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Back Cold as Hell Save as PDF
Chapters (115)
  1. COLD AS HELL
  2. PRONUNCIATION GUIDE
  3. CONTENTS
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. 92
  96. 93
  97. 94
  98. 95
  99. 96
  100. 97
  101. 98
  102. 99
  103. 100
  104. 101
  105. 102
  106. 103
  107. 104
  108. 105
  109. 106
  110. 107
  111. 108
  112. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  113. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  114. ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
  115. COPYRIGHT

She saw red. She lifted one foot so that her knee came up to her belly, and put her weight behind it as she stamped the heel down hard on the man’s instep. She was sure she felt something crack beneath her heel, and judging by the whine as the man collapsed to the floor of the lift, he was in real pain. Áróra stepped quickly towards the buttons and set the lift moving again.

‘What the fuck is it to do with me how horny you are?’ she said as the lift door opened and she jumped out, scuttling along the corridor towards her room. She didn’t look around until she was at her door, searching in her handbag for the key, but to her relief, the corridor was empty and the man was nowhere to be seen.

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Áróra leaned her back against the door, her breaths coming in short, fast gasps as she waited. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was waiting for – the man in the lift to pursue her and try to get into the room, or some kind of reassurance that she was alone and safe.

When her breathing had steadied, she slid the chain into place and pushed one of the two bedside tables against the door. It wouldn’t be a great deal of use if someone were determined to get in, but it helped make her feel more secure. Once she had done all this, she felt better, and was thankful that she hadn’t hesitated to break the man’s instep. To hesitate was to fail. This guy wasn’t the type to take notice of a courteous no.

In the bathroom she turned on the water in the shower, and as it began to flow she smiled as she reflected on her panic. Tomorrow she would laugh at herself for having shoved a bedside table against the door. But that was the outcome of violence: consolidating strength. Not that she considered herself a violent person. She would never lash out other than in self-defence, but when it was needed she didn’t pull her punches – landing a hard punch in a delicate spot could be the difference between becoming a victim or a survivor.

Under the shower she breathed in the sulphur smell of the water and, to her surprise, this time it didn’t get on her nerves. Her father’s voice, telling her that ‘you get used to the smell after two or three days’ came to mind, and although she had come here with the intention of flying back as soon as possible, now she could see herself staying long enough to stop noticing the hot water’s rotten-egg scent. At any rate, she’d stay long enough to find out where Ísafold had hidden herself. She towelled herself dry and slipped under the duvet, pulling it over her.37