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“You could try to hurt us, Astrid. I’d like to prove just how futile that would be,” Slade snaps, his deep voice cracking like a whip.
I swallow, refusing to be intimidated by these assholes. They might have the upper hand right now, but I know how easily the power balance can shift.
“What’s the matter, little girl? Cat got your tongue?”
I turn my head and look at Slade, who seems to be having way too much fun baiting me.
“Why do I think you want me to claw your face off? Is it so your pretty outside can match your ugly inside? You might fool everyone else, but I can see past that smile of yours and see there is something fucked-up inside of you. There’s a part of you that wants to hurt me, and for what? Trying to help? You can paint me as the bad guy all you want, but I’ve done nothing but come here and try to help. All you have done is remind me that there is no such thing as a good deed or good guys.”
That shuts him up, and an uncomfortable silence descends on the room. I have to fight the urge to fidget, not wanting either of them to see me squirm.
“Let me show you the room you’ll be using.” Jagger takes my hand, making me jolt as he pulls me away from Slade. I look down at it and frown, but I don’t pull away. I didn’t expect the gentle way in which he reached for me after the way I’ve been handled so far. It’s disconcerting and makes it harder to keep my anger from fading.
I let him lead me through the room to the door on the far left. When he opens it, it reveals a hallway with four more doors, two on the left and two on the right. The closest one on the right leads to the bathroom—which Jagger quickly shows me—the one opposite it leads outside, and the remaining two at the far end of the hall are their bedrooms. My heartbeat picks up, knowing I’ll be staying in one of their rooms.
Even though I pretended not to be paying attention to them earlier, I know one of them will be in the room with me while I sleep, watching over me so I can’t run away or pull off the nefarious plan they’re convinced I’ve cooked up.
“This is Slade’s room.” He holds the door open and shows me the room. Before I can take much in, he closes it and leads me to the last door on the left.
“This one is mine. You’ll be staying in here for the time being. There are clothes in the dresser and closet if you need anything until your stuff gets here. The bathroom is through there.” He points, but I’m still taking in the large bed beside the window with its deep green covers and navy-blue throw. On the cherry wood floor is a navy rug, and in the corner, next to a floor-standing lamp and a small end table, is a reading chair with another navy throw tossed over the back of it. The walls are a rich cream with abstract artwork in various shades of green and gold hanging in solid black frames.
It might look effortlessly masculine, but I can tell a woman had her hand in making it look this way. For a start, I’ve never in my life met a man who bought a throw.
Jagger watches me, my eyes skimming over the dresser and the door to the closet before I make my way over to the bathroom. I glance around the black and white tiled room, noting the shower is ridiculously huge. It’s clean and tidy, and everything is minimalist, unlike my bathroom at home, which is cluttered with creams and makeup and shit I don’t need, though I swear I do.
“You want something to eat?”
I turn my head and look up at him, blinking. “Funnily enough, no. Being held captive tends to mess with my appetite.”
“Been held captive often, then?” Jagger chuckles darkly as he steps closer to the bathroom.
I back away, keeping some distance between us. “More times than I care to admit. So, why don’t you tell me how this is going to play out? Are you two doing the whole good cop/bad cop thing on me? Because if you are, I’ll save you the trouble and tell you right now it won’t work. I won’t trust either of you. Why would I when you’re holding me hostage?”
“You’re not a hostage. We’re just holding you until we find out the information we need,” Jagger states, crossing his arms.
“So, you’re holding me against my will until you get what you want. Hate to break it to you, but that’s the very definition of a hostage. And just saying, I’ve told you what you need to know. You’re just not listening.”
Laughter has me whirling around to see Slade standing in the bedroom doorway. He stalks toward me with the lethal grace of a panther. “So brave.” He grins, reaching out to touch a strand of my hair, but I slap his hand away.
He chuckles again, and something about it seems a little unhinged.
“It’s a good act, but I’ve seen better. Plus”—he leans down, his lips a hair’s breadth from my cheek, making my heart thud loudly in my chest— “I can smell your fear,” he murmurs before stepping back. That mask of indifference slips back down over his face.
I glare at him, my hands fisted at my sides. “Of course I’m scared. I’m not insane like you. Besides, I’m a woman locked up with two strange men who look like they’d have no problem hurting me. In fact, I think you’d enjoy it. But sure, let’s just pretend that I’m the one at fault here.”
I give up arguing with them. What’s the point? Everyone is so quick to make up their mind about me. I’m sick and tired of trying to convince people that I’m a good person. If they want to think the worst of me, then fuck them, that’s what I’ll give them.
“Slade,” Jagger says, but Slade continues to stare at me for what feels like forever before finally turning to his friend.
“Go put some coffee on and see if E has found anything else while I make sure Astrid is settled.”
Slade cocks his eyebrow at that. “You gonna help her change?”
Jagger narrows his eyes at Slade, who seems to shake himself out of it. He doesn’t apologize for being a dick, though. I suppose I should find comfort in the fact that he’s an asshole to everyone, but I don’t. I’m a firm believer that kindness doesn’t cost a thing. Though, saying that, I’m happy to give out sarcastic quips for free too. Hardly surprising after a lifetime of dealing with people who were mean just because they could be.
No matter how many times we moved when I was a kid or how many schools I went to, it always came down to the same two groups: the bullies and the bullied. Because of my…quirks, I tended to end up in the later one. When people realized I just didn’t give a fuck anymore, they mostly left me alone. There was a limit to what they would do. They might not like me, but they knew my family was richer than most of theirs combined, and in the world of the elite, money was power. They could hurt me with their nasty words, hold me down and beat the snot out of me, but I’d heal. What my lawyer could do to them—and not just them but their whole families—was bankrupt them. To the socially vapid vampires I went to school with, that was a fate worse than death. Unfortunately, anyone who wanted to befriend me was fair game. I wasn’t willing to make someone a target by association, which left me pretty much alone. Sure, being alone could be soul-destroying at times, but I refused to ruin someone else’s high school experience by being tarred with the same brush as me. I left people alone, and they left me alone.
And then the incident happened, and everything changed.
