Page 26 of Firedrake Betrayal
“Right. You were too busy kidnapping me and running away at the time.” The back of my eyelids prickle when I think of Dad dying.
Once again, my eyes settle on the heaving New York streets, and once again, it’s almost too much to take in. But if I keep looking at Dominik, I’m tempted to strangle him.
Where are all these people going in a hurry?
“Jade?” A finger glides along the back of my shoulder.
I scoot away from him, to the point I’m practically hugging the door. “Don’t touch me.”
“I did what was best, Jade.”
“For you,” I say. “You did what was bestfor you.”
We continue the—thankfully—short drive in silence.
In minutes, the car slows in front of a glass fronted boutique. There’s no sign outside. Apparently, a store so fancy that it doesn’t even need a name.
A woman with sleek blonde hair in a low bun and a white pencil dress pops into sight as the driver opens my door.
I step out and nearly climb back in again when floral perfume, spicy meat from a food truck, and the rancid scent of something rotting in a nearby sewer batters me from all sides.
I’m used to Chicago.
No. I’m used to the silence and the isolation of an attic. Before that, the apartment I shared with Dad.
I back up.
Dominik’s palm flattens on the base of my spine. “No one will touch you.”
I look up at him. “Youare touching me.”
“To keep you safe.”
Seemingly without effort, he says something that makes me want to kick him, distracting me from a world that still terrifies me.
Thanks, Dad, if you’re still alive, for a fear I don’t know if I’ll ever overcome.
“Who will keep me safe from you?” I ask.
A gust of wind makes me shiver.
Dominik sweeps his coat off his shoulder and around mine before guiding me forward. “You have me. You need no one else.”
He leads the way into the blindingly white store with its silver garment racks lining the perimeter of the room. I hadn’t believed expensive had a smell. This store does. It smells clean, and a little like fresh leather.
The woman closes the door behind us immediately, as if she’s afraid someone else will follow us in. She even locks the door to ensure that won’t happen. It looks like we’ll be the only ones shopping tonight. “Mr. Alarik. A pleasure.”
Twenty years playing a feral man in a collector’s cell, and there’s not a hint or trace of it in Dominik’s crisply delivered orders.
“She needs clothing for every occasion. Shoes, undergarments, bags,everything.”
The woman’s eyes slide toward me. “And will there be a budget, Mr. Alarik?”
“No budget.” The hand on my lower back doesn’t move, even when I take a small step to the side. It is a persistent thing. Almost as persistent as the man who rakes his eyes over the rails and nods at a white couch in the dressing room. “You can bring me something to drink while my wife tries the clothes on.”
There’s that word again.Wife. Does he think if he repeats it often enough that I will accept it? I bristle. “I am not your?—”
“This dress would look beautiful on you.” Dominik talks right over me as he walks away to pull a silver sequin dress from a rack.
