Page 32 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
“Because I’d have a hard time explaining to my uncle why I showed up dressed as a common woman of pleasure.”
He looked over the skimpy outfit. “Hmm, yes. I suppose vampires are a bit stuffy and drab in their dress, aren’t they? All grays and blacks.”
“And red.”
He snorted. “You won’t like the red pieces I have in here.”
It took him nearly to the end of the rack, but he lifted a lengthy elegant velvet ebony gown. It would pull somewhat off the shoulders and be quite form fitting, but she liked the long, drooping sleeves and the heavy skirts designed to hit around her ankles. That garment should allow her to move more freely than any of the other configurations she saw him shifting through.
“That will have to do,” she said.
“Don’t sound too enthusiastic.” He handed her the dress. “The water in the washroom should be warm.”
“Are there no undergarments?”
Zarathos blinked at her as if it was the last thing he’d expected her to ask. But then a slow, salacious smile crossed his lips. “I’m afraid those I bring here don’t have much need for undergarments.”
She huffed. Snatching the dress, she stomped away from him into the bathing area. She set the gown next to the folded towels on the table and moved to the contraption above the basin. Reaching up, she pulled on the cord. The contraption opened like a dragon’s jaws, gaping wide and steaming water poured out.
Aryana had seen nothing like it before.
She released the cord when the tub filled, and the enormous mouth snapped shut, staunching the flow of liquid. She eased to the washroom entrance and peered out as she secured Zarathos’s cloak firmly around her.
“Enjoy your bath, Vampress,” Zarathos muttered and the next thing she heard was the bedchamber door closing behind him.
Finally alone, she dropped the cloak and slid into the warm water. A low moan escaped her as the blood caked on her body from several days washed off her. The small table filled with soaps and towels sat to her right. The miniature soap pieces smelled of lavender and honeysuckle. Her lip curled at the thought of smelling good to Zarathos, of smelling like one ofhisgirls. But she needed to wash, so she grabbed the lavender and ran it over her skin, washing away the last of the blood clinging to her flesh.
When she got to her thigh, she paused, examining the Bloodbound mark etched there for the first time. The mark was unique to the couple. Two serpents curled inward. They coiled together in a constricting loop, their eyes burning with heated hunger, two predators circling, ready to devour each other whole.
She looked away as thoughts of her body twining with Zarathos’s filled her veins with an unexpected searing, and the mark on her leg started to burn. Zarathos was a demon, a monster. No matter what it felt like to feast on his blood, she refused to ever again seek him out in that way.
He was hers to protect. And in the end, he’d be hers to kill.
When she finished with the bath, she rose, grasping a towel and wrapping it around her bare body. Once dry, she grabbed the dressand walked behind a folding screen. Lifting the fabric, she stepped into it.
The bedchamber door swung open, and she listened to Zarathos clomp inside. “Nice and refreshed?” he called to her in a gentle voice, yet she tuned into it as if it was a soft whisper that only she heard. Like two intimate lovers sharing a secret.
That was so far from the truth. “Did you build this water contraption?” she asked, although she couldn’t see him.
“Demons do have hobbies, you know. Once in a while I get ideas for home improvement projects and I enjoy trying them out. Are you impressed?” There was amusement in his voice.
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. She was impressed, but she would never say it. “I thought demon hobbies only consisted of torturing hapless souls and ripping out throats.”
A dark chuckle escaped him. “Those were the next ones I was going to mention. Perhaps you’d wish to see what I keep on display for those delights?”
She considered those chains suspended from the ceiling, and a shiver ran up her spine. She most certainly would not.
The dress fit her like a glove, or would once she got the ridiculous back buttoned up. It had the aroma of lavender and honeysuckle combined. She wondered how many of his past lovers wore it. Something in her stomach soured. He’d already trapped her in a bargain.She didn’t wish to be seen as one of his decorative pieces.
She struggled to get the buttons to work. “This gown is a menace,” she mumbled.
“You act as though you’ve never had anyone to dress up for, and I’m certain that’s not true.”
“Usually I had assistance for gowns like these.” Her teeth sank deeper into her lip as she realized what she said.
She sensed the moment he emerged from the shadows, his presence looming behind her, a cold mist brushing past her as a gentle whisper. “Then allow me to assist you,” he murmured.
She huffed and gave up. Her hands drew into fists. She didnotwant to ask for his help. She detested the idea of exposing her bare back to him.
