Page 5 of Dark Wishes

“Batillion? That amount isn’t real.”

“Neither is mycuriosityabout your taste in women."

“Bend over the sink.”

Freezing up, I clutch a hand to my chest and back up a step. “Wait, I can bleach my own hair. I don’t need help.”

“I don’t want any chemicals staining my floor. Bleach droplets are the first thing cops would look for.”

“Yeah, if they thought someone had been murdered here!” I laugh rudely. But Jamison doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t smile. My stomach begins to curl around in a hard ball. “Oh my god. Please don’t tell me you... here...”

His palm slaps lightly on the metal basin of the deep sink. “Put your head inside, Selena.”

I don’t budge; the lump in my throat won’t dissolve. “No, tell me first. Have you ever killed anyone in your house?”

Propping his weight onto the hand on the sink, he glares down at me with an unimpressed scowl. “I haven’t had a reason to.Yet.”

Finally choking the lump down, I walk up to the sink. My hands wind uneasily in the front of my shirt, pulling most of it out of the high waist of my skirt. “Fine, I’ll let you do it.”

“Thank you,” he sighs. Turning the silver knobs, he starts the water running, testing it with two fingers. It must be the right temperature because he shoots me an impatient squint.

Following his hint, I grip the edge of the basin and lower my head inside. The echo of the water colliding with the drain rings in my ears; my breathing sounds louder in this space. Metallic... fast paced.

His fingers sweep over the back of my skull, moving my hair into the water. My neck is exposed to him, vulnerable to any attack he chooses. The pad of his thumb rests on my jugular. He could strangle me... break my windpipe... toss me to the floor.

Any of those would be easier to accept than the gentle way he strokes my skin. The little hairs on the nape of my neck rise. They act like flowers in a field, his breath the sun, summoning them to bend towards him.

A fever sparks in my belly; I crush the basin, starting to stand. “You know, um, maybe you should let me do it myself, I’ve done it plenty of times and—”

“Relax.” It’s a command. I hate being told what to do. It’s one of my biggest flaws.

To my own surprise, I don’t push against him. I ease up the muscles in my shoulders and lean back into the sink. But my breathing isnotrelaxed, despite his demand. My chest presses against the counter rapidly with each nervous inhale through my nose.

Jamison works his fingers through my hair, making sure it’s thoroughly soaked. His hands vanish; I can’t see well, but I hear him digging in the cupboards below the sink. Something that sounds like a plastic garbage bag rustles. “What are you doing?” I ask nervously.

“Gloves.” He says it bluntly. Ofcoursehe needs gloves, he’s using bleach. But my mind is racing, wondering what else he keeps gloves around for. Has he used this batch to clean up a crime scene?

His shadow falls across me again, turning the inside of the sink pitch black. His presence is a warm weight just above. I tense, waiting for his hands again. Knowing they’re coming doesn’t keep me from flinching.

His laugh is all grit. “Nervous?” he asks.

“No,” I reply through pressed teeth.

“Keep your eyes shut. You don’t want to go blind.”

I squeeze them closed while he begins working something into my scalp. The scent is strong; bleach, mixed with something else. Dish soap? I focus on the acrid smell, using it to keep me from thinking about how luxurious Jamison’s long fingers feel as they rub through my hair.

His pressure is firm... constant. Every stroke is like he’s massaging my brain. I know these hands have killed. But right now, they’re making me giddy.It’s the bleach,I lie to myself. It can’t be him. I won’t allow it to be him.

Champagne bubbles flit through my blood. I press my knees together, then my thighs, clenching my muscles to try and stop my belly flutters.

“It’s working on you,” he rasps.

“What is?” I whimper.

He goes quiet, his hands no longer moving, before they rub again. “The bleach. What else would I mean?”

I messed up. He knows he’s having an effect on me.Of course he meant the fucking bleach was working on my pink dye.Fuck fuck fuck, why do I say such mindless shit?

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