Page 59 of Slay Me

I wrap an arm around her shoulders, and she holds me against her as we move—painfully slowly—into the bathroom and toward a huge porcelain, freestanding tub. I’m quite disappointed to find it completely empty. Until my new caregiver snaps her fingers, and liquid shimmers into existence right inside.

“How did you—”

“Water fae,” she reminds me with a grin. Then, she helps me move a leg over the side. My foot touches the water, and I nearly weep with relief. While I’m surprised to see my body relatively clean, considering the amount of blood I recall seeing before I passed out, sinking into the aromatic water is enough to have me one step closer to feeling like myself again.

Adaya sets a washcloth on the side. “I’m going to go change the sheets. Call out if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Closing my eyes, I lean back against the tub and enjoy the warm water soaking the grime from my body. It’s now, though, that I let myself reflect on the way Dante looked standing in my room, covered in Valentina’s blood.

His bare chest had been broad; that much I can remember clearly enough. His eyes were wild, hair a mess as though he’d just woken from sleep.

I’d never seen him so disheveled before. Like he’d crawled through tunnels to get to me.Get it together, Liv.His fear makes sense given his star performer was nearly dead on the floor. I’m the only aerobatic left, aside from Apollo. That would be bad for business.

Oh shit! Apollo!Did he run? Leave me behind when he realized I couldn’t go with him? Or worse, did the Ringmaster find him? “My partner?” I call out. “Has anyone told him what happened?”

Adaya peeks into the bathroom. “He knows you were injured and that you survived. He was working with the others to clean up your room.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She grins and steps out of view again.

Relieved at knowing Apollo is fine, I let my mind wander over the feel of Dante’s hand on my cheek. He’d touched me, his fingers warm, comforting. What the hell happens now?

“How do you know the Ringmaster?” I call out.

“I clean up after the messy bastard,” she replies as she steps into the bathroom. “And occasionally help with a wounded performer.”

“I hadn’t seen you before the fire.”

“I’m not needed very often,” she replies with a smile. “Though I did help when you were poisoned.”

Realization dawns, and I feel like a bitch for not putting two and two together. Then again, I was pretty damn out of it. “Thank you for saving my life. Twice now.”

She smiles again. “You’re welcome. And don’t worry, I don’t keep tabs like D does.”

Somehow, I suspect there’s more to their story, a side I’m not hearing, but I put it aside it for now. Closing my eyes, I lean back against the tub.

Yesterday was the third time I’ve been that close to death. Three times in my thirty-four years of life that I’ve genuinely believed I was not going to live to see another sunrise.

Tears burn in my eyes, so I close them, taking deep, steadying breaths.

The first time was when Ernesto traded my body in a business dealing. I’d fought back, refusing to let his friends have me. He’d beaten me so badly they hadn’t been able to use me after all.

Before I healed, he sealed me in stone. Leaving me to fester in my pain. I’d longed to feel death’s chilling fingers for the three weeks he left me there. My wounds healed just enough for me to live, but not nearly enough to ease my pain.

Three weeks of bordering on insanity.

It wasn’t until someone bumped into the stone that I fell, and it broke, releasing me. I’d run. Despite the pain in my ribs, the ache in my head, I ran as far and fast as I could, but it wasn’t enough.

They caught me in that alley, and had Dante not shown up, I’ve no doubt Ernesto would have finished me off the second he got the chance.

And now—this never should have happened. I let my guard down, believed her misplaced jealousy was just an annoyance. Never would I have pegged Valentina for a killer. The fact that she was makes me wonder just what everyone else here is capable of. It has me wondering if perhaps the person who murdered Thomas and Jenny isn’t closer than I could have ever imagined.

“You ready to wash?”

Adaya’s voice pulls me back to the present, and I nod, opening my eyes to meet her gaze. She bends over behind me. “Scoot forward and lean your head back.”

“I can wash myself—”

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