Page 16

Stale liquor rolls off his breath, sour and cloying enough to make my stomach seize as bile creeps into the back of my throat.

I wait until I have the leverage, then shove him with every ounce of strength I can muster.

Except he doesn’t stumble.

He doesn’t slam into the wall or stagger backward the way I expect. Something stops him short.

I’m already preparing to bolt while I have the chance when Alastair’s voice cuts through the haze, and the tension holding my body rigid finally gives, my shoulders sagging with a rush of sweet relief.

He grips Dinwoodie by the back of his collar, holding him close. There’s a feral glint in Alastair’s eye as he stares down at the little weasel in his grasp. My ears strain as I attempt to hear what he whispers to Dinwoodie, but I can’t make the words out.

The stench of him grows as does his fear. My gaze drops to the wet spot blooming at his crotch, piss permeating the air surrounding us.

Dinwoodie’s chin begins to quiver, hands trembling and eyes dart around before Alastair releases him. He stumbles forward, paying me no mind as he scrambles away without a second glance in our direction.

Alastair hurries to my side, his warm palms cupping my cheeks. Gone is the feral glint of a madman, replaced by soft eyes that search mine. “Calista, are you alright?” he whispers, voice soft and reassuring.

“I am now,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around his neck and sag against him. I don’t have the energy for tears, and that man doesn’t deserve them.

A small smile twitches the corners of his lips at my admission. “Would you spend the day with me?” he asks, tilting his head.

For the first time all day, I feel safe. And I know this is all thanks to Alastair, so it is with little difficulty that I agree.

“That sounds lovely.”

“Alastair!” A laugh bursts from me unguarded, falling back against his perfectly made bed. The lush duvet envelops my body in its warmth, swirls of black and gray like smoke decorating the fine fabric.

“Yes, my ruin?” He smiles at me with a devilish grin, climbing up my body, dipping his chin to nip at my neck. “Is something funny?” He growls the words against my collarbone, the vibration reverberating into my chest and I revel in the lightness that swirls around me.

“You’re a brute!” I accuse, swatting at his chest. “Carrying me in here like I’m your bride.”

“If I had my way, that would be precisely what I’d make you,” he answers with a wink before addressing my real issue with the gesture. “No one saw us,” he says with a subtle eyeroll and a wide grin that makes my heart flutter. “And even if they had, would it be so bad? We may shock some people, but at least we’re not murderers.”

My stomach plummets, and a moment of painful silence passes between us, his brows pinching together as I allow it to drag on. With some effort, I school my expression.

But I can’t help but to think: are we not?

“Y-yes, well, I suppose you have a point.” I sit up, and he rolls to his side to accommodate me.

I pull on the collar of my button-down, suddenly feeling suffocated.

“Are you warm? It looks like the snow has slowed some. I’ll open the window.” Alastair stands with an easy grace, padding across the wooden floors, which creak beneath his steps, before slinging the window open. A gust of cool wind sweeps inside, and I suck in a deep breath, feeling my lungs fill for the first time in what feels like weeks.

“Better?” he asks.

“Much.” This earns me another warm smile, and he takes a cream-colored, fur blanket from the back of his reading chair, wrapping it around my shoulders.

“Care to read with me?” he asks, holding out a hand for me to take. I do without hesitation, following him to the large, peacock-blue, velvet chair and take a seat in his lap. He picks up the novel on the small table beside him, thumbing through the pages.

I recognize the worn brown cover and gold lettering, my cheeks warming. “You just happened to be reading this?” I ask, cocking a brow.

“It reminds me of you, and you bring me great joy, Calista. In a time like this, I think that means more than ever before,” he answers, humming to himself as he finds his spot between the yellowed pages of my favorite book, and then, he begins to read to me.

I’ve no idea how long we remain here with my body curled around his, my cheek pressed to his chest, his warmth radiating into my bones as the sky turns to night, the room growing colder with every passing moment. We fall into the beautiful words of a gothic love story, filled with loss and heartache, until we approach the fretful end where she finds her one true love and nothing and no one can harm her. I almost allow myself to believe in such endings, though some part of me knows they exist only on the pages of well-loved books and in my wildest dreams.

The ever-present ache has left my body, my chest no longer feeling tight and my mind is clear by the time he reads the very last words.

“The end.”