Page 77

Warm water spills down my back, drowning the world in silence. Beneath the steady rush of the shower, I can pretend I exist alone, without the Boltons and the Order, without expectations or watchful eyes.

I rub the lipstick from my mouth and watch the red smear across my palm. The color is too vivid against my skin. It looks violent.

Evelyn made me feel beautiful today, finding something in me worth polishing. But I don’t know how to carry it. I stayed in the house with my bold lips and deadly nails, unsure of how to act, even alone.

Freedom shouldn’t be this unstable, as if one wrong step could collapse it.

Asher wouldn’t have sent me here carelessly. He wouldn’t have led me straight into a trap meant to destroy me.

Something bumps softly against the bathroom window.

I go still.

Another faint sound follows. A branch, maybe. Wind shifting the glass.

Then the window begins to rise.

My heart hammers in my chest. Through the blurred shower curtain, a tall shape blocks the light.

Panic locks every muscle in my body.

Then instinct takes over. I wrench the shower head free and swing towards the curtain just as it jerks open.

Water sprays in a frenzy.

A hand catches my wrist. The shower head slips from my grasp and clatters uselessly into the tub.

Edwin.

He steps in fully clothed, water soaking into his boots as he closes the distance between us and pins me against the cold tile wall.

“I need an answer.”

My breath comes fast. “You couldn’t wait?”

His gaze scans over my bare body without apology.

“No.”

An ache builds between my thighs the moment his eyes land there.

“I told you,” I say, forcing the words out. “I don’t think I can.”

“Then stop thinking.” His voice remains maddeningly calm. “Decide.”

My pulse races in my neck. I know it’s obvious when he focuses on that point.

“Do you want this or not?” he asks. “I don’t have time for hesitation.”

Everything in me is stretched thin between a need for safety and a hunger I can’t name. But whatever this is has already found its way under my skin.

Floorboards in the hallway creak beneath approaching footsteps.

They stop outside the bathroom door.

“Mrs. Brinkley gave us a casserole,” Evelyn calls out cheerfully. “Isn’t that nice? When you’re done, come have some.”

The normalcy of it feels unreal beside the sight of Edwin standing in the shower with me.