My lips move. Oh no. I think I’m pouting. I don’t pout. This is awful.
“Kiss me first!” I whine.
Please just kill me now. Somebody. Anybody. I can not possibly be expected to survive this humiliation.
“You are not in your right mind,” says Tristan kindly. “I’ve learnt all about consent.”
My pout intensifies. “It is a truth serum. I am speaking the truth!”
He tenderly brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “Sometimes we are not ready for the truth.”
My pout turns into a frown. Motherfucker. Why does he have to be so nice? And why does he have to say sappy shit that makes me go all swoony?
Tristan chuckles again.
Oh, fuck my life. I said all of that out loud, didn’t I? This truth serum is the absolute worst.
He leans down and brushes his lips gently over my forehead. “Have a lovely nap, little nisny.”
I watch helplessly as he walks away and draws the curtains, casting the room into shadow.
It is toasty and warm in here, and the furs are so very soft. My belly is full of cheese. Damn it. Maybe a nap isn’t a terrible idea. I yawn as he walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
I’ll just have to get my revenge when I wake up. Nap first. Chaos later. It is a marvellous plan. Might even be the best one I have ever had.
I yawn again, close my eyes and let sleep take me.
Chapter eleven
“How about some cheese?” says Tristan.
“No! Go away!” I snap vehemently, but it is a bit muffled by all the blankets I’m buried under, and it loses some of its force.
Tristan sighs, and I know that is a sign to brace myself. Because, so far, whenever I have said no to him, he has simply manhandled me into doing whatever he wants. Therefore, any moment now, he is going to grab my ankle or some other part of me and yank me out of bed.
The soft thud of the door closing startles me. He has left? He is not going to force me out of this bed? My heart races and my mind swims in confusion. I can’t tell if I’m disappointed or relieved. On one hand, I really don’t want to face him after the whole truth serum mortification. On the other hand, having him just walk out like that, feels an awful lot like abandonment.
When the hell did I become such an attention seeking, needy brat?When someone actually noticed you and gave you attention and you realised how starved you were for it.My rational mind helpfully supplies. Well, I can go fuck myself. I don’t need that kind of deep reflection in my life. Not now, and not ever.
The sound of the door opening again has me frantically checking that I’m still completely covered by the blankets, while at the same time, a stupid, disgusting hope bubbles through me. Oh my god, I am such a mess.
Footsteps pad softly towards me and my heart sinks. It is not Tristan. I can never hear that motherfucker move.
“Hi!” says a far too bright, far too cheery, suspiciously human sounding voice. “I’m Jamie. I wanted to meet you days ago but Tristan kept making excuses.”
Oh my stars. I am not in the mood for being gawped at. Or for making small talk. Or pretending to be friendly. I just want to be alone to wallow in my misery. Is being allowed to die from embarrassment in peace, too much to ask for?
“When I first arrived here, I was so scared,” the voice says.
I ignore him and burrow deeper into the blankets. Hopefully, he will get bored soon and go away. Not least because it is getting damn hot and stuffy under here. I’m starting to sweat like a pig and my nose is running. For now, I’ll just have to sniff it up and hope for the best.
“Oh!” exclaims the voice softly. “You’re crying? Oh you poor little thing! It is going to be okay. I won’t let Tristan scare you anymore.”
What the fuck? Scared? Me? Outrageous! I’m angry and humiliated and confused, but I’m not scared. Is that what this stupid human thinks? Is that what Tristan thinks? Did hiding under the blankets give him completely the wrong idea?
Oh god. It did. Didn’t it? That’s why he hasn’t simply dragged me out yet and forced me to eat cheese. He thinks I’m scared.Of him!
“I’m not fucking scared!” I bellow as I throw the blankets off.
