The moment I stepped inside, I realized it had already been drawn. Steam curled lazily into the air, scented with lavender. After depositing my clothes on a wicker chair, gathering a fresh towel from the ancient rattan linen cupboard and placing it within reach of the bath, I sank into the water before I could dwell too long on who, exactly, had prepared it for me.
I wasn’t sure how long I lay there, the water never seeming to grow tepid, tracing a finger over the perfect mating bite Caitlyn had given me last night and pondering where Blaise might bestow his on me. The hunger pangs had long since faded, but there was still a weariness settled deep in my bones and a sharpness that remained on my features—from what I could seefrom the brief glimpse of my reflection I’d caught in the steamy mirror—that even a relaxing bath couldn’t quite cure.
Fortunately for me, the cure was another round of earth-shattering sex with my mates, so I supposed it wasn’t all bad.
Eventually, I decided it was time to rise. I grabbed a towel and patted myself dry, changed into the fresh clothes, brushed my teeth, drained and wiped down the bath before placing the towel in the very handy laundry shoot, and left the bathroom with every intention of exploring the house in its entirety—excluding the greenhouse, because I suspected Mordi might not be quite as fond of me as it was of Caitlyn.
I didn’t get very far.
The door with the knee-high scratches—the one Caitlyn had assured me was permanently sealed to everyone but Creep—stood ajar.
Curiosity got the better of me. I padded over and gave it a tentative push.
Beyond it was a small landing, surprisingly feminine and soft. A tiny console table was pressed against the wall, a half-open box of delicate ribbons and lace resting on top. The stairs were padded in plush, dusky-pink carpet, coiling upward onto the floor above.
“Hello?” I called gently.
A pitter-patter of tiny feet answered from somewhere overhead. The door didn’t slam shut in my face, so I took it as a silent invitation rather than a warning.
The handrail winding up the stairs was freshly polished walnut, smooth and silken beneath my fingers as I began to climb.
What greeted me was not the homicidal, possessed doll’s lair Caitlyn had half joked about... but something far more unexpected.
The room was set up for a child.
Not just any child, but one who loved dolls and frills, tea parties and dress-up, crafts and stories. Everything was creams and soft pastels, plush and ruffled and carefully arranged. The space was pristine, as though a child might walk in at any moment and pick up their gentle play right where they’d left off.
A minuscule table and matching chairs sat at the center of the room. Tendrils of steam curled up from a tiny teapot, and what looked to be real finger sandwiches and cakes were arranged neatly on a cake stand. Child-sized chairs were scattered along the walls, nestled between dollhouses, shelves of books, craft tables, and boxes of toys that all looked at least a century out of date.
A sudden, unfamiliar warmth settled in my chest—something protective, somethingpaternal. I’d never given much thought to children before, never having had a reason to let myself linger on the idea. And yet, standing here, I could picture them so clearly.
One with Caitlyn’s freckles and Blaise’s easy grin. Another with my tightly coiled hair and Caitlyn’s hazel eyes. I could see them running through this space, curled up with books, playing make-believe among the dolls and tea sets.
The thought startled me—because it felt inevitable. Until last night, I hadn’t even let myself consider reciprocated love. Now, the shape of a family had slipped quietly into that space instead, and I didn’t want to let it go.
A movement caught my eye.
I hadn’t noticed when Creep had appeared at the central table, seated primly with one small hand outstretched. The chair opposite her slid back an inch, inviting me to join her.
Was I about to have a tea party with a haunted doll?
... Sure. Why not.
The only issue was that I wouldn’t fit so much as half an ass cheek on that chair.
Obliging anyway, I padded over, tugged the chair aside, and settled cross-legged on the floor beside it, feeling absurdly enormous as I took in the spread laid out before me.
Creep lifted her hand.
The teapot floated obediently into the air, pouring her an imaginary cup and me a very real one. Tiny sandwiches and cakes bobbed onto my plate, arranging themselves neatly, as if offended by the idea of a messy spread.
Only once everything had settled did I pick up one of the sandwiches and popped it into my mouth.
It was... genuinely excellent. Fresh bread, cream cheese, and cucumber.
I glanced at her. “Thank you.”
Her glassy eyes flickered to the cup of tea. It looked comically small in my hands, and I swallowed the contents in a single gulp.
