Page 17 of Dormeo
The tension is so high in the room, anger is pouring off him in waves, making the atmosphere in the room cloying and heavy.
Unable to keep my mouth shut and endure this awkward silence any longer, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind.
“Tough workout?” I ask, hoping some mindless small talk might bring him out of his sour humour. Taking a chance, I step closer to the couch where Barghest is now sprawled out, head resting on a black velvet cushion, with his tongue lolling out to the side.
“You could say that.” Ash sneers, finally lifting his eyes to give me a sharp look. He’s not in the mood for chit-chat.
As he toes off his boots and stows them on a rack near the door, I notice that his feet are black, nails black, five toes just likeme. I don't know what I expected, whether I thought they'd be different, hooves maybe, but they're strikingly human.
I stare in fascination as he continues to move around, pouring himself a glass of water and staring out the window in silence at the night sky. He’s behaving just like any other man, uninterested in me, as he turns and strides toward the bathroom.
I feel like the one night stand he’s disappointed to find is still hanging around. Except he specifically told me not to set foot outside the door, so I’m stuck here.
“I never thought about whether you'd exercise in hell,” I comment inanely. “It seems rather… boring.”
Ash stands up to his full height and looks at me like I'm the stupidest person he's ever met.
“It's not the kind of workout that one does for fun, little human,” he says condescendingly.
Despite knowing that I shouldn't risk irritating this man, I give a little huff and tip my chin up slightly, allowing my gaze to travel over his sculpted muscles.
“Well, you sure look like you worked up a sweat,” I say with a nonchalant shrug.
There’s no way I’m letting him know how much his attitude bothers me. Do I want him to think me clever? To engage me in conversation?
Am I that lonely and desperate?
Ash gives me a hard assessing look and continues into the bathroom, pulling a towel off a rail as he passes.
A white fluffy towel. In his hands, it looks absurd. It’s quite possibly the only non-black item in his entire residence.
Ash moves closer to me, stalking me like a deadly predator, probably because he is one. His eyes never once leave my face, trapping me in his gaze, until he's just a foot away from me.
I get a blast of his intoxicating scent and feel the heat radiating from him. Suddenly, I feel all hot and bothered with this big hulking man looming over me.
“Remember where you are, Rose. This is not a safe place for you, or for anyone, with the misfortune to land themselves here.” Another smell hits my nose, and I'm struggling to place it when Ash grips my hand around the wrist and pulls my arm toward him. “You are here because of your father’s cowardly act, so you are granted protection. But those who deserve their place here… well, they don’t get such favourable treatment.”
He uses his hold on me to force the towel into my hand, then controls my movements, wiping the cloth down his gleaming chest, mopping up the sweat that clings to him.
Butterflies dance within my stomach, delighted for this excuse to touch him. I’ve never seen a man’s chest this close up before, and for some reason, I want to touch him, not with the towel, but with my own skin. I want to feel those tight muscles beneath my soft palm. I want to know whether his skin is soft like mine, or harder and leatherier like it looks.
But those lust filled thoughts flee my mind when the towel comes away, covered in bright red marks. I blink hard and look up into his russet eyes.
Then it hits me what the other scent I can detect is. It’s the coppery tang of blood.
Ash stands before me, powerful and dominant, watching with interest as the realisation hits me. He’s uninjured. This blood is not his.
“Oh God,” I whisper, yanking my hand away and loosening my grip on the towel.
Ash lets me, with an amused smirk on his face, enjoying my shock.
“Are they alive? Oh God, what did you do?”
The words tumble from my lips as I take two steps back, staring at the bloodied towel as Ash picks it up, continuing to wipe it over his body until it's nothing more than a ball of red. You would never know it was a white towel before he got his hands on it.
Fear clutches my chest. I say nothing, despite the urge to scream and run that’s bubbling up inside me. I know it will do me no good. I need to stay calm.
“The man whose blood I'm wearing murdered two people for no reason. No motive, no remorse. Just wanted to see what it would feel like.” Ash raises an eyebrow. “Would you prefer that he's left to his own devices, or do you agree that he gets sent here to suffer in the same way his victims did?”
