Her Dirty Little Secret [R 18+]

16 | Our Dance With Death

Pulling my flesh free from her sharp grip, I reply, "but that would be too easy."

The biological string that connected us broke and for the first time in my eighteen years of life, I walked away from the woman who birthed me.

Leaving the sterile scent of the hospital room behind, my heart thudded in my chest blocking out any other sound. With each step that took me away from her, I found strength. She no longer held any power over me.

I could sense her eyes burning into my back, but I didn't turn around. I kept walking down the corridor, past the night shift nurses who offered me polite smiles, past the occasional patient shuffling along with their IV stand in tow.

My mind was a tempest of emotion, yet oddly, at its core, was peace. Because I knew without a single doubt, Alaric would be my salvation.

Arriving at the police station, I tried my hand with the ladies behind the front desk.

They told me that they could not disclose any information regarding Alaric, and my hope dissipated as they continued; informing me that they'd placed caution tape around the house, leaving me with nowhere to go and no family to rely on.

I found myself lost and unsure of what to do next.

Stepping back into the busy street, I looked up, hoping the sky would give me answers me. When none came, I slumped down against the tiled walls, my bottom meeting hard cement steps. People walked past me, looking, judging... but my eyes remained glued to the large glass sliding doors.

My muscles grew weak and numb after hours of exertion, while my stomach demanded attention. Blinking rapidly, I tried to wet my strained eyes that threatened to burn into crispy rounds.

I'd almost given up hope when a shadow fell over my form.

Looking up, I took in the setting sun which casts a halo around the devil before me. Alaric stood on the steps of the precinct, his gaze narrowing on my small form. He moved with purpose, dropping down and cupping my face between his hands.

The muscles in his jaw ticked and I could feel the anger rolling off him as he asked, "are you okay?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, though my body felt weak and now in the safety of his arms I allowed it to shudder with the aftershocks of the past twenty-four hours.

Alaric's eyes, filled with concern and fury, searched my face looking for the words that were carved into my soul unable to pass my lips. When he found what he needed, he said, "come, you need food and sleep."

There was an edge of angst about him, a barely restrained violence.

He didn't need to say it for me to know he could not stand the idea of me being deprived in any way. I was learning very quickly that Alaric might not care for much, but those things he did care for, he cared for with unrelenting tenacity.