Page 94 of Born for Silk
A hysterical scream bounces around the small, tiled bathroom as a member of The Queen’s Army gapes at the severed head of their king in the tight fist of their prince.
But Tuscany doesn’t even flinch.
So I storm forward, circling the tub, towering at the foot of it, angry at myself for leaving her that night, furious at The Trade.
As lost as her.
I have our revenge.
You can get up now, Tuscany.
I lick the blood gushing down my jaw from a talon-deep wound that carved my lower lip to my chin. The metallic taste stokes my hatred.
So, I hold the head out for my sweet, broken sister and slowly, she lifts her blank regard to meet the lifeless eyes of her father, of her betrayer.
She blinks once. “Rome.”
“Not anymore. Now, they will call me Sire.”
“He was your father, Rome.” Unmoved, she looks down, her gaze disappearing into the bath, swimming in her watery grave.
She gives me nothing for my offering, not standing and shaking off the sorrow, not throwing her arms around me and thanking me for her revenge, not healing, not?—
I drop the head into the bathtub.
A long hiss of anger presses through my teeth, hatred becoming a solid form in my very cells. “I did it for you!”
She stares blankly at the bobbing head as the dangling veins move like tentacles in the water between her knees, marbling the clear fluid with their blood-red ink.
Then she peers up at me.
The disappointment in her broken eyes shoves me backward a step. After what I’ve just done. This is for her. This is her revenge. To lift her up, to bring her back.
To bring her back to me.
Shocked, I empty my humanity.
My soul blackens against her gaze.
“Very well.” I lift the head from the bath. “I’ll give it to Cairo,” I snarl. “He can put it in a glass case, store it next to the vase that holds your womb.”
“Sire?”
Slowly, I lean back into my throne and ram the memory down. With a long, rough breath, I turn my chin to acknowledged Aster’s Watcher.
“Speak up,” I say to her.
She leans into my ear so I can hear her over the hypnotic music that matches the writhing bodies in front of me. “You asked for an update on Aster. Her basal body temperature dropped since yesterday, Sire. It's unlikely she'll be in prime condition to breed tomorrow night. I will repeat the routine again in three weeks after her body runs a natural cycle.”
Relief and anger both war to respond to her soft, nervous whispers. “Very well,” I state.
“Do you—” She hesitates and then swallows. “Do you wish to know about the other Silk Girls?”
A girl in front of me paws at another young thing’s breasts, and I feel nothing. “You know that I do not,” I answer, never removing my eyes from the spectacle, challenging the erotic scene to get me hard… like she can. “You don’t need to pretend. You know who she is. So shut the gossip down. And if anyone speaks her name in hushed tones, in corners, you come to me.”
Her exhale is heavy. “Not Master Cairo?
“He will not be back for a few months.”