Page 69 of Beg the Night

She helped slip it on, oohing and aahing as it fit me perfectly.Okay, maybe this was why she was so happy. She got to lookat pretty clothes while she played dress-up with prisoners month after month.

I supposed there were worse jobs in the world.

“Are you sure this is it?” I asked. “I feel naked.”

The woman laughed as she twisted my hair into a loose bun at the base of my skull, leaving a few strands free by my face. It looked…effortless. I actually didn’t hate it.

“You look beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes on mine in the mirror. “Your body is a tool, miss. You must wield it as a weapon, no?”

“Hm. I don’t exactly feel like a weapon. More like a rag doll.”

She straightened behind me, placing both hands on my bare shoulders and angling in close to my ear. “You can be a rag doll if you wish. But you are a woman. You are smart. You are sneaky. They will underestimate you. If you act weak, they will see you as weak. But perhaps that is your greatest advantage.”

She smiled again. This time, rather than creepy, her expression was a little rebellious. The twinkle in her eye ignited a fire in my chest.

“What was your name again?” I asked.

Focused on smoothing my hair back, she said, “My name is Lauren.”

I dipped my chin, watching her in the mirror as she straightened my dress. “Thank you, Lauren. I suppose tonight could be a lot worse than it is.”

She didn’t meet my eyes as she kneeled in front of me with a pair of white heels. She grasped my ankle gently and guided my foot into one. “It could be worse, miss. You’re alive. It could always be worse.”

When she opened the door and gestured for me to step through it, I did so with my head held high.

I was nobody’s rag doll.

But a weapon? I rather liked that.

TWENTY-ONE

sinner

Ihated being touched. I hated being looked at. I hated being perceived in any meaning of the word.

The woman silently bathed and dressed me, ignoring every one of my arguments and grunts of refusal.

Finally,fuckingfinally, I was dressed in a loose-fitting white linen suit, a thin shirt, and soft white shoes that matched the ridiculous outfit.

All white? Wasn’t that supposed to signify purity or peace?

I was neither of those things. As I surveyed myself in the mirror, it took effort not to laugh.

Who the fuck was the asshole looking back at me?

The woman in charge of dressing me might have seen a big man with too-long hair. Or maybe she saw a guy who’d elevate the Ministry’s magic by performing the claiming ritual under the blood moon.

But I saw a monster being held in chains. A demon decaying under the surface.

A man drowning.

“You ready, sir?” She motioned toward the door.

No. I would never be ready for this. I sure as hell wasn’t ready for what I knew would come after this.

Regardless of how much I dreaded what would happen after this preposterous dinner, Athena had to feel worse. She was good at masking her emotions, almost as good as I was, but instead of shutting down, she covered her emotions with humor and attitude.

I’d been convinced by the act at first. It took weeks to finally see what was truly beneath the surface. And like me, she was hiding plenty.

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