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I had no idea how much energy it took for me to just keep myself in control when I was around him, but the moment his presence was gone, my body finally gave up.
The release came in the form of tears.
I cried for what felt like hours.
Over everything.
The loss of all I knew.
My parents’ lies and betrayal.
But most of all, I cried because I no longer understand what I was. I thought as I got older I would experience that kind of wisdom that people get with time when they understand who they truly are, that confidence in your skin, that assurance in yourself. I was working toward that, I was counting on it, to one day not be such a lost mess inside, constantly hiding that turmoil, my inner scared self from the world.
Now, that day will never come. Because I will never be normal again. I knew I never was quite right, I knew, especially from the way others were always so wary around me, that I would never really fit in, never be normal. But I wanted to pretend forever.
And now I can’t.
Eventually though, I had no more tears left to cry. I sat there on the floor, trying to make sense of the warring sides inside me, the good and the bad, then I realized there was no point trying to understand. It was too soon. Even I knew that, and besides … I might not have a future at all.
So I got up, ignoring the bags of clothes, and went into the washroom where I discovered Amethyst had left me a present sitting in the tub. A soaking kit filled with aromatic bubbles, salts, and dried flowers.
There was a note with it.
Sometimes a hot bath makes our troubles seem trite.
Amethyst.
Had I been in any other state, I would have thrown the jars in a fit of rage over such obnoxious, ignorant words.
But I was weak.
I lit some candles, drew a bath, and got in, and pretty soon the smells of dried lavender, roses, chamomile, carnations, mint, and other fragrant herbs sunk deep into my soul, grounding me in that well, and I floated away into sleep.
Now, I’m staring at my naked body in the water, feeling like it belongs to someone else, the lack of tattoos making me wonder what else about me has been wiped clean. My morals? My personality?
I’m even thinner now. I’d blame it on not having anything to eat for a week, but that’s not it. Maybe thin is the wrong word. Strong would be better. I still have my curves, it’s just that I suddenly have all this lean muscle that wasn’t visible before.
I sigh and get out of the bath, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel before looking at myself in the mirror.
At least my face looks the same. I don’t have those weird moons in my eyes. I don’t even look as tired as I should. But I do look afraid.
It’s no wonder, you’re going to be auctioned off to vampires tonight.
I shudder at the thought. Even if I am a vampire now, it’s only part of me, not all of me, and these creatures seem more than happy to attack their own. I mean, Absolon himself must be seen as a traitor of the highest order to do what he does.
And that’s why you have to look good, I remind myself. Make him want to keep you around. Keep him fascinated.
I put my hair into a towel and go into the bedroom to get started.
I start going through all the shopping bags, one by one, bringing out the clothes from the more casual stores, like Anthropologie and Nordstrom. I have to admit, I’m impressed. Most are just normal clothes, a pair of black jeans, sweaters, leggings, and a bunch of dresses, but not only do they all seem to fit me, they all have the same vibe and style. It’s not quite mine per se I don’t wear dresses often and these seem to be ripped from a cottage core Pinterest page—but they’re still pretty and deeply romantic. I have to wonder if this was Absolon’s influence or Amethyst’s. I then find a Sephora bag with about a grand worth of makeup—I know Amethyst had everything to do with that.
Then I move on to the designer goods.
I’m speechless. So much so that I totally forget why I have these clothes in the first place. At least it’s a distraction from the ugly truth.
There are two dresses from Alexander McQueen.
One is black, calf-length, made entirely of leather, with a bustier top that will barely fit my breasts, and red leather overlay over one shoulder. It reminds me of the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland, if she were into BDSM.
The other is a strapless sweetheart neckline, vibrant red, draped with layers and layers of gauzy fabric to the floor. Gorgeous.
