17

 

 

Aurora

 

 

Something is wrong.

This feeling has been a constant over the last couple of days. It could be because Jonathan didn’t spank me hard enough and has disappeared from my side when I wake up in the morning. He’s usually there the entire night, sometimes holding me through the aftermath of my nightmares, and other times staring at me as if he’s making sure of something. What, I don’t know.

Needless to say, after that night at Aiden’s house, I’ve been sleeping in Jonathan’s bed. My room was cleaned up and appears as good as new. However, each time I end up there, even to grab my things, Jonathan grabs me by my hand and leads me back to his room.

Not that I’ve wanted to spend any nights alone after those voices I dreamt about.

He still spanks me as ‘punishment’, but we both know it’s so much more than that.

It’s our connection.

It’s something that fills his eyes with possessiveness and mine with raw lust.

Sometimes, I wake up with his face buried between my legs. Other times, he fucks me into the mattress with his hand around my throat. He then sleeps with his cock deep inside me just so he can pick up where he left off in the middle of the night.

He exhausts me, but at the same time, he completes me in the strangest way possible.

There’s no getting enough of Jonathan. The harder he takes it out on me, the more I meet him head-on. If he’s a hurricane, I’m the wind that gets off on the damage he causes.

But it’s not always damage, and that’s what throws me for a loop. After he marks my arse with his handprint and wrenches one orgasm after the other out of me, Jonathan doesn’t stand up and leave like when I first came into his life.

He doesn’t look at me as if I’m an annoyance or something he’s bent on breaking. There’s acceptance in his steel eyes now, the sort that both frightens and intrigues me. Being on the receiving end of Jonathan’s attention is like living in a high-alert mode twenty-four-seven.

Then he does things that make me pause.

Every day, he either makes us shower together, or he runs me a bath and takes special care with washing my hair. It’s become so much of a habit that I get infuriated when I have to do it myself.

He also gets frustratingly protective whenever I hurt myself in any way.

Over time, he’s eventually stopped being a blank board in front of his children. Jonathan will always be Jonathan; however, he sometimes follows my lead and doesn’t purposefully act like a bastard.

I might be addicted to his harshness, but his tenderness strikes a completely different chord inside me. A part of me is slowly leaving my body and creeping to his side, and although I’m aware of it, there’s no way I can stop it.

He’s a steep cliff, and I keep rolling down, enjoying every bump and hit.

However, today, there’s something wrong.

When he gave me an undecipherable look this morning, I brushed it off. Jonathan does a lot of watching and observing, and not all of his expressions can be explained.

After all, he didn’t give me that look again, the ‘You’re crazy’ one. We’re past that phase, right? There’s no way he’ll bring that back up.

And yet, that doesn’t alleviate the tension sinking to the bottom of my stomach. I caught myself touching my watch more than often today, and I barely pushed through the meetings.

I leave work early, opting to go home. Not that Jonathan will be there at this time.

My feet come to a halt in front of my car. Did I just call Jonathan’s house home? Since when did I start considering it as such?

I shake my head, not wanting to think about it. Just when I’m about to open the door, a dark shadow passes in my peripheral vision.

My hand freezes as I search my surroundings.

H&H’s car park isn’t that big, but it’s still underground and silent. The only sound is the buzzing from one of the defective neon lights.

This time, I don’t stand there and wait for the hit.

I beep my car and reach out to open the door. When a hand comes from behind me, I startle, hitting blindly.

It’s like I’m pushed back to that day eleven years ago. Soon, there’ll be the crunch of the blade against my bones, then blood — lots of blood — followed by pain.

Uncontrollable pain.

I’ll be buried alive in a grave. I’ll be just like those women, where no one will hear my screams.

“No!” I shriek, then shove my hand in my bag and retrieve the pepper spray I started keeping on me since my most recent attack.

I whirl around and point it at the shadow. I don’t care if he’s a member of a victim’s family. I shouldn’t be the subject of his wrath.

My voice is strong and comes from the bottom of my gut. “If you want to attack anyone, go stab the fucker Maxim!”

“Whoa.”

My hold falters on the pepper spray as I come face-to-face with none other than Ethan Steel.

My harsh breathing slows down and I glance behind him as if expecting to find the shadow. Sure enough, there’s what resembles a shadow, but it’s only Agnus.

“Sorry.” I drop the bottle back into my bag. “I thought it was someone else.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, and it’s kind of welcoming. Kind of, because there’s something else behind it that I can’t pinpoint.

“Is there something I can help you with, Ethan?”

“Yes, and I can’t exactly visit you at Jonathan’s place or he’ll chase me away with a shotgun.” He motions at his car. “Do you have a moment?”

I hesitate for a beat. It’s not only due to Jonathan’s warnings about staying away from Ethan — and the entire male population, per his words. I also want to go home tonight. It feels crucial that I be there.

Seeming to sense my hesitation, Ethan says, “It’s about Jonathan.”

That gets my attention. No matter how much Jonathan says he hates Ethan, he was once his best friend. One way or another, he knew him better than anyone else.

I follow to Ethan’s car and Agnus joins in the front seat beside the driver. He’s like Harris in a way, but without the latter’s weird antics and snobbish sense of humour. He’s kind of grown on me. Even Margot’s and Tom’s silence has grown on me, too.

Everything that I was wary of about Jonathan’s entourage has eventually snuck its way into my life. Before I knew it, they became an inseparable part.

The car rolls down the streets. The bright city lights and the endless traffic are visible through the tinted window. No idea why all of it gives me a horrific premonition.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask Ethan.

He leans an elbow on the armrest between us and pins me down like a lab researcher would do to his guinea pig. “Why don’t you tell me, Aurora? What’s your secret?”

My heart pounds at that word. Secret. Whenever someone says it, I feel like my past will come running in and ruin any type of stability I’ve been building for years. Not that Ethan would know anything about it.

Right?

Adopting my nonchalant tone, I say, “My secret concerning what?”

“Concerning how Jonathan treats you. He’s never shown his true feelings about anyone — at least not until he crushes them. Hell, he didn’t even act this way towards his father and brother when they were alive.”