Jess Haines - Enslaved By the Others

Of course I ended up face-planting on the floor. The moment I tried to put weight on my left leg, the combination of the movement and the flare of agony that burned its way from my outer thigh all the way up to my rib cage was paralyzing. Before I could catch myself, I was down, stars in my vision and my knees and palms stinging from catching my weight. Hardly noticeable after the fire on my hip, but it still wasn’t pleasant.

If anything, getting up off the floor was even more painful than getting off the bed. Everything hurt. Even my jaw, from clenching so hard against the cloth I’d shoved in my mouth. At least it kept the breathless whimpers muffled. Even to my own ears it sounded strange, inhuman, more like an injured animal than a person. Hard to believe those sounds were coming from me.

Limping across the carpet, I approached a closed door next to the bathroom—I assumed it was a closet—to see if there might be anything useful inside. Clinging to the handle for balance, I blinked in surprise at the contents.

Corsets. Dresses. High heels. Light dusters and jackets meant for show, not snow. Looked like someone had done their shopping in bulk at Hot Topic. This room had belonged to a woman, someone with a closet full of pretty, but not very functional, things. A guest? Or a vampire, maybe, impervious to the cold weather? No, a vampire wouldn’t want a room with a skylight.

Not that the previous occupant, or why they left their wardrobe behind, mattered. Anything had to be better than what I was wearing now.

The white leather pants and matching corset with a long-sleeved shirt underneath seemed best. Harder to see against the snow. Leather would be a smidge more useful than the lacy or satiny numbers. There would still be far too much skin showing.

Whoever these belonged to before was bustier in the chest and longer in the leg than me, but I didn’t care. Even with all the strategically fashionable slashes and holes, they covered most of my vital parts, and that made them infinitely better than the robe. I grabbed a pair of boots a couple of sizes too big, with heels much higher than anything I was used to wearing.

Limping across the floor, I searched the drawers of the nearest dresser, almost crying with relief when I saw there were warm socks in one, not just more fanciful crap that wouldn’t do me any good outside. I could layer up and maybe stuff some inside the boots to make do until I could find something more practical and better-fitting.

I put on the clothes, then emptied and moved the dresser. Before putting on the heels. I might have been in a frantic state of mind, but I wasn’t going to be that stupid about my escape attempt.

Through the tears, the burning, the pain, I managed to use the adrenaline and terror to find the energy to get the furniture into place. It took a couple of tries and another blackout before I managed to pick up and balance the end table. I did need a breather once I got that far, but I didn’t wait too long.

Too much noise, too much time going by. I didn’t dare stop to rest too long because every moment ticking by brought sunset, and Max’s inevitable return, that much closer.

Slinging the boots over my shoulder, tied together by the wide lace shoestrings, and stuffing the bandages and medicines in my pockets, I tugged the sheets off the bed, wrapping them around my neck and shoulders.

Pulling myself on top of the dresser was even harder than putting on the pants. Not only did I have the leather rubbing against the brand, but the pull and strain of sore, hurting muscles and stretching the skin around the burn made everything hurt .

Once I got on top of the end table, I had to stop. Wait. Crouched, clinging to the edges, mentally grasping for equilibrium that wasn’t there. Another blackout was coming, just there, graying the edges of my vision. Not now, not yet. I had to get out first.

Closing my eyes, I prayed for it to pass. A few breaths. A few heartbeats.

There was a sound outside my door. A scrape, like shoes scuffing on the marble floor.

My vision was still blurry but I forced myself to open my eyes and get to my feet. There was a bit of wobbling, but I managed to keep from falling over. Wiping moisture off my cheeks with the back of my hand, I blinked up at the skylight. A latch. One flimsy little latch was all that now stood between me and freedom.

I turned the knob, got up on tiptoe to push the window open. Despite the weight of snow, it lifted without much effort on my part. Cold seeped in, almost instantly chilling my fingers, followed by the scent of wood smoke and frozen earth.

A breath of freedom. It was sweet, but I needed to move fast. There was a wire alarm on the side of the window I hadn’t seen. Someone, somewhere, would know something was wrong. No matter how much it hurt, I had to get going.

The pain of pulling myself up on the slick, icy ledge was different. Biting, but clean, the natural burn of straining muscles in my arms. Nothing like the searing hurt on my hip.

The ice bit right through the corset, but it took a bit longer for the cold to seep through the leather pants. I was careful to lead with my right leg once I swung my body up. A quick roll, a flash of pain as I put weight on my branded hip, a muted thump from the window closing—and I was out. On the roof, alone and free.

I might have sat there panting and shivering for a minute or twenty while the knots of terror gripping my heart and lungs eased. The air was cold, but I savored the feel of unobstructed sunlight warming my cheek, sensing the glow through my closed eyelids. The taste of freedom and air not tainted by the musk of vampire and quiet desperation was sweet, but I needed to get the hell out of there before someone discovered I was gone.

Rising to my bare feet, I stood and surveyed my surroundings. Dark, heavy clouds spoke of an incoming storm, which would both hide my tracks and make my escape harder once it hit. From my vantage point on the roof, I thought this part of the house faced what might be the backyard. On three sides it stretched for acres. I didn’t see an entrance or a back gate, but I was pretty sure I could reach and climb the rough stone wall surrounding the property. If I could get on the ground and kept on the east side of the property, I would be out in the open for a good stretch, but my chances of getting out unseen would be better.

The snow was thick, so I took it slow, easing myself toward the edge. The cold bit into my toes like tiny needles worming under the skin, but there was no way I was going to risk slipping in heels on a patch of ice and breaking my ass or neck. Aside from the discomfort to my feet, I didn’t have much trouble shuffling down the slope of the roof, though I did have a brief bout of vertigo when I looked over the edge.

Three stories. I couldn’t jump that. Not without breaking something.

Good thing I had brought the sheet with me.

A few minutes later, the balls of my feet and ankles stinging—not to mention the incredible pain in my hip from the crouched landing after the short fall from the end of the knotted sheet—I was on the ground.

I didn’t dare take any more time. The longer I waited, the greater the chance Max’s cronies on security detail would figure out I was gone and catch up to me.

Stumbling through the snow, I made a beeline for the wall surrounding the property. I needed speed, and the high heels would cut into that enormously, more than the limp caused by my aching hip already did. I could put on the boots once I was over the wall and safe on the other side.

“Hey! Get back here!”

No. No, no, no. I wasn’t stopping, not for one of Max’s people, not for anything.