A Beautiful Torment

32. Safe

"Lola, that boy is de-lish. Tell me you've at least had a taste."

"A taste? That boy needed a transfusion when I was done with him."

My eyes flew open and I blinked rapidly in the darkness, confusion surging through my system. It took a few seconds for me to remember where I was and how I'd gotten there in the first place, but as soon as the events of yesterday started to tumble through my head, I pushed the coverlet off my shoulders and climbed to my feet.

The wide-screen television provided the only light in the dark room, a source of background noise in the otherwise quiet room. Two pale brunettes conversed on screen, their fangs flashing with each smile.

I shivered. As if I needed another reminder of the world I'd unwittingly found myself in. I glanced around, trying to catch my bearings. I'd fallen asleep on the sofa at some point, which didn't really come as a surprise. I'd passed the point of exhaustion long before I'd made it to this room. The clock on the wall told me it was a little after four a.m., and as far as I knew, Wyatt still hadn't... what was the word he'd used? Re-spawned?

Worry squirmed in my stomach. Nikolas had shot him in the head – what if he couldn't re-spawn or whatever? What if there were some things that you just couldn't come back from?

Another shiver slithered down my spine and I rubbed my arms absently as I wandered over to the closet. The sheer size of thing was overwhelming. Racks upon racks of clothes lined the interior, and a small spotlight lit up above my head with the opening of the door. It wasn't difficult to figure out what items of clothing Wyatt had actually worn when he lived here; most of the tracksuits and darker clothes had a rumpled, impatiently-folded look about them.

I nabbed one of his black t-shirts, subtly inhaling the waft of male deodorant and simply Wyatt as I slipped it on over my head. The material was like a small dress on me, falling mid-thigh. The sleeves almost reached my elbows.

I was about to walk back into the bedroom when ripple of pain shot through my stomach, and I crippled over, a hiss of pain escaping my lips. I clutched at my stomach, moaning softly, but I couldn't help it – a small thrill darted through my veins.

Wyatt, my heart whispered. Wyatt's back.

Suddenly, I was running. I couldn't recall making the conscious decision to run, only that my hands were curling around the door handle before I even realized where I was headed. I sprinted down the long hallway, barely sparing a glance for the creepy portraits, and down the stairs, tracing the path that Sophia had shown me earlier.

He's back, my heart continued to pound. He's back, he's back, Wyatt's back.

I burst through the front door and stumbled out into the cold, night air. Several heads turned in my direction – the guards. For the first time since my stomach cramp, I started to rethink what I was doing. What if they chased after me? Nobody had said anything, but I wasn't stupid enough to believe that I was free to come and go as I pleased. I'd seen the gates at the entrance to the property; nobody got in, and nobody got out. Not without the master's express permission.

He's back, my heart pounded urgently. He's back, go, go, go, he's back.

My whole body trembled with the urge to run.

Oh, hell.

I hurried down the steps and took off toward the end of the house, my heart pounding as I raced by each guard. None of them attempted to stop me; I guess they were more concerned about preventing things from entering the house, rather than leaving it. I couldn't imagine many could find their way past the gates, anyway.