Page 57 of Dance with the Devil

With Luca in place to check out the layout of the compound where we were kept, Savannah was selected to play the part ofFalco’s girlfriend. I kinda feel bad for Dame when it came to that. He had to choose between his new wife and his beloved kid sister, and even Savannah knew that he would pick me.

She says it plainly, then slips something about the first night we met: how, in the middle of her going down on Damien, and after I burst into the room before high-tailing it back out again, she made a comment about thinking thatIwas his wife. Besides that being super gross to even think about, Dame doesn’t do bigamy. But remember: Savannah and Damien got married after Savannahstabbedhim. Their marriage was a power play that actually ended up working out so far, but he told her that she’d be a victim of one of his enforcers if she so much as laid a finger on a hair of my head.

Instead, the two of us become fast buddied, bonding over her kitty, and now Savannah is both one of his enforcersandthe woman who helped rescue me and Cross from Winter.

She’s more than that, too. I can forgive her her taste in men—because if Cross had shown himself to be like Damien in the beginning, I would’ve never fallen for him—because of how she’s basically replaced Christopher as my partner in crime these days.

I still haven’t talked to him. I know he’s on thin ice with the Family because, after confessing that I was suddenly missing, he had to tell Damien all about how I’ve been sneaking out for years. I’m pretty sure the only reason he still has his neck in one piece is because he kept me safe every time I did. That, plus I’d be really pissed off if Damien slit my best friend’s throat.

I don’t blame Christopher. It’s more that I’m ashamed that my reckless actions gothimin trouble. So when he reached out right after our rescue and told me he understands that I need space and he’ll give it to me, I jumped at the chance to put some distance between us.

Damien? He can fuck off for all I care. I might’ve forgiven him if he hadn’t chopped down my tree in a fit of brotherly entitlement. Like, I get it. He wants me to stay in the manor. I guess I should be grateful that I put my foot down and refused him to chip me with a tracker and heletme, but with Cross acting like I don’t exist, it’s not like I wouldn’t have agreed to not sneak out again until this whole thing with Winter is done.

No one can find him. No one knows what he’s planning, or if he finally got it through his thick skull that Springfield will never be Snowflake turf. He’s vanished, and when weeks pass, turning to more than a month that I’m a basic prisoner in my room, I start to get the old familiar itch to go out into the world again. I want freedom?—

Ah, who am I kidding? I wantCross.

He couldn’t have made it more clear that he doesn’t want me. Rejection fucking sucks, but I’m a big girl. I should just be happy to have experienced so many firsts with him.

My first love.

My first fuck.

My firstkill.

And my first heartbreak.

Savannah doesn’t leave the manor, either. Not really. When she first came to stay—and I nearly had a fit when I thought Damien had a secret girlfriend he up and married without telling me about her—she was as much a prisoner as I am now. Once she proved her love and loyalty to my brother, she can leave as she pleases, but Savannah prefers to stay in at the manor unless she’s going out as one of Dame’s enforcers.

I’ve discovered that she’s a homebody who enjoys binging movies and TV shows in our big home theater room, curled up next to Orion, while eating popcorn and talking to me about what we both think will happen next.

I haven’t watched television since I came home. The theater room is on the second floor of the manor—Damien’s turf—and I’m still avoiding him. He thinks I’ll get over his heavy-handed treatment of me eventually.

Don’t hold your breath, Dame. I know how to hold a grudge when it counts.

As though he can sense I need his company, Orion has been my shadow. If he’s not with Savannah, he’s with me, and though he’s not quite the man I want to sleep next to, Orion has been my buddy in bed for weeks now.

He’s there now, curled up at the end of my bed, while I fluff my hair, checking it out in my mirror as Savannah nods in approval.

“It looks good, Gen. I really thought that pink would suit you.”

“It’s really nice,” I agree.

When Savannah went to the drug store to grab another box of dye, going from that auburn color back to her deeper brunette shade, I impulsively asked her to get me some, too. I wanted color, I wanted pizazz, and though I drew the line at coloring my whole head, she helped me paint in a few streaks in the front before dipping the ends of my blonde hair in the pink dye.

It was equal parts to give me something to do, to shake up the sameness of every fucking day, as well as knowing that Damien would purse his lips in disapproval if he saw what we’d done.

Oh, well.

That’s not all she bought for me at the drug store, either. When I couldn’t ignore the reality any longer, I finally acquiesced and allowed her to pick up a pregnancy test. I’d hope that sleeping with Cross twice without any protection would’ve leave a bun in my over to take care of, and the test boasts a ninety-nine perfect accuracy.

I really hope it means it because I’d never been so relieved to have a test with a negative result.

I don’t want kids. Not anytime soon. Maybe not even ever. I’m only twenty-five, and I planned on dancing professionally ‘til I was at least thirty. If I kept myself in shape, there was no reason I couldn’t. I might not ever dance on a big stage again, but there are more than enough local companies where I could dance for a few more years.

I haven’t watched television. I haven’t danced, either.

Which is why I can’t help the pang in my chest as Savannah says, “And it’s the wash-out stuff, too. Give it a couple of weeks and it’ll be gone. The next time you’re preparing for a performance, you won’t have to worry about having pink hair.”

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