Playing Dead: Book One of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 12

I sat in the middle of the impossibly large bed, my knees pulled up to my chest and arms wrapped around my legs, covers bunched up around me. Harper had gone downstairs to get the wine we had left there earlier.

I was studying my thumb, which had been throbbing for some time. I noticed that the skin had split again a little, a thin angry line of scarlet running across the flesh, probably aggravated by Harper sucking on it, opening the wound once again.

The apartment was very quiet. Too quiet. I was used to music flowing through the house. At home there was always music playing in whatever room we happened to be in or the television chattered away in a corner somewhere, even if we weren't paying attention, it carried on regardless, filling the room with welcome noise. I hated silence. It always made me feel uncomfortable and eager to fill the void with any kind of sound.

Harper appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying two glasses and he ambled over and handed me one of them, before retreating over to the balcony, where he leaned casually against the chrome rail, watching me as I took small sips. He had tugged his jeans back on; leaving the buttons undone and I couldn't help but let my eyes wander over his bare chest, allowing them to linger on the small trail of dark hair at the base of his stomach. The heat spread out down my arms and tingled in my fingertips. I felt tired suddenly and I knew my body was probably just trying to catch up with the night's events.

The wine soon worked its magic, sending a warm woozy current through my cheeks and relaxing the muscles in my neck which had been squeezing tighter and tighter as I had waited for Harper to repeat his actions from the first time and send me packing.

"What is it?" he finally asked, breaking the strange silence that hung in the air.

I smiled nervously and shook my head, wishing immediately that I hadn't when waves of dizziness swept through my skull, making my head feel heavy.

"Nothing. Just waiting for you to tell me you have business elsewhere," I giggled, rolling my eyes.

Harper ran his finger around the rim of the glass, before looking back at me; a strange expression on his face. "You don't have to worry about that. The only business I have right now is here and you."

I took another sip. Didn't he mean here with me? "Okay, well that's good," I said. Was I slurring? I blinked a few times and breathed out, running a hand through my hair and wishing I didn't feel so damn hot.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you," I said, suddenly remembering that question that had sparked in my head a few days before and I had forgotten it, replaced with thoughts of shadows and strange noises in my garden. "How did you know where I worked? Because I'm sure I never told you."

When he said nothing and just continued to stare at me, his face impassive, I carried on, aware that I was reverting to babbling mode but unable to stop the words gushing from my mouth. "It's okay, I'm not bothered, you know, if you did some investigating because if I'm being honest, I googled you. In fact, I googled the fuck out of you." I giggled again, and then frowned as I felt my head flop a little, as if I was falling asleep sitting up. I snapped my head up and blinked again, trying to keep myself awake.

Harper stepped away from the balcony and approached the bed and somewhere in my mind I was picturing a wild cat, stalking its prey, carefully placing one foot in front of another and barely making a sound as it moved closer and closer. When he reached the bed, he took the glass from my hand, which I gave up without protest and he placed both glasses on the side. I was vaguely aware that his glass was still full, whereas mine was practically drained.

Sitting down on the bed next to me, he took one of my hands in his, lifted it up and let it drop down onto the bed and I watched, confused and yet feeling strangely withdrawn. I felt drunk. Really drunk. And I knew his behaviour should be bothering me, something was nagging in the back of my mind; no, it was shouting at me. Shouting at me to wake up, take charge and not let this horrible woozy feeling take over.