Page 38 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

When was the last time she’d been helpless? Could she even remember a time? She’d never quite find herself in the same situation as the women in these books. A tiny pang twisted my chest. I could hardly fathom what it was like to be her, to be an ancient vampire with unmatched strength.

“I almost feel guilty for throwing my feminism out the window every time I pick one of these up,” I added, smiling at her.

She merely chuckled, then set the book down to stare at me. “You know, darling, I look at you and almost see this sort of woman.” She shook the book at me. I scoffed, because as indulgent as these stories were, I wasn’t interested in being helpless. She hesitated, perhaps reading my expression. “Laurent has been cold for a very, very long time. But he wasn’t always that way. Sometimes I wonder…”

I waited.

“Sometimes I wonder if he’s ready to pass on,” she admitted. My brows furrowed. “Old vampires—ancient vampires—they reach a point where sex loses its luster. The enjoyment of life goes next. Then blood. When that time comes, they discover there’s nothing else to live for. I worry Laurent is close to that.”

“He does seem like a cold asshole,” I muttered. “It’s the soulless eyes.”

She laughed.

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of…something, deep in my chest. Despite my complicated feelings toward him, I almost pitied him. To feel like life was no longer worth living, to simply wish to give up…

“I’ve been fighting all my life,” I found myself saying. “I’ve been through a lot of really shitty stuff, but I’ve always found so many reasons for living.”

“I didn’t lie when I said things were going to get more interesting now that you are here.” She lifted her brows. “Come, let’s get you sorted.”

I wasn’t sure how to take her meaning, but I nodded and followed her into her giant closet. I should have been prepared for what she revealed. Still, I pulled in a gasp of air.

“My friend Ania would lose her shit, literally lose it, seeing your collection.”

Racks of shoes, purses, gowns. There was even a giant mirror with a pedestal across from a circular padded seat. Which she pushed me down onto before riffling through gowns.

“Now,” she said, “what we need is something that will make you stand out⁠—“

“No. Absolutely not. The last time I tried to stand out, look where it got me. Right here. No.”

“Oh, darling, I can promise you it wasn’t how you were dressed that landed you here.” She pulled a gown free. “This one.”

I sighed and stood, taking it from her. I no longer felt shy around her, so I stripped out of my leggings and T-shirt. I’d been going barefoot since I still needed some shoes. I probably could have asked Zola to order me some. With my tall frame, I was a size nine and a half to her eight.

“I suppose I shouldn’t wear a bra with this one,” I said, studying it.

“No need, darling. You’re endowed, but not that endowed.”

I snorted, slipping into the gown. It was black and silver and accented my black hair beautifully. The back was open and dipped low where the zipper stopped right above my lowest vertebrae. The narrow straps held everything up. The front was modest, with a blunt straight neckline just above my breasts. It hugged my body, flaring just below my hips.

“It accents your curves nicely.”

“Which is a great way of saying it’s a bit tight in the ass. You’ve got a narrower bone structure than me.”

“You’ll manage. The fabric is stretchy. Now, let’s accessorize and figure out your hair.”

She led me back into her main room, sat me down at a vanity, then spent the next thirty minutes fussing over my hair. A necklace of diamonds—I was certain they were real—was draped about my neck, with earrings to match. Then she did my makeup.

Teenage me was literally doing her happy dance.

“Whoa,” I said, looking at the full effect when she was done. Even despite the white bandage, I looked pretty. “You can’t even tell my shoulders are so broad.”

“No, the gown hides it nicely.”

I appreciated that she was honest. I stared at my dark tresses, done up with a few wisps framing my jaw. My eyes were smoky, making their color pop.

“Thank you,” I breathed. Because the way she’d fussed over me for the last two hours felt like something I’d craved for my entire childhood.

Unlike me, she didn’t need any primping. She was already gorgeous. And just to make me feel better, she went barefoot, too. “We are in our own home, after all.”