Page 73 of Death Game: Supernatural Battle

“You’re right, Harry,” I said, pursing my lips. “On all counts.”

She didn’t answer me, watching me warily. No matter how many of these verbal sword fights I won, she always came back for more. Like besting me once would be her crowning glory. That was the way of the world I lived in though.

Pathetic.

“However, I’m a hell of a lot more without my name than you’d ever be without yours.” I held up a finger. “And yes, in comparison to a Gregorian, I am fucking untouchable. You should remember that.”

Harriet jerked forward in her seat, fists clenching.

“Ladies? How are you getting along?” Francesca popped into existence between us.

I tried to look vaguely pissed off.

Her smirk widened. “Basilia, come with me. I’ll show you to your outfits.”

Ugh, here we go.

Francesca led me to a rack directly behind the stage curtain, and my heart dropped out my ass.

“Lingerie,” I said dully.

Bitch!

She peeked down and grimaced. “I hope you shaved.”

Only because the act kept me sane. “Don’t you worry about that. I expected to be dressed in monstrosities.”

Anger sparked in her gaze. “I don’tdesignmonstrosities.”

No, she didn’t. I looked up her label as soon as Gerome dropped me in this thing.

Ihadexpected her to make an exception for me.

“Which end do I start at?” There were five outfits—a bustier, negligee, camisole, and frilly panty set, a strappy number I couldn’t make head or tail of, and a normal bra set.

“Bustier,” she said, pointing to the back. “Change behind that curtain. You’ll have three minutes between walks.”

No kidding, there were at least twenty women and ten men in here.

I took the hanger and disappeared behind the curtain, joining another five women. Stripping off, I pulled on the G-banger first and forced my boobs into the bustier.Jesus,I was going to slip serious nip in this getup. Best not bounce too much.

An assistant came in and arranged my outfit, tugging up the thong, and yanking the garters into place before shoving me into blue-steel heels to match the set.

I pulled a face at the closest woman, who grinned, buck naked.

Francesca placed me at the front of the queue.

“You’re such a shit,” I told her.

She didn’t respond. Smirking Francesca was no longer home. The vampire arranged my hair around my boobs that were nearly pushed up to my chin before pulling my bustier higher.

“My organs didn’t need to be where they were anyway,” I murmured.

She circled me, nodding. “Walk, pose, come back, grab the next outfit, change, and get in line. Your posture is excellent. Emphasise the bust on this one and the curve of your waist.”

She snatched my phone away, shoving it in her pocket.

Even over the deep murmur and bustle back here, my new and improved ears made it impossible to ignore the crowd on the other side of the curtain. Music had started and a sultry beat created the sensuous backboard for a breathy soft-jazz singer.

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