“Too hot?”
Carmine hadn’t been paying attention to anything except him, so it took a second for her to process what he said. When his eyes snapped back up to give her another scowly, impatient look, she shook her head.
“You tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” he ordered in that gruff, mean voice. It was entirely at odds with how gently helowered her feet into the warm water. It wasn’t even steaming. Just a pleasant, lukewarm temperature. It still stung a little, but not much.
When her feet were fully submerged, he sat back on his haunches and glared up at her from under thick brows. “I need a yes on that, Carmine. It’s important.”
She blinked at him. “Why?”
For a split second, it looked like the skin of his face was pulled too tight over his skull. His upper lip slid over his fangs and his eyes went hard and dark. “Are you asking me why it’s important you acknowledge when I give you an order or are you asking me— Carmine, tell me you’re not asking me why it’s important that you say so when you’re uncomfortable.”
Well, how did he expect her to answer? It wasn’t the first thing, and he said he didn’t want her to tell him the second one, which was the truth, so she settled on silence.
That seemed to be answer enough. Atticus cursed and slapped one of those heavy, tattooed hands over his eyes. “Those motherfuckers.” He took a deep breath and dragged his hand down over his mouth. “Okay. Right. We need to get some shit straight, you and me.”
That sounded bad. Carmine watched him warily. He said he wasn’t her groom, and she was reasonably confident that whoever that man was, he wouldn’t want to receive his bride damaged. Atticusprobablywouldn’t punish her. At least, not in any meaningful way. Maybe he’d take her synth away if she displeased him. That was okay. That happened plenty of times in the crypt. She could go at least a week before it became unbearable.
He watched her feet, those intense eyes following the slow swirl of dirt and blood as the water soaked the filth off. “I’m Atticus. I was hired to transport some cargo into the EVP. I hadno idea that it was— thatyouwere the cargo. I never would have agreed to it if I did.”
Carmine listened carefully, her focus roving around his face. For someone so hard-looking, she thought Atticus was very expressive. He didn’t hide behind a thick layer of makeup and he wasn’t dead. It was a nice change.
Atticus looked up again, caught her staring, and an expression a little bit like pain crossed his face. His voice came out slightly more strained than before when he said, “I’m gonna ask you some questions, okay? I need you to be honest with me. I can’t help you if you’re not honest.”
Help me?She eyed him up and down. He’d been hired by her groom. Carmine liked the look of him, and might have been able to buy his story that he didn’t know what he was doing, but she wasn’t stupid enough to trust him.
Nowhere and noonewas safe. Not for a blood bride.
When she didn’t say anything, Atticus pursed his lips. “Why’ve you gone all quiet?”
“I’m not used to talking,” she admitted. “We’re not supposed to.”
Silence. Obedience. Purity.The three tenets of Grim’s blood brides.
A stolen whisper during worship, a quick update from the office staff, answered questions during their lessons — that was about all the brides could expect if they wanted to speak with someone. Mostly, Carmine spoke in her mind. It was always safe to say things there. And to the dead.
Chapter Four
It wasa shock to feel Atticus’s gentle hand cup the back of her calf. He gave it a small squeeze when he ground out, “Fuck that. I want to hear you speak with that pretty voice. You don’t have to wait for me to ask you a question, but when I do, I expect an answer, okay? That way I can know for sure that you’re all right. Do you understand?”
It was instinct to simply nod, but when he raised his eyebrows expectantly, she said, “I understand.”
He flashed her a smile. It was all white teeth and soft lips pulled wide and it— There was apop!in her mind, like an old-fashioned light bulb exploding, plunging everything inside her into darkness. Carmine didn’t breathe. Didn’t dare move. She didn’t want to do anything to make that smile go away.
But it did. It faded as he carefully extracted one of her feet from the bowl and began to dab it with a washcloth. “Are you venom neutral?”
“Yes.” It seemed like a silly question. Of course she was. No vampire would want her otherwise. In another world, she was born luckier. That Carmine would have potent venom, and she’d never have to worry about being hunted or popping out a groom’s offspring on command.
“Figured,” Atticus muttered. He stood, fetched and filled another bowl, before he knelt again to begin rinsing her feet. It hurt badly enough that her eyes watered, but she didn’t dare make a sound.
“Do you have family, Carmine? Anyone you can call?”
“My family wouldn’t answer.”
They’d exchanged letters for a while, since brides weren’t allowed phones or computer access outside of lessons, but that tapered off when she was still a teen.
His fingers went a little tight on her ankle for a second before they relaxed again. “Why?”
She shrugged. “They knew they couldn’t protect me, so they gave me to the crypt. They were paid. They moved on.”
