Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
When we could enter our house for the first time, my pulse pounded in my veins like it rarely did anymore. I took Amelia’s hand as I led her through the wide wooden double door into a light-flooded entrance hall. Tall arched windows flanked the entrance door. The entrance hall was two stories tall with a glass dome that allowed sunshine to spill down. An open staircase led up to a wide gallery where my trophies were displayed. Gold, dark wood, and purple velvet dominated the insides.
The staff kitchen and the bodyguard quarters were at the very back in a separate wing. A door separated that part of the house from ours, so Amelia and I would be alone in our home most of the time. Amelia and I descended the winding staircase, arriving at a dressing room on the first landing, then moved up farther to the huge circular bedroom in the turret. The walls were made of windows, allowing sunlight to stream in. A claw-footed copper bathtub perched beneath one of those windows. Our round bed stood in the center of the room. The purple comforter contrasted with the black wood of the bed frame and flooring. Behind the bed, a circular shower made entirely of glass allowed the person inside to look out toward the sky or the Hollywood Hills. Amelia stepped up to the window beside the bathtub, which faced the gardens.
My eyes drifted toward the place where the rose maze used to be. It had been torn away. Only one wall behind my mother’s gravestone and two rose arches remained. “It feels like being in the sky,” Amelia said with a pensive smile.
I nodded. The turret was the perfect place for our bedroom, above everyone else, and with a spectacular view.
Amelia beamed up at me. “I feel free. Really free, for the first time in…” She shook her head, her brows pulling together. “In forever.”
I wrapped my arms around her and put my chin down on the top of her head with a small smile. “When I’m here with you, I sense peace. In the outside world, the darkness always spills forth, and I’m the raging monster everyone fears, but in our home, I’m more than a beast.”
She touched my hand. “This will be our safe place, the place where you can be vulnerable and we can be us.”
“Us.”
I led her down to the light-flooded living room with the majestic French windows. Her eyes darted to the piano on the right. Her brows furrowed as she peered up at me.
“You don’t have to play if you don’t want to. I know you never enjoyed it, but…”
“I remember you telling me in the basement that you hoped to hear me play the piano one day.”
I didn’t say anything. She was right, though. She licked her lips, then tugged me toward the piano. She sat on the purple leather bench but didn’t start playing. Her hands rested in her lap. She patted the spot beside her. I sank onto the bench.
Amelia placed her fingers on the keys, then closed her eyes. “It’s been a while for me.”
She started playing “Clair de lune.” I released a deep breath and relaxed. I remembered hating this song whenever my teacher forced me to play it, but listening to Amelia play it, I decided it was beautiful.
“You can join me if you want,” Amelia whispered as she glanced at me, but she never stopped playing.
I stared at the keys, then lifted my hands. The notes I played ruined the beautiful melody. I never had trouble handling a knife, but my fingers, scarred by years of torture, weren’t nimble enough to match Amelia’s skill. I jerked my hands back with a scowl. “I’m not good. I ruined the song.”
Amelia froze. “You didn’t ruin anything.” She reached for one of my hands and traced my scars with her fingertips. “I love your hands. I love how they give me pleasure, how they wipe away my tears, how they touch me as if I were the most precious thing in the world.”
“You are,” I murmured.
Amelia kissed my palm, then she returned her fingers to the keys and continued to play. “Do you want me to continue?”
“Yes.”
She held my gaze as her fingers danced over the keys. The rage and despair over my scarred hands vanished as I listened to her play. Eventually, she stopped. I cupped her cheeks and kissed her. “I imagined this moment, but my imagination failed to capture the full scope of your beauty.”
“Did you hear?” Niccolo asked as he picked me up after my fight in the amphitheater. I had won and killed two opponents. The crowd had chanted my name, but their faces had reflected abhorrence and fear. They couldn’t stay away, even if my actions disturbed them. It was the drug of choice in their pathetic lives, a little otherworldly charm for their ordinary existence.