Page 57 of Barbi and the Villain

Books and real life do not mix.

His countenance suddenly changes. No longer the playful, somewhat roguish man from before, the one in front of me exudes dark energy. His dark mist doesn’t have to materialize for me to feel the shift in the air. It’s in the way his face becomes expressionless again, his lips set in a grim line just as his eyes regard me with chilling coldness.

“You are young and foolish, Barbi. You have no idea what the world can do to a girl like you,” he rumbles, taking a step forward. I wobble backward, but I keep my ground—the last thing I want is for him to see me as weak. “You might have stumbled here by chance, but you should thank all your gods, holy and unholy, that you have a chance to go back to your quiet little home and live a quiet little life.”

“You… You’re just trying to scare me,” I mumble.

A cynical smile tips at his lips. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Is it working?”

I slowly shake my head, though a tremor claims my body. My heart races in my chest, but I tell myself it’s just his proximity, not his intense demeanor that does scare me.

“It should, Barbi. It should.” He smirks. “It seems I made a mistake indulging you.” His form a thin, foreboding line.

“No, I?—”

“You will go to that portal, and you will go back to Anthropa. Is that clear?” His voice has a mesmerizing quality to it, but one that’s tinged with threat and the promise of punishment.

I shake my head again.

“If you leave me, I will just follow you again,” I say in defiance.

He takes a step forward.

My back hits the hard trunk of a tree, leaving me no route of escape. I slowly look up to find him watching me with a mocking smile on his lips.

“That is where you are wrong. I allowed you to follow me. It will not happen again,” he notes wryly.

“So that’s it? You’ll just leave me by myself? What if something happens to me on the way to the portal? What if I never make it to the portal because psycho Damien decides to show up and kill me? You’ll have my death on your conscience…”

He raises an amused brow as he places his palm against the trunk, right by my face. He leans in, his breath a razor’s edge away.

“Do you think I have a conscience?”

“W-what?” I blink rapidly.

“Let me put it this way, Barbi. You were my brief distraction after eons of nothing to entertain myself with. Nothing more, nothing less. Although I realize now that was a mistake.”

“You… You’re wrong.” I gulp down. “You’re nice. You were nice to me. You killed that terrible Ivan. You saved my PomPom, and you gave me food and water and?—”

“Nice…” he repeats, suddenly bursting into laughter. “Nice. You say I am nice…”

“To me. You were nice to me. So you can continue being nice by letting me tag along and then I can entertain you some more. Maybe even give you more blood,” I stammer as I pull on the collar of my gown to reveal my neck. “You like my blood, no? I can give you more.”

“Hm, and what else will you give me?”

“What?” I blink.

“You will give me your blood and what else?”

“I—” I lick my lips. “What else do you want? I can sing, but not terribly well. You may not like it much, but it might prove entertaining. I can also do a dance routine with my PomPom, but I suppose I should instruct BonBon too so he doesn’t feel left out, and that might take some time, but I promise you that’s very entertaining. We’ve won awards for it and?—”

“Let me get this straight,” he interrupts me. “You will sing and dance for me?”

“And give you blood,” I whisper.

“And give me blood,” he repeats, his tone marred by irony. “What else?”

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