Atticus glowered at her. His thumb curved over the edge of her jaw, stroking through makeup and dirt to reach her skin. “Don’t.”
Carmine widened her eyes, but said nothing. She was a terrible liar, so she didn’t try. Best to just look innocent and hope.
It didn’t work. Atticus clearly didn’t buy it. “Don’t give me those eyes, doll. I know you were thinking of bolting. I’m telling you:don’t.I’m gonna be pissed if I have to chase you into the sun and haul you back here. That shit could kill you.”
And if it did, her groom would be furious. Atticus would be in trouble for letting such a huge investment die such a stupid death.
He’s going to get in trouble no matter what,she tried to reason with herself.I’m not going to my groom. What does it matter?
She really didn’t want to die, but could she risk there never being another chance to bolt? What if he locked her back in the trailer and never opened the doors again?
Panic clawed at her throat and shoved words out of her mouth before she could check them. “Will I be let out again?”
Atticus’s brows furrowed. “Let out of where?”
Carmine squeezed her hands together in her lap so hard, she could feel her bones move. “The trailer.”
His face cleared, then went stormy again. He crouched low, bringing them eye to eye, and released her jaw in favor of brushing her hair back behind her ears. He was so, so close. Too close. Carmine fixed her gaze on what looked like the barrel of a tattooed gun peeking out from beneath his shirt’s collar.
“Doll, look at me.”
She was too used to following commands. It was a habit to listen.
He held her gaze, unblinking, when he promised, “I’m not putting you back in that fucking trailer. No one is. You’re safe with me. You’re gonna sleep in this bed today and then tonight we’ll figure everything out. Understand?”
She nodded.
“Words, doll.”
Carmine uncurled her lips from where she’d tucked them between her teeth. “I understand?”
A corner of his mouth kicked up. “That didn’t sound very convincing.”
She could feel the heat of her flush and hoped what remained of her makeup hid it from his too-intense eyes. “I’m a bad liar.”
“Yeah? I like that about you.” Tilting his head toward the narrow door at the far end of the kitchen area, he ordered, “Shower.”
Atticus stood up slowly. She immediately missed the heat of his body so close to her. Clearly, it’d been too long since she hada meal. Her body temperature had obviously plummeted, and that was why she wanted to press her face into his chest and just soak in all that gorgeous warmth.
She looked down at her dress and wrinkled her nose. “My clothes are in the trailer.”
He shook his head and turned to rummage in his backpack again. After a moment, he extracted what looked like a blanket. It was only when he passed it to her that she realized it was a massive, well-worn t-shirt.
His voice got impossibly raspier when he muttered, “That should hold you over until tomorrow.” He walked over to the bathroom, and since he wasn’t looking at her, she risked a quick sniff of the shirt.
Her toes curled with delight even as the roof of her mouth began to ache.Mm,she thought, watching him open the door to reveal the world’s smallest shower stall and toilet. Her stomach rumbled.He smells delicious.
Chapter Five
The shirt came downto her knees and she still felt more naked than she ever had before.
Carmine peeked out of the door warily, her face already hot. Her heart pounded within her ribcage. Atticus was impossible to miss in the small space. He sat on one of the low benches that framed the comically small table at the foot of the bed. His broad shoulders were hunched, his long coat removed. There were straps over his shoulders. It took her a second to realize he wore a gun holster. He’d pushed the sleeves of his shirt up, revealing a fascinating array of vampiric skulls and thorny vines and flowers sprayed over thick, sturdy forearms.
Atticus looked up from his phone the moment her gaze landed on him. He went preternaturally still.
Her fingers tightened around the small latch that acted as a doorknob. The heat of her blush could have rivaled the sun. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had seen her without her makeup or her veil.
Grim’s acolytes painted themselves and veiled their heads in a commitment to modesty and selflessness. All genders wore long white gowns. Jewelry, haircuts, and tattoos were forbidden.Brides especially weren’t allowed to alter their bodies in any way that wasn’t pre-approved by the matron in charge of their care.
