Page 27 of Hair, She Bears
“Yes.” She glared at him.
Flinging the handkerchief at her face, he straightened. His gaze slid over the small space.
“Did Malik have anything to do with your sudden compassion for his Uncle Carlyle?”
Uncle? Why had Malik not mentioned that connection?
“Compassion is not a word I’d associate with your son.” She pressed the handkerchief to her mouth. “Or with you.”
“And you think you know my son’s nature?” His eyes dropped to her.
“He was raised by you.” Using the mattress for support, she climbed from the floor and leaned against the bedpost. Swiping her hair from her face, she winced as her fingers passed over a bruise blossoming on her cheek.
Mother nodded, seemingly satisfied with her response, and turned toward the staircase. The floorboards creaked as he clomped toward the landing. He froze as if debating the weakness of the wood, waved his hand, and vanished. Reappearing beside the shelves of Votras Alute, his mouth pressed into a hard line.
“There are bottles missing.” He glared up at her, holding four empty vials in his hand.
“Two of them were yours, the other two, I used,” she replied, hesitant to leave the loft. Malik’s scent permeated the small space, wrapping around her in a comforting embrace.
“You used them?” Mother snarled, flinging the vials at the fireplace. They exploded, spitting shards of glass across the floor. He stomped to the center of the tower. “Come here.”
She swallowed. Rolling her shoulders back, she exited the loft and walked down the staircase, her legs threatening to buckle. She crossed the floor and stopped just outside Mother’s reach.
“Closer,” he said, his voice sent a shiver of terror rippling through her body.
She took one more step.
Mother’s heavy hand landed on her shoulder and pinched her flesh, threatening to crack her bones between his thick fingers. He jerked her to him, his mouth moved over her ear in an intimate caress.
“You stole from me.”
She swallowed the disgusted lump in her throat and forced her voice to remain even.
“I needed them to deconstruct the last batch.”
“Since when?”
“You said this was one of my better ones.” She cringed under his grip. “I wanted to recreate it.”
“Why?” His eyes glowed black.
“A better product means less of the drug is needed per vial. It would increase my output and pay off the debt faster… especially now that you have added Carlyle’s worth to my obligation.”
Mother threw back his head and laughed, the horrific sound reverberating through the tower, growing to a deafening cackle.
“Ingenious!” He released her and spun toward the shelves. She staggered away from him and slipped around the sofa. Rubbing at her ear, her skin crawled.
Clapping his hands together, he lifted one arm, slashed it in a figure eight, and the vials disappeared. He repeated the gesture a second time, and empty, pristine vials reappeared in the racks. Jerking his head toward the sofa, he indicated a large burlap sack that rested on the cushions.
“I brought you a few things, water, food, clothing.” His gaze slid down her shirt, stopping at her exposed thigh, a sinister gleam flashing in his eyes. “Your outfit is quite inappropriate. Were I a different man…” His voice trailed off, leaving his disturbing sentence unfinished.
“Thank you,” Zenna said, not because she was grateful, but because he expected her appreciation.
“Warm in here this evening.” He glanced at the fireplace, a pensive expression on his face.
Zenna gulped. If he figured out the fire was fueled by Votras Alute, his fury would be unparalleled. She took a step toward the fireplace.
“It’s not any different from any other night.” At least, it wouldn’t be anymore, now that she knew she could use the drug for warmth. “You rarely visit me this late.”
