Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“You’ve been feeding me.” I look at her with new appreciation. “I wouldn’t think you’d do that.”
“Why?” she seems genuinely puzzled, her dark eyebrows rising.
“Because you’re … you’re Lady Dragonis, Valen’s—”
She laughs, a beautiful sound I realize I’ve never heard. It’s full-throated and tickles like cinnamon. “‘Lady Dragonis’? Where did you get that?”
“I don’t know.” My face heats as I feel myself wading deeper into my own mistaken assumptions. “I thought you and Valen were—”
“Valen is my sire. That’s all.” She’s still smiling, and it gives her a much more human appearance. “He turned me, but I’m not with him in that way.” She makes a face. “That would be—no, I won’t even think about it.”
“I’m sorry.” I lean against the counter behind me. “I didn’t realize.”
“It’s all right. I certainly would’ve disabused you of that notion sooner had I known.” She plucks the kettle from the fire right as it begins to sing. “Valen will have a good laugh when I tell him.”
“Valen laughs? Is that just when he’s kicking puppies or—”
She giggles. “He told me you were funny.”
“He did?” Now I’m curious.
She looks at me as she pours the hot water with utter precision. “I suppose it’s fair to say we don’t know him in the same way. I should probably leave it at that.”
She’s deft at avoiding my questions. I have to give her that.
“If you won’t tell me about him, tell me about you.”
“Milk, sugar, honey?” she asks.
“Yes?”
She cocks her head to the side in question.
“I’m not super familiar with all the ways of tea. Just fix it how you like it.” I wince. “I mean, how you used to like it, I guess.”
With preternatural quickness, she prepares the tea, then pushes through a door at the rear of the kitchen that leads to another hall—yet another area I don’t recall from my exploration. What the hell else have I missed?
She turns left into a doorway.
I follow her inside to find a cozy sitting area, and another door leads to what’s clearly a bedroom toward the back. “What’s this?”
“My apartments. I hope you don’t mind.” She places my full-to-the-brim teacup—of which she hasn’t spilled a drop—onto the table in front of a deep mauve sofa.
“Thanks.” I sit on the sofa and appreciate the room. It’s feminine, soft and warm with florals and a coat of white paint that obscures the black stone ceiling. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was sitting in a pretty Victorian house about to have a nice catch-up session with a girlfriend. But this couldn’t be farther from the truth.
I know Melody’s never been anything but kind to me, but I still don’t trust her. I can’t. Not when I’m a prisoner here.
She settles beside me, her lavender dress fanning out around her.
“You always dress so nice,” I blurt.
“How kind.” She glances down. “When Valen said we were moving in here, I told him in no uncertain terms that my entire wardrobe would be coming, or I would quit his company.”
I can’t imagine anyone giving Valen an ultimatum. He’s cold, dead inside. He’s a remorseless murderer, but she speaks of him almost fondly. It doesn’t match at all with the monster who holds me captive.
“You can always borrow anything you like,” she adds.
“Oh, no.” There’s no way in hell I could wear anything of hers. The colors, the form fitting tops and flowing skirts. I’m about five inches shorter than she is, not to mention I can’t match her ample curves. “But thank you.”
“If there’s anything you’d like to add to your closet, you can tell me. I did a little research on you—photos from before—and chose comfortable things,” she says without the slightest hint of reproach.
“I’m good.” I look at her with new appreciation—both because she seems to have stalked me and also because she picked out decently comfy clothes for me. “You’ve done a lot for me, and I’ve never thanked you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I know the situation isn’t exactly ideal.” She sighs and settles back against the cushion.
“That’s putting it mildly.” I take the teacup, spilling a little into the saucer as I bring it to my mouth. Sipping slowly, I appreciate the sweetness of the honey and the brightness of the tea.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” she asks gently. “What had you so spooked?”
I don’t want to tell her about my exploration of the lower levels, not if it means she’ll restrict me from looking any further. “Nothing. Just, um, this whole place isn’t exactly home sweet home.” The cup rattles against the saucer as I return it to the table. “But I will tell you one thing: Gorsky needs to back the fuck off.”
Her eyes sharpen, and I realize all over again that she’s a predator, same as Valen. “Did he harm you?”