Page 46 of The Last Sacrifice
“He thought you might be more comfortable with me,” tossing the jacket over the back of one of the dining chairs. Nestled perfectly on her lower back, two knife sheaths. The silver blades glinting in the dim light as the werewolf turned back to her.
“I’m Ghost” the woman could easily have been a runway model with her lithe frame and delicate features.
Maybe the multiple tattoos and skull singlet might have put designers off, but there was no denying that she was what Talia would imagine a biker’s wet dream was made of.
“Your a Titan?” it was a stupid thing to ask. Talia had seen the Titan’s patch on the jacket when Ghost had first walked in. Which meant that the gorgeous woman was also a werewolf.
“Born and breed.” Opening the bedroom to let two maids enter, Ghost gave her a smile.
“The Titans work for your king, we do everything the vampires don’t wanna do,” Her smile becoming a grin, “which basically means we do everything,”
Ghost gestured to the bed, ignoring the glare of one of the maids. Where an expensive black and red gown lay.
“The King has spared no expense. You are to be treated like the Queen, you will be” the first maid moved forward to pick up the dress. The smallest hint of a fang teasing the edge of her top lip as she turned to Talia with an encouraging smile
Talia took a step back and shook her head.
“I don’t want to be Queen of anything” what she wanted was to be back helping her grandmother cook. Watching game shows on the small tv she kept on the bench.
“I wanted to be a ballerina, I get it,” taking the dress from the maid’s hand, Ghost stood in front of her, her eyes sympathetic. “You are seeing Draven tonight. You can wear the dress he chose for you... or a towel.”
“Well, when you put it like that” holding her hand out, Talia took the dress.
“Smart girl” the words were soft as Ghost stepped away, letting the two maids step forward. Handing her some underwear, they waited and watched as she pulled it on. Their eyes assessing her. Watching her every move before helping her into the corseted dress.
Their hands were icy, making her shiver each time their fingers brushed over her skin.
Taking a steadying breath as her pulse jumping. Her eyes turning back to Ghost as they laced the corset closed.
“So how does a ballerina get a name like Ghost?”
Ghost leaned against the antique dresser, studying her for a moment. Obviously weighing how much to tell her. Giving a shrug of her shoulders, she gave a half smile.
“The guy that killed my father gave me my name.” Meeting Talias’ gaze evenly, she shrugged, “said I was my daddy’s ghost following him around, reminding him,”
Gesturing for Talia to sit at the dresser as the maids finished tying the laces at her back. The long skirt moving around her legs revealing a thigh high slit as she moved to the stool.
“That’s... that’s kinda horrible” Talia couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have the person who killed your father give you a name like that and have it stick.
“To be fair” moving over to the light switch Ghost turned the dim lights up “I was trying to kill him an awful lot. “
For a moment, conversation ceased as the noise of a blow dryer filled the air. The maid’s hands moving over her. Pulling her hair into an elaborately woven style. While the other moved around her face. Busy hiding the bruises under the veneer of foundation. But it was their reflections, almost translucent in the mirror, that raised the hair on the back of her arms.
Trying hard not to think about the fact that the women next to her were undead, Talia lifted her eyes to the large portrait. The painting that was under the brighter lights had almost come to life. Her gaze moving over every minute detail.
From the braided yellow hair to the way the woman’s fingers twisted the side of her medieval dress. Every minor detail had her fascinated. The face painted so long ago was almost a mirror image of her. The eyes, a soft gold, seemed to stare out from the painting. A coy smile teasing her mouth.
But it was the tiny blemish on the painted woman’s collarbone that raised the hair on the back of her neck..
“It can’t be,”
The heat from the fireplace did little to stop her shiver. Her fingers rising to trace the twin freckle on her own collarbone.
Opening a box on the dresser, Ghost lifted out a necklace. Stepping up to place it around her neck. The black diamond pendant nestling just above her cleavage. Exactly how the woman in the portrait wore it.
Her trembling fingers running over the tear-shaped gem. Her chest tightening. She knew this necklace. Cupping it into her palm, its weight familiar. Comforting.
Her gaze flickering to the mirror. Before raising back to the painting. She felt her face lose all color as her breathing became more and more shallow. The maid behind her had braided her hair into almost the exact style of the woman in the portrait.