AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Closing my eyes, I know it’s dangerous to let my guard down, but I can’t help it. The first second of real relaxation has me seconds away from passing out. Of course, I know these men want something more from me than killing me in my sleep, so I allow my guard to drop for a second.
Fool that I am.
I hear the door seconds before it registers in my head, and I’m sitting up and flailing to find a washcloth to cover myself. I spy it sitting too far away, so I scoop the bubbles close as the smirking redhead enters the room.
I can hear my heart thundering in my ears in time with the click of his boot heels on the tile, and I can’t tear my gaze away from the little smirk playing at his full lips. His light eyes are narrowed on me, his gingery lashes almost glinting in the soft light of the bathroom.
He looks innocent and sweet, except I know better. I know from the scar across his throat and the ones that slice through the freckles on his arms that he’s not to be trusted. I know they aren’t going to kill me just yet, but it’s on me entirely for not thinking that I might be in danger in other ways.
Especially as he eyes me with the look of a starving man.
“Did you need something?” I demand.
He says nothing…because of course he says nothing. His fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to sign, but James must have told him I don’t know more than the alphabet and a couple of phrases because he doesn’t.
It’s almost a standoff between us, the way he stares me down in the middle of the floor, and then suddenly, it’s like someone hit un-pause on his body because he moves faster than I expect.
My breath catches in my throat as he drops to his knees by the side of the tub and reaches for me. I tense, prepared to fight him, but all he does is seize my wrist and lift it out of the water. I can see him studying me, and I don’t understand for a long time.
Then he clicks his tongue like he’s disappointed, and his hand darts out, snatching up the washcloth from the side of the bamboo bench.
“Thank—” I start, but he snorts and shakes his head.
Don’t thank me, his body language says.
I swallow thickly and bite the words back as I watch him grab one of the bottles filled with pearly soap, and he dips the cloth into the water, then scrubs it between his hands until it lathers and bubbles. He takes my arm again and begins to gently rub me clean. I don’t know what the hell to make of this. He’s clearly deranged and would probably just as soon drag a sharp knife over my carotid artery than he would read me a bedtime story.
And yet, his touch not only feels gentle, but there’s something almost protective in the way he cleans me off. Almost like the dirt on my skin offends him.
“Ariel,” I say as he scrubs the rough cloth over my back. He stiffens for a second, then gives me a tap like he’s telling me he’s listening. “It’s an unusual name.”
He pulls back and shakes his head and mouths something I’m pretty sure is ‘Not.’
So maybe it isn’t where he comes from. Who the hell knows. He looks like he was plucked straight out of some wild Irish folklore with that hair and freckled skin and ice-blue eyes. He reminds me of the fae, sweet and kind, but only because they’re waiting for the most opportune moment to pull your tongue from your mouth.
And if I’m being honest with myself, it turns me on a little. Again, I mentioned fucked-up, right? If I close my eyes and picture Ariel destroying anyone who ever hurt me, it makes me all hot between my legs, so I don’t let myself linger in that fantasy of him choosing to do violence for me instead of to me.
It takes me a second to realize that Ariel’s pulled back, and I look up in the doorway to find a shadow hovering there. It’s either James or Kane by the way Ariel looks like he wants to throw a punch. Kane might be God here, but Ariel seems like the kind of man who would fight any deity to get what he wants.
After a beat, though, Ariel stands up and backs away. He looks at me one more time, lifting one hand to sign something, and then he’s gone. I listen for a second set of footsteps to follow, but there aren’t any.
“Would you be very offended if I joined you for a moment, darling?”
It’s James. I breathe out a quiet sigh, then shake my head. “Might as well. I’m starting to learn there’s no such thing as privacy here.”
He laughs as he steps in, surprising me entirely because he’s wearing black lounge pants and a white T-shirt so thin I can see tattoos and nipple rings through the fabric. He’s got his long curls tied in a bun high on his head, and right then, he looks very young—like he could be any emo dude on campus.
“You have no idea,” he says. He walks toward the tub and takes up Ariel’s previous spot, though he’s taller when he sits. “Every single room in this house is rigged with cameras.”
“Even the toilets?”
“If you think a little pissing and shitting offend us,” James says, but he doesn’t finish the thought, and I don’t need him to. He stares at me for another long second, cocking his head to the side. “Would you like to have your hair washed?”
I had been planning on hopping in the shower after my bath to give it a good scrub and to condition it. I have hair just like my mother—thick, slightly wavy, and very coarse. I only wash it a few times a month, but after everything it’s been through in that basement? Yeah, it could use a little pampering.
Maybe then at least I’ll look put together in my open casket.
“What are you thinking about, darling?” James murmurs. He reaches for the shampoo bottle on the bamboo bench and then a smaller amber bottle with a label in Italian.
