Chapter 36
THE POISONER
My nose tickled. A slight tingle, just barely felt, brushing over my nose, then my cheek. Something furry.
I peeled open an eye to a tail in my face. Though when I snatched it, it was utterly limp.
We do not have pets.
“Twenty.” Silas’s voice came from the corner of my room.
My view was blocked by a brown pelt. Leaning up, I could see him laughing at me just over the fur.
“Excuse me?” I cleared my throat, pushing the pelt down only to reveal another.
Around me was an assortment of such clutter. Rich browns and tans, spots and stripes, silken and coiled. He had built the most expensive nest around me, and I was surprised I hadn’t suffocated in my sleep. Smothered with gifts would be an appropriate term.
“I was able to cover you in twenty coats before you began to wake,” he laughed. “You sleep like a corpse.”
Another one hit me in the side of my face when he tossed it at me, only to be caught in his hand after I failed to notice he moved closer.
His cold eyes drifted, and I found myself grasping what appeared to be a mink cloak to make myself decent.
“What is this?” I hesitated to ask but did so anyway.
“I was becoming tired of you complaining about being cold.” He glanced back up at my eyes.
“Hypothetically, if I had an attentive lover”—I leaned up toward him—“my bones wouldn’t chill so easily.”
“Is that so?” His tone was nearly a sneer. Even in anger, he couldn’t help a glance at my lips while I spoke.
I expected to offend him, but he took it as a challenge.
“I’ve known warmer flasks,” I mocked, my final word sharp.
“Have you now?” He withdrew from me, studying the floor he walked on as he approached the window.
He opened the window, the fresh, cool breeze puffing some snow powder from the windowsill into the room.
He came to the side of the bed, cocking his head. “How is the temperature?”
“Fine.” I swallowed, clutching the fur over my body.
He snared the end of the cloak I was holding, yanking it down and exposing me. My hands flew to my chest, legs crossed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said firmly, unable to help a tremor when the wind whistled through the window again.
I was surrounded by fur, either too stubborn or too scared to grab one for cover. He was waiting for it, waiting for me to give in. This was his game—to make me depend on him.
I straightened my back, chin held high. My body shook from the cold or from a small dose of exhilaration.
“Now you don’t have a reason to complain; you have something in every color.” He tossed the rest of the pile onto the bed. “Not that you have much diversity in your attire.”
“I don’t need them.”
He yanked my ankle, dragging me toward him through the fur. His knee dipped into the lush mattress.
There was something scandalous despite the tameness of the scene around us.
This man had chased me, hunted me, and used me as food.
Now he wore everything but the coat, starched and pressed like he had some important business to attend to, yet he was here, looming over me while I was rather indisposed.
Sometimes the lines between what I would entertain and what I enjoyed were becoming a singular line in the dirt.
I did not give him the pleasure of squirming, kicking, or yelling. I relaxed back into the scene, arching my back as I became comfortable.
“For someone who refuses to be spoiled,” Silas began, reaching down and tracing his finger across my hip bone, slowly across to the other side, “you sure seem to be enjoying yourself this morning.”
“You won’t get a rouse out of me any longer. You are harmless, we’ve established this.”
“To your body, reasonably.” He flattened his hand on my abdomen, smoothing it up between my breasts. “Your ego is never safe, though.”
I glanced at his hand, then back up at him. The light from behind him made him look like some gloomy premonition. “Neither is yours, as we have learned.”
His hand slid further, resting on my neck, the tips of his fingers pulsing with anticipation, a reminder of our positions.
His other hand moved on my thigh.
The wind from the window blew infrequently. As his fingers trailed over my skin, I could feel goose bumps rise just with the slightest touch, even in anticipation, like being touched by a ghost.
The hand on my neck did not frighten me. No, it was the softer touches that posed a far more intense terror, one of accepting that I might want such tenderness from the monster that haunted me.
He was gentle, his hand hovering between my legs. I could practically imagine the warmth the touch would hold, only to be deprived of it. Sharp shivers rippled through me.
I finally looked up; his eyes weren’t even looking where his hands were acting; his eyes were on only me.
“I am not scared of you.” Another shiver.
“I know,” he replied calmly. There came a whisper of a touch on my inner thigh, venturing higher.
“I’m not!”
“I believe you.” He leaned down, his bottom lip brushing my nipple, already taut from the chill.
I bit down on my lip, my hip bucking subtly, but I didn’t want to give him the impression of enjoyment either.
His lip dragged over my nipple, then across the skin of my collarbone.
I tilted my neck and turned my face from him.
He placed a kiss on my neck, his grip on the sides of my neck a little tighter to pull me closer.
“Get yourself dressed,” he whispered, before withdrawing completely.
The sunlight from the window was in my eyes now. Any warmth that had come from him was gone in a second.
“Don’t make demands of me.” I sat up.
“Wear one today.” He tossed one of the rabbit fur cloaks at me.
I held the coat close, raking my fingers through the fine texture. The hairs of the rabbit were so fine, fluid as I dragged my fingers through them. “Why today?”
“Because we are going out.” Silas picked up a pelt to inspect it. “I asked Mary to take over your chores.”
“I can’t just avoid duties because you are in need of something to kill your boredom.”
“No one else contested. I bought them a new wardrobe, as well.”
“That isn’t how we do things here.”
“You can run your Nest however you like, but I won’t let anyone in drab wear represent us.” He grimaced. “Appearances matter.”
Silas picked up one of the capes, of a gray and black color. The fine hairs tickled my neck as he wrapped it around, engulfing me.
“A fox wearing a fox; how fitting.” Silas smirked. “I found something that reminded me of you.” He handed me an oddly colored hand muff. It had black fur with streaks of white, making me assume it was from a piebald animal.
“You must think of yourself as quite funny.” I held it in my hands, tracing over the white streaks.
He lifted my chin, tracing along the white of my eyebrow, then my lashes. I turned away from him, but he only smirked. “While I enjoy comedy, I thought it would match perfectly. Rarities are expensive for a reason.”
“It sounds like you plan to sell me.”
“You aren’t for sale.” He laughed. “Meet me downstairs when you are finished.”
He left me alone in my pile of pelts. I placed my hands in the fur, spreading my fingers wide as I touched them. I slumped forward, lying in them for a minute. Everything was so warm, so soft. They reminded me of our first time, though I am not sure if that was his intention.
The ghost of his touch toyed with my mind, threatening to replace the memories of violence. But it is those memories that aided in my survival, to remind me who, exactly, I was dealing with.
After a bit of deliberation, I chose a black cloak with matching fur.
I put my hair half up, deciding a bit of effort on my part was the least I could do if I was going to wear something so expensive.
I wore Phoebe’s emerald earrings that she often lent to me.
Finally, I decided on wearing the piebald muff.
Passing some of the rooms was like peeking into windows uninvited, despite the doors being wide open. Hosts and Vipera fluttered from room to room in girlish excitement, like pollinators in spring, trading new and old garments to try between each other.
My posture became awkward as I descended the stairs. It had been a while since I wore anything this eye-catching, but I had missed it.
With all the enthusiasm for the material things above, not many were on the bottom floor.
It was warm down here, even with the fire neglected to embers.
Mud and sand littered the floors from being dragged in without someone to sweep.
I had to remind myself that they deserved a break, to ignore the mess, that it was a problem for a later date.
I hesitated in the middle of the empty floor.
What am I doing? This was obscene.
As I turned to go back, though, Silas was blocking my way to the stairs.
“Having second thoughts?” he teased.
“Would it matter if I were?”
“No.” He stepped down the last few stairs before standing before me and extending his hand. It was almost like he was going to touch my face, but he just brushed some dust from the fur lining of the cloak. “You sure took your time.”
“I did. So make this worthwhile.” I shoved his hand from my shoulder.
Instead of letting his hand fall away, he turned it to latch my palm in his.
When I turned to look, he had already pulled me into his side, his arm looping with mine.
There I was, trapped on an outing with my personal nightmare, at his request.