Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
I slowly turned around, which was a mistake. He had on jeans, but that was it. His bare chest was still damp, droplets of water catching the light on his beautifully muscled pecs.
My stomach did the wave as I pretended not to notice. “I know you’re only staying a short while,” I rambled nervously, “but if you plan to buy groceries and want to cook, I can set aside space in the fridge and show you where everything is. You’ll have to clean up after yourself immediate—”
“I do not cook.”
“Oh.”
“If I am hungry, I will eat out. I only asked for coffee because you are here, and I wanted an excuse to speak with you.”
My heart raced faster. This man put every inch of me on edge. “Something wrong with the room?”
“Besides the lack of privacy, no.” He came closer. “I am wondering what more you know about this house. Have you found any records left by the previous owners? Any books, diaries, or objects?”
“No. Why?”
He rubbed the dark stubble on his chin, producing a bristly sound. “Do you recall when I said there are people looking for me?”
Honestly, I’d been trying not to think about it. It bothered me that I’d let him stay here.
I nodded.
“What if I told you I do not know why?” he said.
He had people after him, but he didn’t have a clue what they wanted? “I’d say most people know exactly what they’ve done.”
“You assume I’ve done something wrong, but I do not know these people, apart from the fact they held me prisoner for the last thirty years.”
I frowned, trying to work out his comment. He wasn’t much older than thirty, so that meant he’d been locked up his entire life? A little hard to believe. “And you only now got free?”
“More like I woke up from a very long sleep.”
I raised a brow. “Sounds…impossible.” Insane, actually.
“Yet somehow it happened, and I want to know why. Who would lock up an infant with the intent to keep him asleep until he dies of old age?”
My mouth flopped open for a moment while I attempted to figure out what he wanted to hear. His words were insane, and I suddenly didn’t feel very safe. Whatever irrational calmness I’d experienced earlier had disappeared.
“They won’t stop until they have me back in that basement,” he added, “where they will fill me with drugs again. My only reason for being here is to understand why.”
“The situation sounds very upsetting,” I said, trying not to set him off. “But can I ask what this has to do with the house? Or me?” Maybe I could figure out an angle to get him to leave. I’d give back his money if I had to, but I did not want him here. I never had, which only added to my confusion and fear since I’d let him in. Nothing made sense.
“I do not know how this house ties in,” he said. “Was hoping you could help with that. When I escaped my captors, I stole a large sum of cash from them. I used the funds to bribe a neighbor to let me stay with him until I built up my strength and, well, let’s just say I took the time to familiarize myself with the world. The real world. During those months, I began having dreams. Real dreams. They led here.”
A dream led him to my house? I stepped back. He had to know how crazy he sounded.
He added, “I’m not here to hurt you, Piper, but there must be a reason I kept dreaming of this place.”
Fuck if I knew. “Draco, your situation sounds…difficult.” And you sound crazy. “But I can’t help you, so I think it’s best if you just—”
“You are a historian, yes?” His gaze grew more intense.
So he’d looked into me. “I teach history, but I’m not—”
“Have you ever asked why you are drawn to ancient Greece, specifically the Minoans?”
A person didn’t need a reason to like what they liked. In this case, I found it fascinating how they knew things other cultures wouldn’t figure out for thousands of years. Even the Maya and Egyptians, who were masters of astrology and engineering, didn’t quite measure up during this time period. I often wondered if there had been more at play with the Minoans.
He continued, “What if I told you that I’d been held prisoner in Crete and that the entire time in captivity, I dreamed I was an archeologist digging up Minoan artifacts. And when I woke, I discovered that the people holding me captive had your last name. Spiros. What would you say to that?”
I would say that these were the ramblings of a madman, and that his reality was mixing with fantasy.
“Draco, I think you should go. I don’t feel comfortable having you in my—”