The supple latex laid against my body like a second skin. The body suit had strips of fabric cut out from armpit to ankle on either side. Hot again, from all the blood I drank, I appreciated the spaghetti straps. I’d foregone panties to avoid unseemly lines. I mean, I was going for tawdry, not trashy. Though I doubted his highness appreciated the distinction.
After finding more than a couple dough chunks in my hair from my attempt at baking, I’d washed and dried it again. Now it fell over to one side, fresh and voluminous. I re-wrapped the strap of leather around my neck again, preferring how it covered my scars.
Timothy had also led me to the vanity in the bedroom. It was equipped with more makeup than I knew what to do with, but I’d given it my best shot. Black, smoky eyeshadow made my green eyes pop. Add a little blush, bronzer and some lip gloss, and I looked less…dead.
Earlier in the lobby, Grim had been all “why would you wearthatin public?” and I didn’t appreciate his judgment. So I took my fashion to the next level. If he wanted me to go anywhere with him, he was going to have to take me looking like a dominatrix.
“What?” I pouted as Grim looked increasingly incensed the longer he gawked at me. “You don’t like the shoes?” I glanced down at the black patent peep-toe heels. The footwear was one of the two concessions I made on Timothy’s behalf, the other being a gold arm band that clasped around my bicep.
Grim pointed at me but looked at Timothy. “Take her back in there and the next time she comes out, she’d better be in appropriate attire.”
“If it was good enough for some sex kitten you’ve already nailed, why don’t you like it now?” I taunted, batting my eyelashes at him.
A flash of confusion shot through his eyes.
Like he didn’t know what I was talking about. I bet he hand-picked whatever bold gal wore this getup to come back to his penthouse for a sexy romp. I had no feelings about that whatsoever.
Timothy grimaced. “I’m sorry, sire, but she is as stubborn as you are.”
Timothy shot a nervous look in my direction. I’d given him a taste of my feral side. When he tried to press the issue of what was “appropriate” I went off on him, asking where he got off, thinking he could tell me what I could or couldn’t wear. I dropped words like “misogynist pig,” and he backed up fast and quick. I later heard him talking to himself, while I dried my hair, about not being paid enough for his job.
Grim started toward me. “Then I’ll dress her myself,” he said, storming my direction. I flashed my fangs at him, ready to duke it out.
Just try me, buddy.
I needed a whip, or a crop, or something to go with the clothes, and to smack Grim in line so he knew who was really in charge here. Yes, I was technically his prisoner, and yes, I was supposed to be bait, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t take my own shots.
Timothy stepped between us at the last minute. “Unfortunately, sire, there is no time. Your meeting is imminent and if you wish to make it, you both must leave now.”
Grim’s fists were closed, shaking by his sides. I wanted to push him. Make Mr. Control blow his lid.
Why was tempting Death so…fun? Maybe I was a few fries short of a happy meal?
I recalled cackling like a maniac in the morgue, covered in blood. Yep, I was definitely this side of crazy. I tacked on death wish to the list of things I knew about myself.
Though knowing Death looked likethat, who wouldn’t wish for him?
Instead of tearing me to pieces for flaunting my Mistress Vivien costume, Grim passed by me, walking into the elevator. He smoothed back his thick, dark hair. I watched the tension transfer from his fists to his jawline.
I patted Timothy on the cheek as I flounced by him, joining Death. As the doors closed behind us, I thought I heard Timothy mutter a prayer.
12
Iwas pleased to find the line for my club, Wolf Town, was staggering, per usual. The club-goers waiting had likely started lining up mid-afternoon, but many were still eagerly peering up at the well-muscled doormen, anxious to get in. That is until Vivien and I arrived.
Despite Vivien’s outrageous attire, I made sure Vivien stayed glued to my side, considering she looked like a walking felony. And she was sorely mistaken if she believed she was likely to get another shot at escape.
All eyes turned toward us as we strode past the line. Waves of awe and lust washed over me, while in others, I could sense cloying envy and reluctant respect. No one approached or called out at us, which was how I preferred it. I made sure to exude cold indifference to discourage any from advancing. Yet the reactions were also intensified by the presence of my escort.
With a glance at Vivien, my eyes drank in the sight of bared strips of flesh along the side of her bodysuit. Arousal shot through me in a furious torrent. I ground my teeth so hard I tasted blood. The urge to bend Vivien over the nearest railing and rip off that provocative outfit was driving me to near madness. Which was why the only way I could fight off the lust that pounded through every fiber of my being was by smothering it with anger.
Did I care that eyes from the throng also caressed her curves, the sway of her hips, as they imagined wrapping their hands in her hair while pounding into her without mercy?
My thoughts were interrupted before I could answer my own question.
“Grim, Grim Scarapelli.” A man’s voice called out my name with a familiarity he had not earned.
I stopped, forcing Vivien to pause as well.
