Page 97 of Cruel Master
Oh my God. He said the magic words. I know it’s ridiculous, but mad, giddy excitement grips me at the thought of a hot shower. A soft mattress. Am I really so easily bought?
Yes. Yes, I am. It’s probably just the aftermath of narrowly avoiding disaster, but my endorphins are popping like crazy. Hadrian is alive. He’s here—reallyhere, his true personality showing through at last.
He sets off toward the door, hand clutching mine, and I realize Iwantto follow. I want to see his home and curl up with him in bed. He’s not just my captor. He’s my Hadrian.
As we leave, I shoot a glance back at Candice and raise a hand. “Bye, Candice. Thanks again.”
She gives me a dazzling smile. “No problem. Don’t be a stranger.”
I still can’t decide if she’s amazing or terrifying.
We make a stop at a medical center, where a doctor and Ophelia check us over. It’s strange seeing Ophelia in a professional capacity, fully clothed and without a leash. She still wears her collar, though.
Hadrian catches me eyeing it and says loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll get you a collar of your own soon.”
Goddamn it, why does that make me squirm on the plastic waiting room chair? I glare at him, and he just smiles back as Ophelia and the doctor pretend they haven’t heard.
He seems elated, relaxed, and with a reckless edge that is totally new. Maybe almost dying a horrible, painful death has that effect on people, or maybe this is just how he is now. I’m not complaining.
Once the doctor declares us free to go, we set off, hand in hand, along the weirdly normal main street. Clouds cover the sun, and as if they’d been waiting for us to step outside, they open, dumping chilly rain onto us.
“Shit!” I stare down at my dress. My thin, white dress that is growing more see through with every passing second.
“It’s not far. Let’s run.”
Hadrian? Run? Maybe this guy is his evil twin after all.
He tugs my hand and sets off at a jog. Rain pelts us, and I squeal as it drives into my face, pretty much blinding me. I usually love a bit of atmospheric weather, but I was already chilly from the med center’s aggressive air conditioning. The sudden soaking has my teeth chattering.
Hadrian wraps his arm around my back, and we half run, half stumble through the storm until we reach a gray stone building. He slaps the entry plate—another biometric lock. Easy prey for any hyper-intelligent AIs that might want the door open—and we rush inside, dripping onto the marble tiles.
By the time the elevator takes us to Hadrian’s floor, I’m shivering. Charlie’s tank waits just outside his door—some poor staff member must have been tasked with spider delivery—and he lets me go to scoop it up. He opens the door and…wow.
Hadrian has changed in many ways, but his sense of style doesn’t look to be one of them.
He never lived alone whilst we were together. He went straight from his family home to living with me at college, and I always used to tease him about how boring a house decorated by him would be. I wasn’t wrong. It barely looks lived in. It’s as if someone took a photo of one of those apartments businessmen rent for the week when they’re travelling and said, “Like this, please.”
It’s all gray and cream. The art on the walls provides the only splashes of color, but it’s as generically inoffensive as possible. An artsy photo of a red British post box. Another of what looks like a hummingbird landing on a branch dripping with water.
We pause on the threshold, and I clear my throat. “It’s…uh…nice.”
“It’s dull, but I’m not worried. You’ll fix that. Now, I’ll run us a hot bath. And take that dress off. You don’t do clothes in here unless I allow it. And I’m not allowing it.”
With that, he sets Charlie’s tank on the table and strides toward what I can only assume is the bathroom.
I’m not allowing it.
Bossy.
I don’t know why his confidence is spinning me out so much more now than it did in my cell. Maybe becausethatHadrian still felt like a stranger, but now he feels like himself. A much more demanding self who knows exactly what to say to heat me up despite my chilled skin.
No clothes allowed? That was always a fantasy of mine. I’ve been living it for weeks in the cell, of course, but it wasn’t the same. Everything was so insane that being naked was the least of my worries. In this very sensible apartment, though, walkingaround naked, doing normal things while Hadrian is fully clothed?
It really shouldn’t sound as good as it does.
I pull off the soggy dress just as Hadrian calls, “The bath is ready.”
Nothing has ever sounded better. I follow his voice through the apartment—it’s as large as mine—and stop and stare when I reach the bathroom. Holy shit. Steam rises in curls from a deep, clawfoot corner tub. I revise my opinion of whoever furnished this place. This bath would make up for every piece of boring artwork in the world.
