I perch on the tub’s edge, water dripping from my skin onto the ancient stone. My entire body steams in the frigid air, yet I’m not as cold as I should be. I remember shivering uncontrollably the first few times I emerged from this bath.
Maybe I’m developing some kind of fever. Maybe that explains whatever the hell last night was.
Jesus, the things I let him do?—
My face flushes even hotter, and when I press my palms to my cheeks, they’re burning.
Am I seriously going to just sit here waiting for him to return and completely overwhelm my senses again?
I’ve never been someone who waits around passively for anything.
Growing up, when Mom tried limiting me because of my disability, it just made me furious. And ten times moredetermined to prove her wrong by doing exactly what she said I couldn’t.
Sure, I was never going to run a five-minute mile like other kids... or even a twenty-five-minute mile. But I proved I could travel independently. Hold down a job successfully. Navigate the world like any able-bodied person, even if at my own pace. I find solutions to obstacles.
I narrow my eyes with renewed determination.
Where does he disappear to when he’s not with me, anyway? Then I remember the blood staining his chest last night, and finally I shiver, though not from cold. What’s wrong with me that I forgot about all that blood enough to actually let him?—
I shake my head firmly.
He overwhelms my senses, even when he’s not physically present. Either I’m discovering some previously unknown aspect of my sexuality at twenty-five... I press both hands to my burning cheeks.
Can someone really unearth something that fundamental about themselves this late? Wouldn’t there have been signs?
I shake my head again.
The more likely explanation is that he lied. Heisdoing something to influence me. I glance toward the sink. Or maybe there’s something in the water supply.
Either way, I need more information about him. I’m operating completely blind here.
Where does he even originate from? Would he give me straight answers if I asked directly?
Highly doubtful.Look how quickly he shut down my questions last night.
Plus, he’s clearly sensitive about whatever’s happening in that basement.
Dungeon, I correct myself.
Another shiver runs through me.
Mind made up to take action—any action—I hurry from the bathroom. And by action, I don’t mean tidying this disaster of a bedroom. That’s obviously pointless.
Even though I’m not feeling as cold today, I grab one of the smaller pelts from the foot of the bed—one that still appears relatively clean—and wrap it around myself like a cloak.
A glance through the window shows the same blustery conditions, snow thick on the ground. I can’t spot that distant glint around the lake I noticed before, but it’s daylight, so I shouldn’t expect to. I refuse to second-guess what I saw.
After last night...
My chest tightens. After losing control so completely...
If there’s one quality I’ve always valued about myself, it’s my self-control. If he can reduce me to that state so easily...
I shudder and pull the small pelt tighter, though it barely covers anything essential. It’s basically a decorative cape that leaves most of me exposed.
Heat builds anyway as I hurry toward the great hall.
This sudden impulse to explore feels reckless. I don’t even know his location, so I keep all my senses alert as I move.
