Page 30 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

I added cream and a teaspoon of sugar to my coffee, taking small sips.

For now, maybe I could pretend this was just a fancy vacation. Something I’d enjoy for a few days before figuring out what came next. I couldn’t remain captive here. It went against everything inside me.

People didn’t just accept something like this. Besides, I’d spent the first eighteen years of my life under someone else’s thumb. I refused to do it again. I’d made a promise to myself on my eighteenth birthday. I would never again be subjected to the control of others.

After devouring my breakfast, I traipsed into the bathroom. The tub began to fill, and I added some salts to the water. A quick rummage through the cabinets revealed everything I needed. I shed my clothes and submerged up to my shoulders, careful to keep the bandage dry.

I managed to clean myself up and wash my hair. I was obsessive about my cleaning rituals. Growing up, some of my foster homes were better than others. The bad ones, where I hadn’t been allowed to bathe regularly, had treated me no better than an animal, sometimes even worse than one. Those homes were the ones that made me this way.

For the first few years afterward, I’d sometimes take three showers a day. Even still, I often found myself taking two. I loved feeling clean.

Zola’s voice jerked me awake. “Well, now. Aren’t you relaxed?” I squealed, trying to cover myself and sloshing lukewarm water everywhere. “Oh darling, we have the same anatomy, and I can assure you I’ve seen plenty over the years. Your shyness is a waste. Come, the water is already cold.”

She held a towel. I eyed it, thinking of how absurd this was. Then—to hell with it—I stood.

Zola helped me step from the bath, wrapping me up. It was comical really, that a woman who looked young enough to be my age was fussing over me the way I imagined a mother might. None of my mothers had cared overmuch for me, beyond ensuring they got their government check each month.

“What’s that look for, hm? Chin up. I put some clothes there. I’ll be in the other room.”

She disappeared, leaving me alone. I quickly changed, enjoying the citrus smell that followed in my wake. Would that make my blood more enticing?

My traitorous mind summoned an image of Laurent, looking at me with pure hunger. It was better than his cold emptiness. Still, I shut the thought down.

Several calming breaths later, I emerged barefooted to find Zola staring out the window. She turned and smiled. “There, now. Let’s have our tour.”

I followed behind her as she pointed out various rooms and who they belonged to. The only names I recognized were the vampires I’d already met. These were on the third floor. I asked her how Hassan was doing when she pointed out his room.

“He’ll live.”

We moved on to the second floor where she led me past more rooms, like the drawing room I’d seen before. Laurent’s study. Marco’s study. A couple of sitting rooms. An art room with half-finished easels. “Astrid is the only one who really uses this one,” she explained.

We moved to the first floor. After a few minutes, it became my favorite. A conservatory filled with plants like rare orchids, a medium sized ball room, a dining room with a huge table, and a library.

“You like books, then?” Zola asked, studying me. I could only nod, my jaw hanging loose. “Well, then, follow me.”

She led me through the room. The ceiling was vaulted, walls shelved floor to ceiling with books. Halfway up, a rod iron balcony spanned the circumference of the room. Giant windows broke up the space, letting in tons of daylight. There were two fireplaces on the bottom level, a cozy couch arrangement, and a large conference table in the center.

“If you think this is impressive, you should see the real library at House Sarkas.”

“House Sarkas is an actual…house?” I frowned.

“Oh, of course. It’s a house and it’s a house. The actual house—a fortress, really—is the heart of our family. It’s in Italy. Laurent only spends time there during the season. Otherwise, he prefers it here.”

It was hard to believe there was a place grander than this.

“It’s a real castle,” she explained. “And the library is a true library, with rows and rows of gilded stacks that put this to shame.” I could only blink, taking everything in. “Okay, just here,” she said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me over to a section of books. “Reading material has vastly improved over the past few decades. Every male in this house gives me shit for my tastes but, hey, a girl has needs, am I right?”

I looked over the section she pointed out. It only took a moment before⁠—

“Oh, my freaking God!” I cried. “You’ve got the entire Orcs of Truth series?” My eyes fixed fondly on the set of seventeen hardcover books. OoT had gotten me through my semester of linear algebra and differential equations a few years back. “Have you read them all?”

“Of course. Who is your favorite?”

“Iarvosh! Like, is that even a question?”

She laughed. “I did like him. But I was partial to Getram. The way he uses his tongue…hmm…” She wagged her eyebrows and I blushed, turning away to take in the rest of the books on display. There were hundreds upon hundreds. “This whole area is my section, obviously. I wouldn’t bother with the others. Well, maybe Astrid’s, though she’s more into crime thriller, which I don’t much care for. But definitely not Laurent’s. The material in his would bore you to tears.”

I snorted, as if that surprised me. “And where would that be—so that I avoid it, I mean.” Obviously. Her mouth twitched but she pointed upstairs. I glanced that way, only briefly, not curious at all. Not even a little bit. Why would I care what that asshole likes to read?