Page 23 of Their Pretty Little Monster

Eight

SAGE

“You have time,” I whisper to myself, trying to calm my speeding pulse with the knowledge that one day back home equates to a month here. In that span, so much can change, especially now that the Viscount—who is far more monster than leader—has claimed me as his bride.

A bead of sweat trickles down my back at how quickly everything’s happened.

The room I’m given is designed to distract, to awe, and damn him, it’s sort of working.

My gaze is drawn irresistibly to the large, circular bed with thick blankets of a muted bluish color. Behind it, the wall morphs into a three-dimensional painted image of a rocky bay under a night sky. The sea churns violently, illuminated by a lone, burning light in a cottage to the left. A silhouette sits on the rocks, staring out at the tumultuous waters. The clouds are dark and oppressive, almost mountainous, with a bright moon daring to peek through. There’s something breathtaking about the image.

The ceiling curves overhead, giving the room a cylindrical feel with all the walls stark white, save for the one with oversized double doors that lead to a balcony.

I slide the doors open, and a rush of salty breeze greets me, tugging at my clothes and loose hair. Stepping out, I’m mesmerized by the height at which the vessel sails above the churning sea. We glide smoothly, despite the rough sea with whitecaps whipped up by the gusting wind, stunned there’s no rocking motion.

It feels as though I’m on land, which surprises me.

Leaning forward, I grip the high railing, peering down at the waves that crash against the vessel’s side. The location we just escaped from shrinks into nothing more than a small island lost in an ocean expanse. To my side, the view extends into a relentless sea, the horizon occasionally lit by lightning bolts, painting the sky in dark violet hues.

Gods, where have I ended up?

Shivering from the cold gusts that whip around me, I step back into the warmth of my room and close the balcony doors with a soft click. My clothes, still damp, cling uncomfortably to my skin, and I want them off.

Curiosity leads me to a door I haven’t explored yet, tucked discreetly on one side of the room. It opens into a bathroom. The walls, partially made of glass, reveal narrow chambers filled with lush, vibrant plants and flowers that seem to thrive between layers of glass and wall. They are beautiful.

Nearby stand a fancy toilet and a sink that resembles a pearl in its smoothness and luster. Beyond that, a glass door leads to a shower room. At home, I’m lucky to bathe in a tub once a week to conserve water.

I let out a small squeal of excitement. Stripping in seconds, I step into the shower, where I place my hand on a panel beneath the golden showerhead. Water cascades out instantly to the perfect temperature as though it can sense what my body can take.

“This is incredible.” Moaning as the water rushes down my body, I notice water trickling down inside the glass walls, watering the plants, too. Maybe I’ve finally become delusional, but I laugh at the sight while standing under the hot stream, never wanting to leave this room.

Who would have believed that monsters live such opulent lives, while in Nightingale Village, we struggle for everything? Even the shampoo smells of flowers, and I use it to lather my whole body.

Refreshed, I finally emerge, fingers pruned, and wrap myself in two fluffy towels—one around my body, the other drying my hair. Barefoot, I pad across the smooth floorboards back into the bedroom, not yet ready to put on my semi-wet clothes. I approach the wardrobe, hoping for a robe but discovering an array of clothes instead.

I may have cried a tiny bit because I’ve never seen so many outfits and beautiful fabrics. Perhaps these are someone else’s clothes, but they might not mind if I borrow some. The closet is stuffed, the clothes hanging neatly on hangers, in all kinds of colors. I reach over, gently running my fingers across the materials, enjoying the textures against my touch.

Pulling out something that’s almost cushion-soft in my hand—a black bodysuit with long sleeves and a V-neck that feels warm to the touch. Curious, I step into it, dragging it up over my bare skin, surprised to find it actually fits like a glove, is comfortable and, thankfully, not transparent when I glance at my reflection in the glass. Why aren’t there any mirrors in here?

Sure, it hugs my body, but considering I haven’t seen any underwear to put on, it leaves me feeling covered. I tug at the low V-neck, which shows a bit too much cleavage, and as I rummage through the wardrobe, I don’t find any small tops I can wear underneath.

This will have to do.

I’m clean, warm, and refreshed.

Next, I track down a pair of black flats at the bottom of the wardrobe. Slipping them on, I run my fingers through the tangles in my hair and stand there with my thoughts turning back to being married to a monster.

Everything inside me rears up to protest, to fight it. My gut hurts at the fear that I won’t find a way out of it. I mean, I’m stuck on a vessel surrounded by monsters. What will stop them from overpowering me?

Fear wraps around me so fast my head spins.

I’m going to be stuck here for now… at least until I work out a way to return home. So, that means working out how to survive, something I’ve been doing for so long in Nightingale Village. Just surviving being ignored by most of the villagers, by looking after my mom, by trying to behave to avoid getting extra entries into the Choosing Ceremony.

And look where that got me.

Killian insisted I was safe here, but he’s a monster I barely know, and I sure don’t trust him.

Eyeing the door out of my room, I approach it, my hand reaching for the handle. I need to explore and know exactly what I’m dealing with.

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