Page 27 of Beast of Blood and Roses
Shower, I thought, gripping the bundle tightly to my chest. That’s what I need. And maybe a glass of wine.
Maybe then, finally, I could sleep.
I clutched the underwear and pajamas tightly to my chest as I limped toward the bathroom. Each step sent dull aches pulsing through my muscles, but I was too exhausted to care. I just needed to feel clean—to feel human—again.
I returned to the elaborate bathroom, still amazed by the luxury of this strange, enchanted mansion. A white marble countertop stretched along one wall with two elegant sinks, their silver faucets shaped like roses frozen in bloom. The lighting overhead was soft and warm, casting a golden glow over the polished surfaces. A sunken tub rested beneath a bay window, large enough to swim in, with jets nestled around the rim like tiny, waiting whispers. To the right was a glass shower—twice the size of the one back home—with a rainfall head and built-in shelves already stocked with soap, shampoo, and soft, lavender-scented towels.
I laid the clothes gently on the counter, smoothing the pajamas out with trembling fingers before peeling off my torn dress. The fabric slipped from my shoulders and pooled at my feet like a memory I didn’t want to hold onto. I hesitated at theunderwear, but the elastic had stretched and frayed beyond repair.
Right now, I needed something clean. Something untouched.
I stepped in front of the mirror and staggered back a step.
Ugly purple and black bruises bloomed across my skin like inkblots—across my arms, my ribs, even the tops of my thighs. I looked like I had turned into some wild creature, mottled and marred. Thin red scratches laced across my legs and even my palms, angry reminders of the stick that had been torn from my hands during the struggle. A fresh wave of pain flared in my chest as I adjusted the bandage there, checking to make sure it hadn’t shifted.
The deep claw marks were hidden beneath medical tape and waterproof bandages, but I could still feel them, aching and hot beneath the protection. I swallowed hard and looked away from the mirror.
There would be time to process all of it later. The bruises. The wolves. The beast.
Right now…I just needed to wash the blood and fear off my skin.
Steam quickly filled the bathroom, curling along the edges of the mirror and turning the air warm and hazy. The tension in my shoulders began to loosen as I stepped into the oversized shower. I’d heard of rain showers before, but I’d never actually experienced one, not outside of books or overheard conversations in town.
This…this was like stepping into heaven.
Droplets fell from the ceiling in a gentle cascade, warm and soft like summer rain. The water kissed my skin instead of pelting it, each drop soothing the ache buried deep in my bones.I didn’t feel like I was being punished by the world just for existing.
On a built-in shelf, I spotted bottles of lavender-scented shower gel, shampoo, and conditioner, all neatly arranged, all full. My chest tightened at the thought. Colette must have placed them here, I realized, blinking back a sudden sting behind my eyes. Another quiet kindness.
Ignoring the dull throb radiating through my ribs and shoulders, I lathered my hair until it squeaked beneath my fingers, then smoothed the conditioner through the strands until they slipped like silk between my hands. I scrubbed my skin next, letting the warm water carry away the bayou’s filth—the swampy residue of fear, blood, and sweat.
By the time I stepped out of the shower, the mirror had completely fogged over. I reached for a fluffy white towel hanging nearby and sank into its softness with a sigh. It was thick, luxurious, so different from the threadbare ones we had at home that barely dried anything.
I padded across the tile floor and stood at the counter, my skin still tingling from the heat. I threaded my fingers through my wet hair, tugging gently at the knots. Blow drying it always turned it into a frizzy mess, and curling it was pointless. My hair had a mind of its own and no amount of heat ever changed that.
Beside the sink, a set of more lavender-scented products caught my eye: cleanser, moisturizer, and a bottle of lotion with gold filigree on the label. I touched each one like they might vanish; they were all too elegant, too extravagant for someone like me, but I couldn’t resist. For once, I wanted to feel pampered.
Carefully, I rubbed lotion into my arms and legs, wincing as I passed over the worst bruises and the deep scratches along mysides. My skin drank in the moisture like it had been starved, every inch dry and rough from days of neglect. I was dry as parchment.
Finally, I washed my face. The water was cool, the cleanser soft and floral. The scratches on my cheek stung sharply as I rinsed, but I didn’t care.
For what felt like the first time in forever, I felt like a whole person again. Not a girl lost in someone else’s story. Not a prisoner. Not prey.
Just…me.
I slipped the nightshirt over my head, the fabric sliding across my skin like water. It was so soft it almost felt unreal, luxurious in a way nothing I’d ever owned had been. The matching shorts hugged my hips with a gentle, perfect fit.
I stared at my reflection, feeling strange in something so...nice. Like I’d stepped into someone else’s life.
Opening the bathroom door, a cloud of steam billowed out around me, curling into the cooler air of the bedroom. I winced. Great, I thought. Hopefully that doesn’t set off some ancient magical fire alarm.
I padded over to the clothing rack, my damp hair dripping down my back, and scanned the lower shelf. There, tucked neatly near one of the boxes, was a pair of white, fuzzy UGG slippers.
I reached out, heart stuttering
Real UGGs. The kind I used to stare at in storefronts, the kind I’d never been able to afford.
I slid my feet into them slowly, reverently, like they might vanish if I moved too fast.
