Page 53 of Sadistic

It's covered in an extra layer of protection, like it's somehow more precious than the others. "Try this one."

The dress is different from the others.

Simpler in some ways, more complex in others.

The silk feels like water in my hands, the color not quite white, not quite ivory, but something in between that seems to shift in the light like moonbeams on snow.

"I designed this one last week," Greer admits as she helps me into it. "After I met you. I couldn't sleep, and I just... started sketching."

The dress settles over me like it was made for my body—which, I realize, it probably was.

She must have gotten my measurements from Doran, another tiny invasion of privacy I'm choosing not to think about.

It's elegant without being too much, sexy without being obvious.

The neckline shows just enough, the waist nips in perfectly, and the way it moves...

"Oh," Dalla says softly.

"Yeah," Rhiannon agrees. "That's the one."

I stare at my reflection, seeing a stranger, or maybe seeing myself for the first time.

This isn't Revna the college student or Revna the biker's daughter.

This is Revna Volkolv.

The name sits in my mind like a damn prophecy.

The thought should terrify me.

Instead, it feels... inevitable.

"You're crying," Mom says, and I realize she's right.

I touch my cheek, fingers coming away wet.

"Happy tears," I assure her, though I'm not entirely sure that's true.

They might be tears of grief for the life I'm leaving behind, or tears of fear for the life I'm starting.

"It's perfect," I whisper.

"You're perfect in it," Greer corrects. "There's a difference."

She circles me, making tiny adjustments, pinning here and there.

"The hem needs to come up half an inch. The bodice taken in just slightly. But essentially, this is it."

"How did you know?" I ask. "How did you create exactly what I didn't even know I wanted?"

"Because I see you," she says simply. "Not who you're trying to be or who others expect you to be. Just you."

A knock on the door interrupts the moment.

Room service with more champagne and enough food to feed an army.

Tiny sandwiches, fruit that looks too perfect to be real, chocolates that probably cost more per piece than I spend on lunch.

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