Page 9 of Deadmen's Queen

I didn’t move, and she reached over, grabbing my hair painfully, and dragging my face to her hand.

“I said, lick it off.”

I did, slowly licking away my vomit from her skin. The muscles in my core convulsed again and again, hurting my ribs, but there was nothing left to come up. She released my hair and stepped back.

“That’s better. Now, you’re covered. Take that off.” She gestured at my nightie, and with shaking hands, I pulled it over my head, leaving myself dressed only in my underwear.

“I’m going back to bed. I want this mess cleaned up now, and that nightie washed out. If I find anything out of place tomorrow, there will be consequences. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, mum.”

The door swung open, and I looked up to see Bast standing there, looking down at me. I scrambled to my feet, picking up my messed-up dungarees.

“I’m sorry, I can wash these if you give me a few minutes,” I said. Bast shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” he told me firmly. “And we have a laundry service, Paige. Pass them to me.”

I hesitated, but he held his hand out, so I rolled them up and handed them to him.

“And the top too,” he said.

I reached down for the hem, and pulled the top over my head, leaving me in just my bra and underwear. He took my top from me and set my clothes down by the door.

“Arms up,” he ordered, and pulled something black over my head. It was soft and huge, swamping me, but a faint scent drifted over my face, and I recognised Tristan immediately.

“It’s big, but Tris is the smallest of us all, so his was the best choice,” said Bast. I wrapped my arms around myself, enjoying the softness against my skin and Tristan’s scent was a surprising comfort. I looked up at Bast, he looked worried, and it made me feel warm inside. He was worried about me.

“The smallest, huh?” I asked, flicking my eyes down his body for a moment, before meeting his gaze again. My voice was still shaky, but I was trying.

Bast caught the innuendo, and grinned. “Definitely the smallest,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in close. I leaned against him, finding comfort in his arms. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone held me, or tried to comfort me, and I sighed as he ran his hand softly over my hair.

“What was that about back there?” he asked.

My eyes snapped back open, and I immediately tensed.

“What do you mean?”

“In the car.”

“I just… the idea of him being in the room made me so scared, I guess it made me sick.”

He reached down and tipped my chin up with his fingers, so I had to look up at him. “That’s completely understandable, but it’s not what I meant, Paige. The way you reacted afterwards about the car-”

“I’m so sorry about the car, I really am. I’ll go clean-” I started to pull away, but he held me tighter against him.

“Paige!” he snapped, and I froze. “I told you to stop apologising. I don’t care about the car. It’s a car, I can get it valeted.”

“But the cost…” I said, the old familiar panic flaring up inside at the questions he might ask. Don’t say anything, cover the bruises, don’t let them see, keep your mouth shut.

“Paige, my father is a billionaire. I could buy a flashy car every day of my life and still not run out of money in my trust fund, and I’ve been investing and building my own businesses since I was eighteen. A couple of hundred quid to get a car cleaned, is like you dropping a penny.”

I blinked up at him, unable to comprehend having that much wealth.

He sighed. “It doesn’t even matter. Paige, I could be penniless, and I still would care more about the fact you were clearly terrified by what happened in that car, than how much it would cost to clean.”

“I…” I trailed off, about to apologise again and not knowing what to say.

“Paige,” he said, holding my gaze steady. “Look at me.” His voice held a note of authority that compelled obedience, and I did as he commanded. He waited until he was sure he had my full attention before continuing.

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