Page 64 of Born for Silk
I smile back.
“You’re so tiny.” His lips only widen and while my knees buckle under the beauty of his grin, his words irritate me.
So tiny…
Drained to the point of mindlessness, I relent and watch him retrieve my cloak, coming up behind me.
A warm caress rolls down my spine as he drapes the cloak on my shoulders and lifts the hood over my black hair.
“You need to keep your head low. Hide your pretty face. Do you have any energy left after that little outburst to do as you’re told, little creature?”
Drained, I simply nod. I’m too emotionally exhausted for much else.
My stomach rolls, the movement large enough to speak volumes for the hunger I’ve been quelling.
Still behind me, he says, “I want you to know that I heard you.”
I exhale hard, closing my eyes and holding them like that as he speaks. With his chest, large and hard, so close to my back, he warms me to my bones.
“I blurred the lines because I don’t want the lines. I apologise if that confused you. I was thinking of myself, and what I wanted.”
His huge hand moves to the side of my neck, sliding down to massage the shoulder he wounded.
“I will make amends for hurting you,” he whispers, a deep baritone of dark promises. “Now. Follow me. Chin to your chest. Don’t let anyone see your face or I will have to kill them.”
That last phrase widens my eyes.
The door opens, and I am walking into The Circle, with his looming body a barricade behind me, before my next thought can surface.
I amble slowly through the holding space.
The cloak cuts across my eyes but I risk looking at the Guard who is passed out on the floor by the entrance. What about the other girls? They aren’t secure.
Rome’s body presses to my spine, and I realise I have stopped moving forward.
“Move forward, girl,” he states, and I continue taking a step at a time down the dark corridors.
Girl? He never calls me that.
His hand grips my neck through the fabric of my cloak, heat wrapping around my throat with his long fingers. Despite my best efforts not to, I hum from the sense of security he brings.
I stumble.
Concentrate.
I’m too busy watching my step from under the seam of the hood that I can only take in the hues of the lamps reflecting on the polished white and gold flooring.
We turn and enter a room with heavy white double doors, the floor decor changes to grey ceramic tiles, the scent of sizzling butter swirls around my nose.
“Out while I eat,” Rome suddenly orders, his voice proceeding the sound of pans and other metal items being placed down, and quick, nervous footsteps.
Then silence.
It’s unsettling, yet I like the energy his power creates. I only wish he wielded it with more kindness.
I hear my breath in my ears.
Rome lowers my hood. Bright lights make me squint. I peer around to see a large kitchen fit to create banquets, fitted with triple ovens, twin stone tops, a walk-in fridge, and a long, wide shiny steel island bench for preparation. This space is so clean, it sparkles.