Page 9 of Change
Chapter Three
Bianca
Little
I woke up with blood on my sheets.
The destruction of my precious property was, at first, overshadowed by the crippling cramps that had me curled into a ball. However, the pain I was fairly used to—although as the memory faded in between cycles, sometimes the reminder still took my breath away.
But it was the ruin of the thousand-thread-count baby pink sheets, which Titus had special ordered for me, that made me wince.
“I hate being a girl,” I moaned into my pillow, thanking my lucky stars that I’d remembered to stock up on my womanly supplies in preparation for this inevitability. Was it true that we could have chosen to be born into our current forms? If so, then why would Mu make such a stupid decision?
There was nothing fun about this at all.
“Bianca.” Damen knocked at my door, and his usual morning wake-up call caused a ripple of panic to rush through me. I sat up, hugging the blanket as I stared at the closed door in terror. “Are you awake? We’ll have to get going soon.”
“Yes!” I half screamed, half squealed my response as I reflexively pulled the blankets to my chin. “It’s fine, don’t come in!”
There was a short pause, then, “I wasn’tgoingto come in.” His voice was laced with suspicion, I could practically feel his scrutiny. “But why?”
What a liar—he came ineverymorning, being all flamboyant and cheerful. There’d be no reason why today he’d chosen differently. “No reason.” My answer wasn’t even convincing tome. “Just stay out.”
I could visualize the doubt passing over his freshly scrubbed, chiseled face. He’d frown ever so deeply, and his eyes would glitter in suspicion, and he’d totally not be able to contain that nosy part of him that wanted to go, “What’s ‘fine’? What’s going on?”
The doorknob twisted and my heart leapt into my throat.
“Don’t worry about it.” I moved to jump from the bed, to make it to the door before he could finish opening it, but only managed to crash onto the floor—blankets coming with me—as my foot twisted in the sheet.
I rolled over, trying to get up, but only managed to trap myself further in a blanket burrito.
“What was that sound?”
I watched from my newly acquired, upside-down position as Damen, without so much as an official welcome, pushed open my bedroom door and strolled into the room like he owned the place.
Which he technically did, but that wasn’t the point.
The pointwasI was currently vulnerable and frumpy. And, of course he’d look impeccable in his fancy suit and freshly groomed hair while I was a blood-covered, smothered mess on the floor.
“Bianca, you…" He surveyed the room, then, finally, his focus landed on me, sprawled out on the floor. His features softened and his eyebrow raised curiously. “What in the world are you doing, baby girl?” he asked, crouching on the floor in front of me. “If you wanted me to buy you a sleeping bag, you could have just asked. Are you planning another slumber party?”
“I don’t want a sleeping bag!” I snapped. It was probably an overreaction, but I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not—that too-bright smile on top of everything else was making me irritable. “I’m stuck.”
Damen’s mirth faded and he frowned at me, taking in my expression. Then, to my utmost horror, he slowly moved his attention to my bed, where the evidence I had momentarily forgotten lay.
Don’t look! I wanted to scream, but of course, my voice remained frozen in humiliation.
His brows drew together, and his frown deepened. I hoped that this was the part where he’d run away.
But he didn’t.
“Wait here,” he told me—as if I could go anywhere—then he got to his feet, brushed off his knees, then slipped from the room without another word.
I wanted to scream after him—had he not noticed that I was trapped? But there was no use being annoyed with him. My energy was better left spent twisting around on the floor, squirming for freedom.
I’d managed to roll onto my stomach by the time he returned, and I craned my face up, pressing my chin into the thick carpet as I watched him. He was carrying fresh sheets and two folded towels, along with a few more things I couldn’t quite see from my current position.
He put the items into a pile on the floor and dropped to his knees beside me. “Here,” he said, shoving a piece of chocolate into my mouth before I could even protest. Then, as I chewed the sweet in stunned silence, he helped me sit upright onto my folded knees, and untwisted the sheet holding me prisoner.
