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Her eyebrows practically disappear into her hairline. “Pardon?”
“Your clothes, Mercedes. I think it’s best there are no reminders of this night. Tomorrow, like Santiago said, you will start anew.”
She glances at the matronly woman standing nearby, the witness to her humiliation, then to me.
“Is this some sort of joke? Because it’s not funny.”
“No. No joke. Your clothes.”
“My brother would not allow this!”
“Your brother initiated the Rite. You’re mine. I will decide what is best for you. You will simply obey.”
She snorts.
“Do you need help?”
“I want to talk to him. Get him on the phone. Now!”
She takes a step toward the door. I grab her arm before she can take another. She tries to shrug me off, but I turn her to face me fully and shift my hands to her shoulders. Her hands close over my forearms, and she stares up at me. Her long black hair hangs loose around her face and over her shoulders, revealing a softness I’ve only ever caught glimpses of. She hides herself well.
“Why are you here, Mercedes?”
Her jaw clenches. She knows exactly why she’s here. What she’s done. Her eyes dart over my shoulder, tears on the verge of falling, but she refuses to allow that. Instead, she narrows her gaze, glaring up at me. That softness from moments ago is gone.
“Why are you here?” I repeat.
After a long moment of weighted silence, she finally breaks the lock of our eyes and lowers her gaze. A fat tear drops onto the back of my hand. I watch it, and for a moment, I forget myself. Forget the point of this. The reason for it.
For a moment, I want to pull her to me and tell her it will be all right.
But Miriam clears her throat and catapults me back into the why of this.
“Answer me,” I say and pause.
Mercedes turns angry eyes to mine. “Fuck. You.”
My hands flex, fingers tightening on her arms. This woman will test me. I take a deep breath in and smile. Because this is exactly why she’s here.
“You’ll remain in this room until you can answer that question. Now,” I start, releasing her and stepping away. “Do you need Miriam to help you undress?”
“No,” she spits and clumsily tugs at the sweatshirt, getting it tangled in her hair as she pulls it off and throws it at me. It hits my chest, then drops to the floor.
I don’t take my eyes from hers as she continues with the pants, bouncing on one foot, daggers cutting me through as she holds my gaze and strips them off, balls them up, and throws the ill-fitting pants at me too.
“Satisfied?” she asks, straightening to stand at her full height. Not covering herself.
Unable to stop my gaze from sweeping over her, I swallow, taking in all that skin, the scraps of lace barely covering full breasts, the slit of her sex. I push my hands into my pockets, clenching them into fists, nails digging into my palms. My jaw tightens as I remind myself who she is. Remind myself that this little monster needs me to remain in control. To not be undone by the sight of her nearly naked.
I drag my gaze slowly back up to hers and see that her hands, too, are clenched and her cheeks flushed with color.
“Continue,” I say, my voice thick.
Her mouth opens, her short breaths audible as she gazes from me to Miriam and back. “I think it’s enough. I think my brother—”
“Miriam,” I say, neither moving nor taking my eyes from Mercedes.
Miriam moves into action, striding toward Mercedes in three quick steps. Mercedes gasps, clearly not expecting this, and when the older woman raises her arms to strip the rest of her clothes, Mercedes grips her wrists hard. She’s stronger than I realized. But Miriam is as strong and as determined. It’s why I chose her.
