Arran’s Obsession (Body Count, #1)

Something had woken me. A noise, or a sensation on my body, I wasn’t sure which, but it had drawn me from sleep and out of my room. Noiselessly, on bare feet and wrapping a silk dressing gown over my skimpy sleep clothes, I padded to the stairs then sat at the top, eyes open for danger and my stomach a tight ball of worry.

Minutes passed. Cold air crept around my thighs.

My father’s mayoral house was designed to impress, and the entranceway had high ceilings so sound echoed. But tonight, it was as silent as the grave. No one else was supposed to be here but me. Father was away for the night, and any help he employed was daytime only. Perhaps that was it—the reason behind my jumpiness. When he was here, he brought others with him, and the house would be busy.

Not empty, with sinister, hollow rooms staring back at me.

Moving on down the steps, I peeked into the receiving room. Nothing. The front door was firmly closed, too, which I checked with a quick test of the lock. Turning, I faced the shadowy interior with trepidation. Between checking the rest of the house and hiding away in my room, I knew the more appealing option, but the house contained valuable antiques and other items of importance. If someone had broken in and my father discovered I’d done nothing, he’d…

I couldn’t finish the thought.

Swallowing fear, I forced my feet to move and stole on down the hallway. All the rooms to the right were public spaces, and all those to the left were private, the kitchens, the pantry, Father’s office. I prowled into the space nicknamed the council chamber for its wood-panelled walls and the oval, highly polished table in the centre with heavy chairs surrounding. More business got done here than in Deadwater Council’s actual seat of power.

Thankfully, it was empty, and the French doors that led to our gardens shut. No smashed glass. No wrecked ironwork. I checked the bathroom, the sun room, then a small side room where I’d had the misfortune of catching more than one man in the middle of an exposing act with a lady.

All tranquil, nothing to give me any pause.

Yet for me to have been pulled from sleep, it had to have been something. Ever since childhood, I’d slept hard, usually with my door barricaded and unconsciousness a welcome release from my tense existence. Managing Father was like walking a tightrope—one wrong move and I’d cause one of his moods. Sleep was a comparative place of safety, like a form of self-defence or hibernation. Then as a teenager, when hormones kicked in and left me sleepless, I struggled for a while until my body regulated and solved the problem.

Oftentimes, it was almost like being drugged.

I’d be out cold until daylight returned, and grateful for it. If only I had that now, rather than playing security in a big and empty house.

Back in the hall, I crossed to the kitchen entrance, one hand out to push the swinging door.

Something creaked.

My heart thumped. I whipped around, trying to locate the source of the sound. In my position in the centre of the corridor, the noise could’ve come from multiple directions, stone floors and hardwood surfaces bouncing it to me.

Another creak, closer.

My pulse picked up, and my breathing turned jagged. I backed away until my shoulders touched the pillar of the council chamber’s entrance, the door open behind me but at least that space cleared and checked.

My bravery shook. My hands did, too.

Nothing moved in the slice of the house in my vision, but I hadn’t made up what I’d heard.

My phone was upstairs, foolishly left behind. We had a patrolling security team on our gated community, and I would’ve called them right away except the man who was working tonight creeped me out. His gaze roamed my body whenever he saw me. My father dismissed my concerns, stating how no man would put his job on the line for a girl like me, meaning either my position as his daughter or the fact that in his eyes, I was overweight. But still, he’d come here if I called the emergency number. Or the police would, but that would set hares running and Father would be notified.

Plan better, Everly.

Okay. I breathed through my nose. Get upstairs, grab my phone, call the security creep, get dressed to meet him. I could do that.

I shifted my weight to set out. A material-covered hand slammed down on my mouth, covering it and my nose, blocking my ability to draw breath.

It muffled my shriek, too.

The intruder ran his other arm around my body and under my breasts then lifted me like I weighed nothing, carrying me into the pitch-black council chamber.

He adjusted his hold, and darkness threatened the edges of my vision, just like I’d wanted. Except for the fact I was in some stranger’s possession, and my worst fears had come true.

“Connor,” was my final strangled, silent word.

Right as a second man launched out of the shadows and I knew my life was over.