Page 34 of Born for Lace

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Most nights since I left the Half-tower, I dream of Maple’s silky brown strands parting as I comb through them. I would groom her, and she would tell me stories.

I miss my friend.

And yet, her comforting brown hair isn’t what I see tonight. During my moments of slumber, I’m brushing black hair, and when she turns her chin, it’s Sweets’ profile I see.

I wake to Spero fussing and crawl to the bottle. I mix the formula. It’s unusually quiet in The House; often, I would be cursed to hear bed-springs and groans, but not tonight.

Lagos wore them out.

I wonder if he is still down the corridor. My imagination slides through the narrow passage to the room. His huge, muscular body is sprawled across the bed, face down, forehead resting on his thick forearms. Two naked girls clinging to his firm body on either side, wet from sweat. Wonderfully satiated. They are safe, warm, tingling, and his for the night.

Uncontrolled, I moan.

Sweets’ words ring between my ears.‘He clearly doesn’t like you at all, Lace Girl.’Rejection stings me. Why? Because I’m inexperienced? Annoying? I made a mistake trusting the Endigo man!

Okay… I wish I didn’t care what that brute, Lagos, thinks of me, wish his disdain didn’t choke, but my body has a mind of its own. Chest tight, skin vibrating, heart sinking, biting jealousy— I care!

Playing with Spero’s lips until he sucks the bottle, I lie down with him propped beside me, holding the bottle with one hand.

My mind reels with the vision of Beauty’s face in sweet agony and Sweets’ awe toward his stamina. He likes them. They share a harsh existence. Find relief in each other. Find an escape. I want that. I’m just surviving, too, and I want something pleasurable in my lonely, scary new life.

The image of that man holding Sweets’ wrist in the lobby comes to mind. The way he hissed the word“bitch.”That image slides to one I made up, of her being held down, her wrist breaking as a man takes her with brutal force.

Not the same man.

‘He paid with his life.’

Probably at Lagos’ hand.

Or fists…

But no matter the situation my mind conjures, Sweets’ eyes are always level and proud. She is tough.

Besides finding my Ward poisoned in his bed, and worse, mere hours later watching Maple bleed to death, I have never experienced anything that might build that kind of resilience and strength.

What must she think of me? She probably believes I’m pathetically simple.

Am I?

I don’t want to be.

After caring for Spero, he falls asleep, but I stare at the dark ceiling, finding the quiet uncomfortable. Agitation over Lagos’ mean ways gathers in my stomach. Guilt and sorrow toward Sweets tighten my forehead. I wish I could do something to help her. I’m not a weak, fragile Lace Girl. I would have cut Lagos with my hacksaw that first day, and I ran away from a safe life, from Meaningful Purpose and all that I knew to protect someone else’s baby. Isn’t that character? Does that not hold any value to… I bite my lip at his name—Lagos.

Tomar sees more in me.

Maple did, too.

Soon, I’ll show him.

ChapterTen

Dahlia

I’ve been at The Bite for nearly two weeks, and this is the first opportunity I’ve had to approach Sweets without Spero tucked against my chest.

I want her to take me seriously, and I’m not sure I can do that with a babe at my chest, wriggling and fawning.

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