Page 61 of Bite
I force a brittle smile, nodding.
“I’m here for you, Tay,” she murmurs, her expression turning serious. “Whatever you need. Shopping, drinks… and if you wanna run away after, just say the word and we’ll disappear.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, squeezing her hand. “But no running away. Just the shopping and drinks.”
“Fine.” She flops back against the leather seat dramatically. “So, where are we headed? Somewhere fancy that gives out free champagne?”
“How else are we supposed to live out ourPretty Womanfantasy?” I tease, finally managing a real smile.
The driver merges into downtown traffic, the noise of the city wrapping around us. Car horns, chatter, music thumping from other cars… it’s all so loud and messy and alive that my chest actually aches with relief. I hadn’t realized how silent and sterile the estate felt until now. Just being out here in the real world is already making me feel more grounded.
Well, that, and Bex.
We spend the next several hours wandering from boutique to boutique– places we never would’ve dreamed setting foot in, suddenly accessible thanks to my new ‘job’. The driver doubles as a bodyguard, trailing us from store to store and lingering just close enough to keep a watchful eye. It’s weird at first, but we adjust. Not that we have any choice in the matter.
Bex drags me toward racks of silk blouses and soft sweaters, holding things up against me with theatrical disapproval or delight. She talks a mile a minute, filling me in on gossip from the tattoo shop, the new bartender she’s been flirting with, a rumor about a guy we used to know landing in jail…
Normally, I’d jump in to tease her or ask for details. Today, though, my mind keeps wandering. Every texture against my skin, every brush of fabric, reminds me of last night– the weight of James’ hands, the press of his mouth, the way I melted into a damn puddle beneath him.
“Earth to Taylor,” Bex calls, waving a hanger in front of my face. “You’re zoning out again.”
“Sorry,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”
“Uh huh,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.
“Seriously, I was up late last night. James had this… party at the estate.”
She snaps to attention, arching a dark brow. “What kind of party, and why wasn’t I invited?”
I avert my gaze, combing my fingers through my hair as I drop my voice low. “The kind where clothing is optional.”
She gapes at me, eyes wide. “Like a sex party?!”
“Shh!” I hiss, frantically glancing around to make sure nobody’s listening in. The weekday shopping crowd dried up about an hour ago, though, and other than the lone clerk across the store and the driver lurking just inside the doors, we’re alone.
“Okay, wait, this makes so much sense,” Bex laughs, quieter now. “You look amazing. Like… disturbingly glowy. You finally got that vampire D, didn’t you?”
I don’t answer, but the heat that rushes to my cheeks says it all.
“No way!” she whisper-shouts, immediately breaking into a little happy dance. She stops when she realizes I haven’t joined in, smile fading and brows furrowing. “Wait, why don’t you look happy about this? Did he hurt you or something? I swear to god, Tay, if that asshole–”
“No,” I cut in, my stomach swooping. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?” she presses, frowning. “You can tell me.”
I hesitate, staring down at the pile of clothes draped over my arm. The truth burns at the back of my throat, heavy and shameful. Because he didn’t hurt me… not in any way I didn’t beg him to.
“It’s complicated,” I admit.
Bex exhales dramatically and throws an arm around my shoulders, steering me toward the fitting rooms. “Everything in your life is complicated. That’s your brand. But I’m gonna need you to hurry up and try those clothes on, because our timeline for drinks and girl talk just moved all the way up.”
I laugh despite myself and let her push me into a room, leaving me alone with my reflection. She’s right– even under the harsh fluorescent lights, I look good. Positively glowing. But as I peel off my clothes and catch sight of the bruises, I swear I can still feel James’ hands tracing my hips. And as I examine everything I try on in the mirror, my hand unconsciously drifts to my neck, remembering the ghost of his bite.
“Well? How do they look?” Bex’s voice calls through the door, muffled but impatient.
I blink and clear my throat. “They fit.”
“Then let’s buy them and get the hell out of here.”
