Page 95 of Dance with Death

Anya

I slump tosit on the cold tile floor the instant Vigo brings me into his bathroom upstairs. I’m exhausted. The last dregs of my energy have been drained. I just want him to leave me for the night so I can rest.

I should be wary about the fact that he’s brought me to his room, rather than return me to my translucent box in the basement. My tired brain doesn’t have the capability of worry. Even seeing Ezra again, though it electrified me for the moments he held me, wasn’t enough to jolt me from this overwhelming exhaustion.

Vigo leans over the sink, peering at his reflection in the mirror. He picks a comb through his hair, adjusting the style to perfection, and turns his head to one side, then the other to inspect his profile. He straightens and runs his hands over his lapels to smooth his jacket. “I’ll be gone for several hours.”

I nod feebly from my pathetic position on the floor, my back leans against the wall beside the clawfoot tub.

“I thought you might enjoy a change of scenery for your evening, so I’m keeping you here rather than returning you to your box.”

Every word I speak in response is dripping with sarcasm, though I find a way to hide the tone in my voice. “That’s very kind of you,Papà.”

He pauses before he slowly spins to look at me. “I’ve had a lovely little idea rolling around in my head and this seems like the perfect time to try it out.”

A quake bursts inside my chest, shooting warning vibrations throughout my entire body. I scoot back, straightening my spine against the wall behind me.

“I will gladly go back to my box tonight and save you the trouble.”

Iwantto go back to my box.

He’s got that look on his face that tells my heart to beat faster, to get the adrenaline pulsing through my veins so I can run.

He moves in front of me, holding out his hand. “Come here.”

Somehow, I manage to lift my trembling hand to meet his and he pulls me to my feet. My body sways toward him, my head light and dizzy because all I’ve consumed today was some water early this morning. Vigo holds me steady with his hands on my waist.

He tilts his head toward the clawfoot tub and his teeth appear behind his lips as they part into an awful grin. “Get in the tub.”

The word burns my lips as it bursts forth. “No.”

“Yes.” His eyebrows lift with glee. “Look, it’s not even filled. I just want you to sit in it, that’s all.”

That’s not fucking all and we both know it.

He’s a lying, tormenting, sick son of a bitch, and we both know that, too.

“Get in.Unless you’d like to suck my cock first andthenget in. That would be fine, too.”

The last goddamn thing I want is his dick in my mouth. Though my heart threatens to explode from my chest in panic over the tub, I turn to move toward it.

“Good girl,” he tells me, letting go of me.

I take one step forward toward the porcelain bathtub and gradually lower my quivering hands to rest on the edge, gripping it tight. I pinch my eyes shut and search my soul for a bit of strength, just enough to get my leg over the edge. It takes every ounce of emotional strength I have left, but I do it. I lift my leg, swing it over the edge, and drop my foot slowly to the bottom.

I blow out all the air in my lungs as I steel myself against the rising panic, sucking it all back in to give myself the strength to bring my other leg over the edge, too. The stiletto of my shoe slips along the porcelain bottom as I shift my weight, but I right myself quickly. I cross my arms over my chest as I rise, shivering as I stand in the tub he’s tortured me in over and over again.

Vigo comes forward, reaching out to touch my arms and rub them in a motion that mimics comfort. His touch is anything but comforting.

“No injection tonight, I promise.”

I shake my head in disbelief; I don’t trust his word.

“No injection. Just sit. All you have to do is sit.”

His eyes implore me to submit, to do as I’m told. I lower because I’m tired, wary, and weak in every sense of the word. Tears well and begin to drip down my cheeks, but I lower. I tremble and cry on my way down, but still, I lower.

The porcelain tub is hard and unforgiving beneath my butt, and it’s uncomfortable to sit here in the center of it. I couldn’t relax my body enough to lean against the edge if I tried, so I remain upright, my knees bent in front of me.

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