Page 43 of Under Fyre

I find both the tinned kind and a small packet of dry food in the cupboard. Since I have no idea which she’s supposed to have, I open the can and mix some of the dry food with the gooey stew.

“Mmm,” I say unenthusiastically. “This smells delicious.”

I turn around and almost drop the metal bowl on the floor. Arrow is standing right behind me, her eyes big, her tail wagging.

“It’s bad manners to sneak up on someone like that,” I mutter, putting her bowl down on the floor.

Arrow watches me do it, and then looks up at me.

“Well.Eat.” I wave at the bowl.

Arrow just watches me.

What the fuck? Isn’t she hungry?Iam.

“I know it’s not homemade stew, but it’s the best you’re getting until Fyre comes home.”

Ifhe comes home.

I hurry into the living room and take a big sip of my wine. So, if I had to break out of here, how would I—

Lights splash through the kitchen window, making me choke on my wine.

“God, finally.” I hurry over to the window, my shoulders dropping in relief when I see Fyre’s truck pulling up to the cabin.

That relief disappears the instant Fyre steps into the spotlights and looks up. He’s carrying two shopping bags, and a brown bag that might have been groceries.

Innocent enough.

But the smile he gives me stops my heart.

Chapter Twenty

Charlotte

My stomach flips over when Fyre calls me into the bedroom. He’s been busy in there for a few minutes, but I thought he was maybe just changing into comfier clothes. I got myself another glass of wine, and it’s half empty already.

Arrow started chowing down on her food seconds after she’d greeted Fyre at the front door. Now she’s curled up in front of the smoking fire her master set before he disappeared into the bedroom.

“Charlotte.” His voice is so hard, I drain the rest of the wine before I can make myself go into the bedroom.

He’s crouched by the fire, a few plumes of smoke curling up from where he’s lighting fresh logs.

“Yeah?” I wrap my arms around myself. It feels even chilly in here—I guess the living room at least had the benefit of me and Arrow’s body heat.

He doesn’t acknowledge me—still busy with the fire—so I glance around the room. When my eyes land on the outfit laid out on the bed, blood drains from my face. I’m not even aware that I’m backing up until my back hits the door jamb.

“Put it on.”

I run through my options.

It doesn’t take long, because I don’t have any.

So I put on the outfit he laid out so neatly for me. It’s a little tight in the hips, and my boobs don’t quite fill out the bodice.

Fyre stands, dusts his hands, and turns to glance at me over his shoulder.

The look in his eyes makes my skin crawl. I have to work spit into my mouth before I can speak. “Peter made me wear this?” The hollow question hangs in the air for long seconds before Fyre shakes his head.

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