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"You're not squeamish already, are you-"
"I'm fine. I just can't thread it."
He smiles and holds the needle up to me as I walk to him, my thighs resting in between his legs. This shouldn't feel comfortable. I'm about to stitch a gunshot wound on the man who's been holding me hostage. No part of this should feel comfortable, but it does.
"It's already threaded."
I nod and he grabs alcohol and swabs from the drawer. I press a swab in the solution and stop a few inches away from the wound.
"This will hurt. Hang onto the sink."
He nods and grips the sink, his face only wincing slightly when I press the swab to his wound so I can clean it. As soon as I pull it away, I look to him to see if he's ready for the needle. He raises an eyebrow again and I narrow my eyes before pressing the needle into his skin and begin stitching the wound. He lets out a short growl and I smile widely.
"Enjoying yourself?" I nod in response.
"Maybe you should get shot more often. I like this as my revenge."
He narrows his eyes on my lip as I bite it in concentration. Once the wound is sealed, I cut the thread and clean the needle in the sink. I tape a bandage to the stitched wound to cover it, give him an awkward thumbs up and begin to walk away. I'm in the doorway when he speaks to me.
"It's almost midnight. Meet me in the dining hall and we'll have a glass of whiskey for your celebration. And so I can numb this bullshit."
My fingers wrap around the doorframe and I bite back a smile. I give him a short nod and walk out of his room and towards the dining hall. I shouldn't feel excited, but I am.
Once I reach the dining hall, I take a seat on the floor, facing the fireplace and let the heat of the flames gently lick my skin. I hear the clock chime. It's midnight.
I'm spending my twenty-first birthday in the dining hall of a murderer. I should be crying in frustration right now, or lying in bed counting the minutes until I'm free. Instead, I'm letting the butterflies in my stomach flutter away at the thought of sitting alone with the dark prince himself.
I feel him in the doorway before I see him. His presence is thick and all consuming. His hair is wet from a shower, and I want to fall asleep to the rich and dark scent of him.
He's a drug, this man. He's more powerful and lethal than any substance he could possibly obtain in his lifetime. He's the biggest addiction of all and that's the only reason he terrifies me.
He's in a dark grey t-shirt that's tucked into his black slacks. His shoes are still shiny and expensive looking. Even after getting shot, he's still perfect. I see the thick veins of his arm bulge as he pours two glass tumblers of whiskey from a crystal canister.
He walks over to me and stands beside me so closely that my shoulder grazes his thigh. His arm is hanging with the glass of whiskey, offering it to me. My fingers close over the glass, and I take it while he sits in the chair beside me. I cross my legs on the floor as I take my first sip. It burned immediately, but I swallowed without coughing.
It was smooth yet biting. I've never tasted anything like it and it had me sipping more, savoring the flavor. I feel him watching me closely, the heat of his stare hotter than the fireplace before us.
"I may have created a monster." He half smiles and nods in the direction of the glass to my lips. I stared at him as I took another sip and spoke.
"I think you created a monster long before the whiskey." He raised an eyebrow at me and sat back in his chair. leg crossed over the knee as usual. Looking casual and dominant all at once. His legs are so thick and long, I can't stop staring at them.
"Penny for your thoughts, pequeña?"
I blink up at him and wet my lips, resting my nearly empty glass on the floor by my feet.
"Why do you call me that? We both know I'm not little. I've more than shown you throughout my life that I've been a woman for a long, long time."
My voice is steady and I thank the whiskey. I'm already feeling looser and more comfortable with my body and thoughts, which isn't necessarily a good thing near him. He savors my words for a moment. I see him tossing them around in his head.
"Because to this world, Esmeralda, you are little." My eyes narrow and he immediately picks up on my sudden change in mood, sitting up and resting his forearms on his knees. He's so fucking golden that he glows in the firelight.
"To this world, you are new and fresh and innocent. And any person in this world is more than ready to taint you, to rip away your innocence with their very teeth."
His voice is dark and threatening, looking over me like a cloud. He's so oblivious, isn't he?
"I lost my innocence a long time ago, Dante. I lost it when I’d gone without eating at age five, or seeing my mother overdosed on the living room carpet a year later. I lost my innocence when I was born into this world."
He's silent and staring into the fire. I take another sip of whiskey and keep going.
