, mixes up my feelings about them.

Besides, I know I won’t have the energy to make my way through the hotel to search for Dov, but I won’t need to. I’m confident that, if I’m back in my room, he will come to me.

I wish he’d stayed to find out how I am, but I know he isn’t completely distant. He’ll be watching.

A sob barrels up inside me, but I gulp it back down. I’ll wait until I’m alone to cry. I’d been vulnerable with Blake, and he used it against me. I won’t make the same mistake twice. Still, I can’t help sniffling, and I hide my face against his shoulder.

We reach the curved staircase, and my knees fold. There’s no way I’m making it up the stairs. Blake notices my stumble and sweeps me up in his arms, carrying me, bridal style. I want to tell him to put me down, but what would be the point? It’s not like I have the strength to walk, and he’d ignore me anyway.

He strides up the stairs, as though I’m no weight at all, then down the corridor, past door after identical door, until he reaches my room.

113

I’ve come to think of it as my room, too. It’s not the same as the one I’d grown up in, but it had started to feel like home. The enormity of it all feels overwhelming. I should run, but I have to stay. I want to hate him, but my heart aches with love.

Like I’m a child, Blake carries me inside and places me in the bed then pulls the covers right up over my shoulders.

“How are you feeling? Warm enough?”

I’m conscious that I’m still naked beneath the blankets. I should probably ask for some clothes, but doing so will call attention to my nudity, and I’m too self-conscious to do that. How is it possible for there to have been such a change between us? This man I’ve dropped to my knees for, who had buried his face between my thighs, who had lost himself inside of me is now like a stranger. I have to keep reminding myself what he’s done.

Why is the person who has hurt me the worst also the one who can make everything better again?

“I’m fine,” I murmur, not wanting to look at him. Just seeing his gorgeous face and what seems to be genuine pain in his eyes hurts. “I just need some sleep.”

“I’ll stay,” he says. “I can sit in the corner and make sure you’re all right.”

“I don’t want you here, Blake. I left to try to get away from you. The last thing I want is for you to stay.”

“Please, Aspen⁠—”

“Leave me alone. I need to sleep.”

I close my eyes, though I’m hugely conscious of his dominating presence still hovering over me. I want to burst into tears and reach for him and beg him to hold me and take back everything bad that’s happened between us, but I can’t.

Will he leave?

“I’ll check on you soon,” he says eventually.

There’s a pause, and then I hear the soft snick of the door opening and closing. He’s done what I asked and gone.

I exhale a shaky breath and allow the tears I’ve held back since I regained consciousness to slip down my cheeks. I bury my face into the pillow and cry so hard I forget how to breathe. All the pain of the past few months, of my dad dying, and losing everything, and coming here and being betrayed by these men, and then almost dying floods out of me. I don’t know how I’m ever going to be all right, or how I’m going to cope here with them. Does Blake think we can just put everything behind us and carry on as though he did nothing?

Part of my grief is down to the future I’d allowed myself to dream of. In the short time where everything had been going well—or at least where I’d been under the impression that it had—I’d let myself picture a future where I spent my days wandering the hotel and its grounds, drawing whenever I wanted, and being doted upon by three gorgeous, if slightly intense, men. It seems ridiculous now. Of course, nothing in my life was going to go that well. I’ve been cursed since childhood, and that was never going to change.

I lose track of the hours, slipping in and out of sleep. Outside of my window, the whiteout of snowfall gradually gives way to nighttime.

Blake brings me soup and crusty bread, but my stomach is in knots of misery, and I can’t bring myself to eat. I don’t speak to him when he comes, and instead roll onto my side and remain motionless and silent until he leaves again, despite him enquiring as to how I am. He doesn’t deserve to know, and I don’t owe him anything now. He’s made me a prisoner here. If I’d known the truth, I’d have left before the snow fell.

He touches my shoulder as though trying to reassure himself that I’m still alive, and I flinch away from his touch.

Levi doesn’t come.