A huge chest of drawers drew her attention, its mirror hung suspended between two gracefully arched wings. It looked old, possibly even very old.
The cold floor drew what little heat remained in her as she crept toward it. She opened the top drawer, finding an array of women’s underclothing.
She touched the sheer fabric, withdrew a pair of panties. They were black. Created for seduction. She opened the next drawer—jeans, cut low and very expensive.
“See something you like?”
She laughed, unsure.
He drew closer; his hand reaching up to fondle a strand of her wildly curling hair.
“They’re my sister’s,” he said, a seductive smile curling his lips.
“The two of you are about the same size. His eyes lowered, perceptively.
She flashed a quick glance behind her. “My sister…” she began.
“She’ll be looking for me.”
“Not for some time yet,” he said, enigmatically.
Confusion registered in her eyes.
“Come.” He encouraged.
She followed, keeping a wary eye on his back.
“I’ve taken the liberty of drawing you a bath.”
“Honestly, I’d rather not.” She looked on the verge of panic.
“Maggie.” He sighed pushing her gently back until she was pressed firmly against the huge wooden door. He reached behind her.
“Wait!”
He stopped, looking at her through black lenses.
“You are my guest, Magdalene. Please, have no fear.” He opened the door, watching her stumble backward into the most opulent bathroom she’d ever seen.
Tub and shower were separate. Both were made of a coal black marble, inlaid with golden filigree. The showering area was encased in glass. A stripper’s pole had been installed at some point, making her feel even more out of place.
She turned back, finding him watching her, a slight smile softening his full, sensual lips. He turned, prepared to give her the privacy she obviously required. Walking away silently, he sat down at a desk across the room. He picked up a pen which he put to paper; his guest seemingly forgotten for the time being.
She closed the door quietly. No lock. No way to keep him out where he in the mind to barge in. She looked around uneasily. She was alone. Where had the light haired one gone? He had come in this same door or had he? Oh god. What was happening to her?
She was going too.
Maggie!
Her hand went to the button at the base of her throat as the voice echoed throughout her mind.
Suddenly the fear drained out of her, had she heard something? She wanted only to sink into the heated bath. It was oversized, deep; she would be submerged all the way to her neck. She pulled the shirt over her head. Her pants were next. She folded them up in a bundle, heaping them up together with her shirt and underwear.
She eased in. The water was hot, but it felt good after the chill of the porcelain tile. Her hair was in need of washing, so she let it float about her; she dunked her head, shaking out her hair under water.
“Awe.” She sighed as she submerged.
She used the cake of what appeared to be homemade soap. She lathered herself, finding the scent to her liking. The water was softened with conditioners that held the same aroma. The scent seemed slightly familiar.
She felt good. The heat was relaxing her.
Missing time. It was phenomena she was all too familiar with. It was a byproduct of the mental chaos that all but defined her early adolescence. She had been diagnosed, paranoid schizophrenia. And sometimes, someone else took over, completely. Basically, she was a freak, worse; she was a psychotic freak.
But that was before. She had a life now, a career…meds.
She laughed. She had her sanity, and it was not going to slip away just because she had another episode.
Was that what this was? The gap in her memory was the same or rather normal. But that is where the similarities ended. She should be terrified; she should be worried sick actually. Why wasn’t she? It was almost like she was under a spell.
She heard laughter.
She bolted, splashing water out of the tub. She instantly sank down low.
She heard a distant chuckle, somewhere inside her head. A moment later, she knew no more.
*****
Liquid moonlight glittered like diamonds under the full moon. Silent and cold, the waves crashed violently outside the picture window, breaking with a flash of white against the jagged cliffs below.
“Oh my god.” She stopped, staring at the scene. “This must be a dream,” she said quietly.
“Not this time,” he rumbled, shooting her a glance through the shades that were forever close at hand.
The world tilted, drawing her forward, toward him. He put a steadying hand on her back when her hands came in contact with his chest.
He pulled away, leaving her with vulnerable eyes that pierced into his soul.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely.
“There is no need for apologies,” he said in that distinctive voice.
“It is your company which I desire the most.”
“Me?”
“You are Maggie?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then yes, I am in good company.” He said, reaching out to capture one long braid.
Her hair was divided, straight down from the crown of her head, plaited and still slightly damp. The water had held conditioners that perfumed her skin with an essence of some exotic muskiness. She swallowed hard hoping to find her voice.
“I should find m-my…”
“You will see her again.” He returned.
He led her down a spiral staircase; it was made of stone. The steps shallow and wide. It seemed as though they went on forever, circling the interior wall of a gigantic tower. She had navigated them gracefully up until now.
They arrived at what turned out into the strongholds entrance. It was boldly arched, dramatically carved wooden door of unbelievable size.
She was enthralled as it opened with a resonant creak.
“Come,” he said as he led her outside, into
