Page 24 of Dark Flame
“You want my last name, don’t you?”
“Not that bad.”
“Your life.”
“Again, I gave you permission to end that downstairs.”
Yes, and that permission made me uncomfortable.“You’re getting clean one way or the other.Howyou get into the shower is dependent on you in the next thirty seconds. Either you march your ass into the bathroom orIwash you.”
Sinclair scurries across the room like a little mouse and, with a final glare, enters the bathroom and slams the door shut.
“If you drown yourself, I’ll change you into a vampire myself as punishment,” I call out just loud enough she’ll be able to hear me between the thin wood.
Nowthere’san idea, especially if she keeps pissing me off. End the Sinclair line by turning her into one of us. Her ancestor will roll over in her grave—or wherever her coven placed her body. The cure would be no more, but the Sinclair bloodline will live on forever, suspended in time.
Maybe in the future when she’s outlived her worth.
Shutting my eyes, I focus on the sounds coming from behind the door. The shower switching on, her steps moving through the room, clothes hitting the tiled floor. The water loses its sharp pelts to softer ones as she steps beneath the spray, and her sigh is loud enough, it’s like she’s standing right beside me.
I watch the time tick away on my cell and after about seven minutes, the shower turns off. Another one, and her towel drops to the floor. My staff were instructed to hang the dress on the back of the door, so if I can guess, she’s retrieving it now.
Exactly at the fifteen-minute mark, the door opens again and the little Sinclair emerges, dressed in the gown I chose before retrieving her from the dungeon.
She looks up, that vibrant red hair dry as I’ve instructed, falling in a wavy curtain around her face. Her gaze no longer holds hatred, but curiosity.
What’s even more curious is the thought passing through my head. The one I’ll never dare admit, even to myself.
Exquisite.
Ten
HARLOW
The shower is purely otherworldly,a gift from the Goddess herself. At least, I’m pretending it is rather than a forced chore from the asshole vampire on the other side of the bathroom door.
A shower because Istink.
Yeah, well, no shit. Live in a cell and you would too.
I could very happily stay in here forever, but I’m getting the sense he’ll stick to his word and will come for me. So, too soon for my liking, I leave the hot water and dry off with a towel hanging on the nearby rack before heading for the garment bag on the back of the door.
I debated checking it out before my shower, curious to see what kind of horrendous outfit’s been chosen for me. No doubt something extremely revealing so all his “customers”—vampiric assholes, to use another nickname—will be able to see parts of me I’d rather they didn’t. All of me.Toomuch of me for what’s comfortable.
Comfortable. That’s a ridiculous notion in general, because none of this is comfortable. Rather, it’s the exact opposite. Like knives beneath my fingernails uncomfortable.
Hecate, help me get through this,I pray, crossing the space to the garment bag. At this point, who knows if She’s able to still hear me. I unzip the bag, expecting…not this.
My grip on my towel slips, and it falls to the floor, leaving me naked and gaping at the dress.
It’s floor-length, modest. Oddly modest. I reach up and pull it from the hanger, fingering the chiffon material and bodice decorated with the tiniest beads. It’s extremely extravagant, much more than anything I’ve ever worn, and not very modern. Which makes sense, given my captor is a vampire, but it also has me wondering whom he stole this from.
The time is ticking away, so I step into the dress, slipping my arms through the off-shoulder sleeves and pulling up the small zipper on the side.
How it fits so perfectly is a damn mystery. Unless he had this made for me… Nah, that’s too ridiculous to even consider.
Glancing towards the mirror, I’m taken aback by the reflection, but don’t remain for long, instead heading for the door, preparing for yet another round with the vampire.
He looks up as I return, and if I didn’t know better, I’d believe his eyes flashed red before returning to their flat black. He gazes at me for what feels like forever, his expression unreadable, chin on his hand. I fist the sides of the dress, ready for the torture to begin so I can return to my cell and plot escape plan number two.
