Page 27 of Bloody Bargain
“True, but I have never been inside one.”
My vision shook, pulse battering my sternum like my heart was trying to escape a prison riot. D’abel took advantage of my moment of shock and lifted my hand again, pressing it to his lower abdomen.
My breath stilled as blood thundered through my ears. I was speechless, wavering on my feet as D’abel pushed my fingers against a ridge of smooth scales lower between his hip bones. When he pushed, they separated in a horizontal line, revealing a seam.
“My ters is within, if ever my lady chooses to call upon her faithful servant.”
“Tessa,” I exhaled, unable to handle any more deep, poetic rumbling.I was burning from the inside, an ember in place of my heart, melting my convictions like candle wax that pooled between my legs. “I told you to stop calling me lady.”
“As you will it, mine Tessa.”
I closed my eyes, steadying myself by the hand on his groin. My name on his lips was worse. Was I flustered or frustrated? Confusion swelled in me, and so I ripped myself away as brazenly as a stuck bandage.
“I’m going to find food.”
I stalked into the hallway and, for the second time, shut the door in D’abel’s face.
10
I walked the street left of the cottage, a small pedestrian path with smooth, rounded cobblestones that demanded I keep my eyes glued to my feet. Owena had told me I couldn’t miss the village corner shop, and sure enough, I saw its sun-faded awning and a tiny lorry just large enough for a twin mattress a block after leaving D’abel to fend for himself.
I stopped dead in my tracks, staring wide-eyed at the stones. The impression of his scales haunted my fingertips. I couldn’t shake the sensation of him standing so close or the hiss in his chest that sounded bigger than a cavern. I…
Jolted back to the present and shoved my hands into my fleece pockets.
The side of the store was a metal rolling door where local produce and groceries spilled out into the two-car parking lot. I squeezed through the roughly-stapled farm crates and blue plastic jug bins, picked up a bucket for shopping, and made a beeline for the pegboard peppered with first-aid supplies.
There were cotton rounds, bandages, and aspirin. I took those, then searched the shelves for high proof alcohol, in lieu of a real antiseptic. Penderyn whisky would do the trick, being a high enough proof to use as hand sanitizer. It wasn’t great for deep wounds, but I’d use whatever I could get until I found a larger market.
Soon after, I had a few coveted microwavable dinners, four bottles of soda, a couple of easy-open cans of chicken, water crackers, cream cheese, and a tube of toothpaste.
All safe without the risk of a fiendish thrall. It’d been nearly a week since my last hot meal, and I was already salivating. Tea and protein bars could only hold me over for so long.
“Any fresh fruit, love?” the cashier asked as I counted my money. I blinked at her.
“Ah, no. Thanks.” I managed a smile as an afterthought, even though D’abel had scrambled my brain.
“By the looks of it, you could really use some. All this junk food!”
“We have some apples and things already. Thank you though. It all looks delicious.”
“And local.”
I smiled more sweetly, memorizing her face. The rustic red blonde curls, an aged but motherly heart-shaped forehead and chin. She had speckles on her cheeks, thin lips, and decent teeth. Her eyebrows were sparse, probably from plucking in the early ots, and her fingernails were painted an obnoxious, opaque salmon pink. She tapped her nose at me with a wink.
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly, stowing my change. “Next time, I promise.” Not that I would be back. For groceries, at least.
“Oh well. Can’t blame me for trying. See you later.”
“Ditto.”
I left, a paper bag cradled in my hands, and hoofed it back towards the bed and breakfast. It took effort not to look back, but I was sure the cashier was still watching me.
?
I didn’t return to the yellow suite right away, electing to make food in the shared kitchen first.
And yes, maybe I was avoiding private spaces with D’abel too.
