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No, just poison.
To my horror, I nearly said it out loud.Shit.
“No, I just thought you might like another,” I just barely slipped in.
“Where were you born?” His brow dipped inquisitively. The question was random, but I presumed this was his attempt at small talk.
Lie, a voice coaxed in my mind.
“I don’t know the place of my birth,” I replied honestly—too honestly.
“Do you not have living parents to tell you?”
Lie, the voice demanded this time.
“I never met them.”I had no control over my tongue.I was starting to feel light-headed, a bit drunk even, like I was the one who had shot back that glass of whiskey, not him.
“Then who raised you?” he inquired further, his gaze piercing.
“A woman who took me in.” I nearly clamped my hands over my traitorous mouth—I’d clearly poisoned myself with Ezra’s truth tonic. I needed to direct the questions to him before he delved any further. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but is my history what you brought me here for?”
“I would rather your history than to sit here alone with my thoughts,” he replied as he leaned back against the tub, relaxing in the steaming waters.
“I don’t understand. I presumed you would want to do otherthings.” I dared to lift my gaze to his, allowing just the right amount of lust to saturate my eyes.
He ran his fingers through his wild, red hair. “I come here because it is the only place I can get some peace from the steady workings of the castle.”
“Then you don’t—”
He cut me off. “No. I come here to these private rooms for peace. And in exchange, I play the part, select one of you, but then I do not ask for any services. Ever. Most of the girls sleep while I sit alone with my thoughts.”
“But the madame, she thinks you—how doesn’t she know?”
“My coffers run a lot deeper than hers. I offer the girls a good deal of coin for their silence and they play along. Over time, their stories have spun the belief that I like a certain scent, a specific hair color—that I have a type.” He looked like he might roll his eyes.
I was almost starting to feel bad about what I was going to do to him, although with this new admission, kissing him was becoming a bigger obstacle than I originally thought it would be.
“So when they doused me in the scent of roses and gardenia, that was for nothing?” I asked as I sat on the edge of the tub.
He chuckled. “I find the white gardenia flower quite pleasant, but I’m not a fan of the scent of roses.”
“And the preference for brunettes?”
“I find blondes and brunettes equally attractive, but . . .” He leaned forward, the water sloshing to the sides. Thick, calloused fingers gently grasped one of my curls. “This unique color, I hold a particular fondness for.”
“Oh?” I asked.
He nodded, letting the curl slip from his fingers, and leaned back against the metal tub. “It reminds me of someone I once knew.”
“Where is this person now?” I asked, unable to stop myself.
“She is no longer of this world, her memory a ghost, always haunting me,” he said, his chest expanding as he inhaled a deep, steady breath.
I could sense the yearning in him—for this woman who I thought might be a past lover of his. And if I wore her hair, perhaps I could use this power over him.
My vision was becoming cloudy, although my purpose was clear. With my gaze on him, I slowly dipped my foot into the water, testing to see what he would do.
He watched.
