CHAPTER3
795 Words
The next day, I couldn’t concentrate at work. All I could think of was him. I felt drawn to him, even though I couldn’t explain why. The pull was a tide I couldn’t fight or deny. So by evening, I found myself heading to The Glass Den, again.
He looked up as I walked in. It was almost as if he had been expecting me.
Has he been thinking about me too? The thought surprisingly excited me.
“I told you to stay away.” His clipped, terse tone immediately shattered my delusion.
“I should,” I said, terrified. It was the bravest thing I had ever said.
He sidled the counter with all the grace of a predator, stopping so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. The air crackled between us.
“But not without you telling me what you are.” I finished with a bravado I didn’t feel. I tried not to get lost in the stormy depths of his gaze. And failed.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
I didn’t know why this man was indulging me but I wasn’t going to stop now I’d gotten the opportunity.
“What’s there to know?”
He walked back behind the counter and began mixing a martini. I knew because he turned to reach for olives and gin.
“For starters, how did you do what you did last night?”
He slid it to my side of the counter as I braced myself for his response.
He briefly contemplated his answer before saying, “That wasn’t me.”
“Oh…so it was all a figment of my imagination?”
I took a sip of the drink I didn’t order.
“It would seem so.” He said with a smirk.
I restrained myself from smashing my martini glass against the wall. This man wasn’t going to give me answers. Coming here has been a waste of time.
“Look,” I said resignedly, “there are dead bodies washing up ashore every full moon. Can you help me or not?”
He held my gaze for what felt like forever but was really just a few seconds, before looking away.
“I can’t.”
“I see,” Was the only thing I could mumble.
“Well, this was nice but I’ve gotta go.” I hadn’t felt this defeated since I got news of my parents’ death.
I was halfway through the door when I heard him say, “We’re going to need more than martini if you want to stomach what I’m about to tell you.”
I noticed his hands were tucked into his pockets as he spoke. Without waiting for my response or consent, he hailed a cab, held open the door and told me to go in, which I did.
It was already dark, so I couldn’t see what route the driver took. We’d been moving for nearly twenty minutes when the cab came to a screeching halt, signaling we’d arrived. The whole ride, Caspian hadn’t spared me a single glance. I didn’t know how to feel about that.
Nothing could have prepared me for what waited on the other side of that door. The mansion sat on the outskirts of the city, perched on a cliff like it had been placed there deliberately as a statement, not a home. From where we stood, the city’s lake stretched out below us, black and glittering under the night sky, the distant lights of the city reflected on its surface like scattered embers. The building itself was all clean stone and dark glass, imposing and quietly arrogant, the kind of place that didn’t need a gate to make you feel like you didn’t belong.
“You live here?!” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. So much for my resolve to stay silent and let everything play out. It hadn’t even been thirty minutes. Caspian’s only response was a low chuckle.
I couldn’t be blamed. The man was full of surprises — first the strange incident two days ago, now this. A mansion on a cliff. It was all too much to process at once.
“Hungry?”
“What?” His question caught me completely off guard.
“Are you hungry?” He repeated slowly, enunciating each word like he was addressing someone with special needs. I smiled despite myself. So he had a sense of humor. Good for him.
“I could eat.”
He turned and disappeared down a corridor without another word, leaving me alone to wander the living room, all high ceilings, low light, and the kind of beautiful silence that let you know you were safe.
- Writer
