“Are you comfortable in that?” Beck gestured to my clothes and near-bare feet.
While the asphalt burned my soles, I felt cold everywhere else. Sweating, shivering, and completely unmoored, I didn’t know where to go or what to say to the man who’d just paid thirty thousand dollars for a single day of my time.
“I’m… comfortable,” I managed.
Earlier this week, I’d taken my first real step beyond the Strip-side borders of the Devil’s Dollhouse. It had been a good day, and I’d let myself think, maybe too much, about the next time I might get away. I hadn’t expected it to come so soon. And I definitely hadn’t expected it to be with Beck.
Even more than that, I hadn’t expected to be summoned to Maslow’s office, humiliated, then sold off for a jaw-dropping sum.
No, not sold. I still belonged to the Dollhouse, and my soul was still bound to the wraith.
I owed a debt of gratitude, which would be paid in servitude.
Maslow didn’t answer for how long, but he had implied. As long as he saw fit, which was either forever or not long enough because I would never willingly return to Hell.
Beck stood stiffly, and I imagined if he’d been in his demon form, his tail would be thrashing. His eyes were bright gold in the daylight, glinting as they darted around.
The limo was parked a short distance away, conspicuous as the only car in the lot, and accompanied by Beck’s associate, Colette. She pushed away from her post beside the Lincoln’s hood and started toward us.
“What are you gonna do to me?” I asked Beck while we still had the benefit of privacy.
He blinked, perturbed, but his gaze softened when it met mine. “I have no fucking clue. Maybe get lunch?” He turned toward the hellhound fast approaching. “Coll, what sounds good to eat? Somewhere with a vegetarian menu.”
He remembered.
It was a silly thing, but it felt important.
I smiled faintly, and my full-body tremors began to subside. I didn’t truly believe Beck would take Maslow’s suggestion and sell me on the Strip, but that office had been thick with truths and threats, and now I felt more exposed than ever. Vulnerable in a way I hadn’t expected.
“Botanique is open,” Colette read from her phone where she must have searched for restaurants. “They have plenty of meatless options.”
Her focus shifted from the cell to me, and her red lips curved in a smile. “Bonjour, mon petit! Off for an adventure?”
There was that language again. Like music. A song I knew from long ago.
“He’s off until this time tomorrow,” Beck said.
Colette’s brows lifted. “And then?”
I waited for Beck’s eyes to find mine again, but they went instead to the club’s entrance. “Then I have to bring him back.”
“Mmm,” Colette hummed. “So, he’s spendingallthat time with you?” She gave me a wink. “That’s not a date; it’s a test of endurance.”
Beck frowned while my heart thumped a little harder.
Wasit a date?
My feet were starting to burn through my aerial boots, and I shuffled side to side.
Beck noticed, and his brow furrowed. “Well, I hardly expect you toendureall day in bare feet. Shoes first. Then lunch.”
I shifted once more, flexing my toes and watching the polish sparkle, when suddenly Beck’s arms were around me. I yelped in surprise as he scooped me into a cradle carry against his chest.
“Ooh la la,” Colette sang while following us toward the limo.
The thump of my heart became a stampede, and I hugged onto Beck’s neck, smelling where his cologne was strongest in the hollow of his throat. The gentle crush of his grip was a promise of security, and I relaxed into it.
Trust the silk. That was something I’d learned… in a former life. Let yourself be held, supported, andtrust.
