The bright light made Lenina wince. She squeezed her eyes shut. Cried out. Rolled left and, just before toppling, felt hands around her waist, pulling her back from the edge.
She struck out with both fists, flailing and kicking. ‘No, let go!’
‘Nina, whoa. Stop, it’s me!’
Several seconds passed before Lenina recognised the voice. When she did, she froze and peered over her shoulder.
Nick lay on the bed beside her, wrinkles of worry slashed across his forehead. The bruise forming on his left cheek gave him the appearance of a blond, lopsided Quasimodo.
‘What happened? Where did the guy go?’
‘Shh.’ He pressed her shoulders against the sheets. ‘Calm down. Sit for a second. We’re home.’
‘But how? We were in the park. That guy— he attacked you. You were screaming.’
‘Me? No, babe. Not me.’
‘Someone was screaming.’ Lenina put her hands to her head, picking at the tattered shreds of her memory.
There was no battle. No sandy city covered by a pallor of smoke.
Instead a familiar room, filled with the comforting scents of deodorant and cocoa butter. Soft ticking from the Dali-style clock above the bed. CDs on shelves. Clothes on the floor. A wine glass with a ruby red smudge around the rim. Soft sheets of Egyptian cotton rustled beneath her hands. She clutched them, rubbed the softness between her fingers.
Nick watched. ‘Better?’
‘There was a man. I saw him— no, I was him. He was looking for Cleopatra. Or I was.’
He sighed. ‘I’m calling the hospital. I think you hit your head. Wait here.’
‘Don’t leave me!’ She grabbed his arm, burying her head against his chest, fighting for the familiar smell of his body. Instead she found cold patches of damp, sticky blood. She shrank back with a cry.
‘Babe, calm down.’
‘Blood. It’s all over you. You’re bleeding.’
‘I’m not, promise. It got on my clothes when I carried you home.’
‘I’m bleeding?’ She tensed.
‘You were. Please sit still. I don’t know how much blood you lost, but you need to calm down. Now you’re awake I can get the first aid kit.’
She grasped his hand. Hers trembled. ‘Don’t go.’
He hugged her. ‘I won’t. Never. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.’
Lenina clutched him, listening to the steady thud of his heartbeat through the warmth of his chest. When she pulled back, his shirt stuck to her cheek. Pulling it free brought a hiss from her lips. ‘He cut my face,’ she whispered.
‘And your neck. You sure you don’t want the hospital?’
‘I don’t want to, Nick. They’ll keep me in and I won’t be able to see you. I want to stay with you. What happened?’
‘When I found you on the park that guy was—’ he gritted his teeth. ‘It’s really muddled. You were lying there, staring at the sky like you were hypnotised. I punched him. He hit me back. I blacked out. I think.’ He ruffled a hand through his hair. ‘When I woke up there was blood everywhere and he was lying on you. Kissing your neck. I thought—’ he lowered his head.
Lenina saw tears shining in his eyes. ‘Nick . . .’
‘I told you not to go through the park. Why did you do that?’
Lenina hugged herself. ‘I didn’t know he followed me.’
Nick’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’d seen him before? Christ, babe, what is it with you? What are you trying to prove?’
‘Nothing. I didn’t want you to worry. I thought he was gone.’
‘So you thought you’d sweep it under the carpet and it would all go away?’
Her eyes burned with the threat of tears. ‘Please don’t shout at me.’
The frown deepened, lit by angry fire. ‘He tried to rape you.’
Though the word ‘rape’ made her stomach writhe, it didn’t feel right. Memories of the last few hours returned in snatches but in none of them did she fear for anything but her life. And perhaps her sanity.
Then she remembered the solid press of an erection against her leg.
She chewed her bottom lip to stop it wobbling. ‘I’m sorry.’
He stroked her face. ‘I was so scared. What if he’d really hurt you?’
‘You got there in time.’
‘Barely.’ He leaned over, tugging her into a hug and burying his face in her hair. ‘Ek het jou lief,’ he whispered. ‘So much.’
Lenina gave a tiny smile. ‘I love you too.’
Nick kissed her forehead. Glanced at his watch. ‘The police said they’d send someone over half an hour ago. Where are they?’
‘You didn’t need to call them.’
‘Of course I did. What about everyone else? What if this guy kills someone?’
Lenina gazed at her fingers, noting her nail varnish had chipped in several places. ‘I just want to forget about it.’
‘We can’t do that. You must realise that. The guy knew my name. What if he’s been watching us? What if he comes back?’
Her fingers trembled. ‘But won’t they want to talk to me? Like an interview? I’m not up to that— I’m a mess. My hair is a wreck. I need a shower. I stink—’
‘They don’t care how you look, babe. They’ll want to know what happened. Let me check the front door.’ He walked out.
Lenina leaned back on the bed, gnawing the end of her thumbnail.
Alone, she had time to take stock of her body. The mirror above the dresser helped her do so.
Blood formed crusty patches on her face and neck. The right side of her throat bulged with thick layers of crimson, still wet in places. Knowing her manicure was ruined, she scraped at her cheek, picking until she found the skin beneath. Red raw and ugly, the slender scratch started near her ear and ended in the crease of her nostril.
She whimpered and closed her eyes.
The ginger stranger flashed beneath her closed lids, face pinched with pleasure. She heard the grunt from deep in his throat and the stench of stale cigarettes clinging to his filthy clothes.
Her eyes flashed open. ‘Nick!’
‘What? What’s wrong?’ He dashed back into the room still holding his mobile.
Lenina sagged against the dresser. Her knees trembled. A great weight filled her chest as she remembered. As the true horror of that night penetrated her shock. ‘He attacked me,’ she whispered. ‘I could have died.’
‘It’s okay, babe.’ Nick dropped the phone and pulled her against him.
‘What if he’d hurt you? It would be my fault. I can’t even remember what he did. Everything’s foggy and distant. What if he did do something to me? What if he—?’
‘You had all your clothes on. I arrived in time, remember?’
Lenina couldn’t shake the nagging sensation that Nick was wrong. She stared into his eyes, seeking comfort in the familiar blue.
‘The police told me since we’re home and no one was hurt, it isn’t an urgent case. Someone will be over to take a statement soon.’ The tight emphasis on ‘soon’ made clear how he felt.
She picked at her clothes. Ran her fingers through her bloodied braids. ‘I’m gross. Blood . . . grass . . . I need a shower. Come with me?’
He arched an eyebrow.
‘It’s faster together. And I don’t want to be alone. Please, Nick.’
‘Sure.’ He took her hand and towed her into the bathroom.