Reign of a King: Chapter 21

Aurora isn’t home when I get back.

She isn’t answering her phone either. And my last email is still without a reply.

I’m not to be ignored. If she’s throwing one of her fits or acting out, I’m going to take it out on her arse.

Only, she’s not the type who throws a fit without a solid reason. This morning, she came all over my fingers after she licked her plate clean.

When I let her go, she smoothed her skirt and grumbled that she needed a change of clothes as she headed back to her room.

There was no need for a fit.

No matter how she feels wronged, Aurora realises how much she needs the touch only I can provide. She knows that she can’t fight herself when it comes to me. The harder she denies it, the faster her body falls under my command.

There’s euphoria in the way she falls, even when she doesn’t want to. I’m slowly shaping her to be my perfect submissive, but at the same time, I don’t want to extinguish her fire. I also don’t want to erase the way she glares up at me every time she comes down from her high.

She hates that she can’t resist of her trance when it comes to me. And because she can’t do anything about it, she directs that hatred towards me.

I’m fine with it. As long as I have her in my grasp.

It started with the need to unravel her and the blasphemy of thinking she could keep a secret from me.

Now, it’s more.

I don’t even understand it myself, but I’m ready to see it until the very end.

Which brings me to her flat.

A quick inquiry with Harris told me all I needed to know. She had a visit from Maxim’s solicitor and she escaped to here.

I hit in the code and go inside. The security came to ask who I am, but after a talk with Harris, who’s now waiting for me in the car, he backed away.

The flat is dark except for the TV which shows a black screen but it’s not turned off. An automatic light flashes at the entrance as I step inside.

Aurora’s flat is medium-sized with countless pictures of watches on the walls. Her taste is mostly in black and white. Her sofas are black. Her walls are white. The hanged watches are black, the carpet is white.

The colour scheme hints at something different than her taste, highlighting her internal chaos.

At first, I don’t see her, but then I make out a body curled into a foetal position on the floor.

I pause, trying to get a better view of the scene before me. Something inside me moves. No idea what it is, but it just moves.

I stride to her and crouch in front of her motionless body. I exhale deeply when I notice the rise and fall of her shoulders.

Her pale hands hold her knees to her chest, fingers twitching involuntarily and limbs spasming. Her black strands block her vision, so I lift them up with two fingers.

Aurora’s eyes are screwed shut so tight, almost as if she’s afraid to open them. Her lips are clamped in a line, her pink lipstick smudged. Mascara and dried tears cover her cheeks.

“Why…” she murmurs. “Why?”

It must be about Maxim. Is she having nightmares about him, or is she perhaps reliving certain memories?

“Aurora.”

She doesn’t even stir, so I shake her shoulder. For some reason, I don’t want her trapped in that place. That place only injected her with suffering and pain.

“Aurora!”

Her eyes flutter open, but she doesn’t see me, not really. It’s almost like she’s looking through me. The deep, dark blue of her irises are caught in a trance she can’t force herself out of.

I run my fingers through her hair. “Come on, wild one. Come back.”

She doesn’t. For a moment, she stares ahead as if enchanted by something on the TV.

My fingers slide to her neck and I squeeze a little, increasing the pressure in small increments until she focuses on me.

She does, but her eyes aren’t quite there. It’s almost like she wants to see me but isn’t able to do so.

“Alicia can’t be gone. Not today.” Her voice is brittle, haunted even. “She can’t, Jonathan.”

I wrap my arm around her back and she bunches my jacket in a lethal grip, her body shaking, breaths trembling.

It comes back to me then.

Aurora received the news of Alicia’s death the day she reported her father’s crimes. No idea why I haven’t thought about that fact before.

All her tragedies happened in one day. One blow after the other. She was only sixteen and didn’t know what life was before it was snatched away from her.

No wonder she needed a rebirth.

Now that a part of her nightmares is back, she’s been shoved back eleven years in the past.

I carry her in my arms and she snuggles into my hold, her body still shaking. Despite being considerably tall, she’s light as a feather.

The way her curves mould into me feels natural and effortless. Like it was always meant to be.

A whimper tears out of her as she nuzzles her nose into my jacket. “Alicia…”

“She’s not here, but I am. I’ll always be here, wild one.”