Game of Thrones (Amica and Deckard) novel Chapter 3

3

Amica.

I wake with a sharp gasp, snapping my head left, then right. This isn't my room.

I blink rapidly, trying to ground myself, but nothing here is familiar—the bed, the furniture, even the air is different. It's not Iron Claw.

I push the sheets off me, throwing them aside in a rush until my feet hits the floor—it is harder than I expect. I leap out. Almost immediately, I begin to pace the room, desperately searching for something—anything—that makes sense. My eyes catch on a small clock whose numbers are glaring back at me, confirming my fears.

Six hours. I was asleep for six hours!

Dane... Did he really leave me here?

No, it can't be true. It can’t. My breath comes faster, my chest tightens as I spin, looking frantically for a way out of this strange room. Tears sting my eyes, wetting my cheeks despite my will to hold them back and think of a way out. I dash past corridors—there must be a way. The hallway of the bedroom stretches endlessly, every turn leads to another unfamiliar space. Where’s the damn exit?

Suddenly, I stop—staring at my reflection in a mirror at one of the rooms. My breath hitches again. There it is. The bite. Deep and dark, etched into my skin like a curse. I gasp, my trembling fingers reaches up to trace it. How...? Why?

Why did he do this to me?

"Ezra?" I call out, shaking, desperate for answers from my wolf.

“Ezra!?” I yell, this time around but she doesn’t respond.

“I know you can hear me.” I whisper, more to myself, than to her.

Still, she disregards me.

I bolt from the room which seems to be a walk-in closet. I begin to scramble away and finally, at the end of the bedroom, there is a larger door—an exit. I throw it open, into a main hallway. The space stretches before me, lined with multiple doors leading to more unknown rooms. I pause, biting my lip, thinking.

I can't use the front door. The gammas—I saw them earlier. They’d catch me in an instant if I were to make a run for it like that. No. I need another way out.

One by one, I begin to open the doors in the hallway, searching for something—a large window, a gap, an exit—anything that could lead me out. My hands tremble as I turn each handle but they do not reveal anything nothing useful. Until—there. A window. Large enough to slip through.

I enter into the room and I rush to the window. The cool glass presses against my fingers as I peer outside, desperate for an escape. But when I look down, my stomach drops. There’s nothing to stand on, no ledge, no foothold—just an endless drop. I’m in some sort of mansion tower, far higher than I’d imagined. This place, this Bloodbane house, is more massive than any mansion I’ve ever seen.

I scan the surroundings frantically, until my eyes catch on something—off to the left, there is a huge tree growing close to the outer wall. It’s thick branches look sturdy enough to climb. If I could just get to a window closer to it, I might have a chance.

Night cloaks the world outside, offering some cover. The gammas won’t spot me easily in the dark. With that thought, I tear myself away from the window and rush out of what appears to be a receiving area. The space smells of mint and leather, but I barely register it.

As I step into the muted corridor, I pause. It’s faint at first, but with each step, it grows clearer—moaning. The unmistakable sounds of intimacy.

“Ah, yes… take me…”

A woman's voice cuts through the silence. Next, it is followed by deep, guttural groans from a man. I freeze, horrified, my body instinctively presses against the wall. I am filled with curiosity—or is it panic—one of those pushes me forward. I inch closer, peering through the slightly ajar door.

Inside, I see her—straddling him. Her body moves in a slow, grinding rhythm over him, her head thrown back, moaning in ecstasy. His hands grip her thighs, his eyes shut as she rides him.

I gasp, too loudly.

The man’s eyes snap open, and for a second, everything stops. It is him, Deckard! Panic floods through me, and before I know it, I’m sprinting away, as fast as my legs will carry me.

As quickly as a second, I can feel him close behind. Just knowing that he is somewhere behind makes the hairs on my neck rise. Before I can take another step, Deckard’s hand latches onto me—stronger than anything I have ever felt.

I freeze, staring up at him, wondering how the hell he caught me so fast. How did he manage to put on his pants in such seconds?

“Don’t—don’t touch me,” I whimper, stepping back. He runs a hand through his tousled hair, devoid of any real emotion.

“Do not be dismayed,” he says with a grim edge to his voice. “We haven’t even started…”

Am I supposed to feel better that he and the woman in the room didn’t begin their acts yet?