“It would seem so,” he says playfully. He allows me time to finish my slice before engaging in any more awkward conversation. After eating three whole slices, I place my empty plate on the table and sit back, crossing my legs over one another.
“So, Sloane. Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, sitting back and spreading his arms out over the back of the sofa.
Talk about what? I think. Like the fact that you nearly killed a man for touching me? Or, what about the way you made me come with your fingers inside of me after catching me in the forest while I screamed your name? No? Then perhaps we couldtalk about what’s hiding in that mysterious box in your mask drawer?
But I don’t say any of those things. Instead, I say, “You first.”
He chuckles. “Okay, fine. Look, I’m sorry about that guy at the show. He had his hands all over you, and I was only looking out for your safety. The devil only knows what he was going to do to you.” I wish I could see his face, read his emotions. It feels like there’s more to it than that.
“It’s fine. And you’re probably right. I’m sure he was planning to sex traffic me across the country to his high lords who were lying in wait. Maybe feed me to their pet tiger,” I deadpan. He stiffens at my words.
“Sloane.” It sounds more like a warning than a name. I stare at him, wondering if he’ll follow through on that attitude threat if I …
He interrupts my dangerous thoughts with, “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I ask honestly.
“Devalue your worth, play everything off as a joke,” he answers.
“I’m sorry?” That’s all I can manage to say back to the unexpected response.
“Good. Now, your turn.” He traces patterns on the back of the sofa with his lengthy fingers. The same fingers that were inside of me mere minutes ago. I find myself staring at them for way longer than a person should stare at someone’s fingers. He clears his throat, forcing my gaze back to him.
“I—I was coming back inside to check on you. But it wasn’tonlythat,” I say, as he continues tracing lazy patterns on the sofa.
He responds with a single, “Oh?” while maintaining a posture of indifference.
“Yeah. Something … something was pulling at me to come back in. I’m not even sure what I planned to do once I got to you.All I know is that in that moment, Ineededto get to you,” I say, fiddling with my hands in my lap.
“Hmmm, that’s funny. Because I could say the same thing about you, Sloane.” I hate the way my name coming out of his mouth makes the butterflies in my stomach do somersaults.
“Oh?” I ask, repeating his words back to him. I need to see his face so bad. I don’t want to dishonor his wishes to remain anonymous, though. If he wanted me to see him, he’d let me.
“Mhm,” he murmurs.
“Okay, then,” I say, laying my head on the back of the sofa. “A question for a question?” I ask.
He stares at me, considering. “Fine. You first,” he says.
“Why do you do it?” I ask.
“Do what?”
“The music, the mask, Sonus. All of it,” I reply.
“Hmm. That sounds like more than one question, Sloane,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “What will you give me in return?”
I stop breathing for a fraction of a second before inserting my foot straight into my mouth. “Whatever you want.”
He lets out a low, grumbled laugh. “Little nightmare. Do not make deals with the devil. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?”
“And are you … the devil, then? And why do you keep calling me that?” I ask.
“Hmmm, I guess you’ll have to stick around and find out for yourself.”
I laugh, lifting my head from the sofa. He reaches over and brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I pause, taken aback by the unexpected contact and the sudden charge of tension in the air. My lips part as I suck in a low, quiet breath. He pulls his hand away and continues the conversation like it never happened.
“Anyway, your questions. I’ll answer them at no cost.” He pauses for a moment. The silence seems to stretch on forever before he speaks again.
