Page 63 of The Monster of Hotel No. 7
She rolls her eyes, scoffing. “You are so boring, Sullen.” But she smiles a little as she says it, turning to the tree closest to her and squinting, as if she is sizing it up in the dim light. “You know the pink looks good, doesn’t it?” She glances at me with a smirk.
I can see her side profile, the way she is facing the tree, and my gaze flicks up and down her small curves in that black dress, but it’s the pink ribbon around her slender throat I fixate on.Yeah. The pink does look fucking good.
But before I can say anything at all, there are footfalls, confident and quick coming down the cobblestone path, barely audible over the downpour above us, but I am attuned to always be half-listening for someone coming.
Karia, though she lives a pampered sort of life, turns toward the sound, too, her back to me. The lace hem of her dress stops at her mid-thigh, and I am distracted for a moment by the slope of her legs, the curve of her calves. I’m surprised to see she is wearing black socks with white bows, and black Vans. This dinner is formal; it seems rebellious.
A smile fights its way onto my mouth at the same time a familiar voice cuts through the atrium.
“Karia. What are you doing?”
I flick my gaze up and see Antwine Ven staring atme,despite the fact he addressed his daughter.
My mouth goes dry, and I am suddenly, strangely aware of the dried blood along the top of my spine, the bright and irritating pain along my dermals.
Do you know about them,sir?
Antwine’s dark blue eyes seem to glow as another fork of lightning illuminates the sky above us.
“I’m decorating,” Karia says with a pout in her words; something I imagine she uses often on her parents.
I sense her glance over her shoulder at me, no doubt noting that’s precisely where her father is looking.
Antwine Ven has light brown hair, cropped close and contrasting his deep blue eyes. An angular face, wide eyes, tall and lean in an all-black suit, he both looks and doesn’t look at all like Karia. She takes after her mother more, but there is something in his haughtiness I think she has absorbed into her bloodstream.
“I don’t want to sit through the speeches,” she whines, and slowly, Antwine cuts his gaze to his daughter. His eyes soften marginally, but he casts another quick, distrustful glance to me.
“Yes, well, we all must do things we don’t want. Come along. Stein has asked where you are.” Again, he is looking at me.
Heat pours through my chest, curving around my back and flaring at the site of my wounds. Stein knows I am infatuated with her; perhaps he has told Antwine to keep an eye on me. Either way, the look in his eyes is nauseatingly familiar. It is what everyone greets me with:Wariness.
Karia clenches her fingers around the ribbons in her hands, a few black and pink tails drooping between her wrists, sagging with her annoyance. “And you’ve found me, so you can report back and tell him so.” Then she very deliberately turns her back on her father, drops the ribbons—all but one—and begins to slide it on the nearest branch, standing on her tiptoes to do so.
I am mesmerized by the way her calves flex, the faint veins visible along the backs of her knees. What would it feel like to lick them? To dig at them with a knife? I used to have my own, a weapon I kept close until Stein realized that’s precisely what it could be and that I might one day use it against him.
“Karia.” Antwine’s voice is harsh enough to make me flinch. It is the same tone Stein uses when I have tried to run from him.
Of course, I always fail, but… I clench my hands into fists and retract them from the pocket of my hoodie.
If Antwine even acts as if he might strike Karia in any way, I know I will choke him with one of those pink fucking ribbons.
But when I dart my gaze from her father to her, I see she is not the least bit scared of Antwine Ven.
Instead, she is plumping the ribbon, batting each loop together with her palms. It looks kind of stupid on the thin branch, pale pink set amongst the brown and green in the dim lighting of lamp posts, every other tree natural and naked, but when she takes a step back, goes down on her soles and folds her arms, she makes a noise of satisfaction. A sigh and a hum, both.
“You can’t tell me this doesn’t look so much better.” She glances over her shoulder to meet my gaze, ignoring her father completely. “Doesn’t it?”
It doesn’t. Not at all. But I am marveling over this strange relationship between them; how can she get away with so much? A part of me even wants to punish her for it. Have her on her knees as I grip her jaw and—
“Either I escort you back to the ballroom or I escort Sullen back to…” Antwine trails off, turning to face me, his eyes narrowed. “Wherever he is supposed to be.”
I don’t miss the subtle threat in his words, although none of the other members of Writhe—aside from Stein’s men—have ever touched me. And I expect Karia will not care at allwhereAntwine escorts me.
But shocking me, she sighs loudly, then squats down and heaves the rest of the ribbons in her arms, scooping them all up. “You both are so annoying. Leave Sullen alone; at least he watched in silence.” Then she glances at me once more, and where I expect to find amusement or annoyance etched onto her pretty face, I see something that looks and feels a lot like sadness.
My neck isstiff and there is something wet along the corner of my mouth. My legs are bent at a strange angle, and I can’t figure out how my body is occupying space. I shift one hand, only to find bare skin beneath my fingertips, warm and soft and certainly not mine.
I pop open my eyes.
