And Malcom was there, having followed me through whatever magic I had unknowingly used, ushering us toward my room. Toward a bath.
It was dark outside, leaving me no sunlight to soak in or the ability to wriggle out of Malcom’s never-ending touch.
Tub full and steaming, bubbles added in, it waited for me. And I stood there like a simpleton while Malcom removed my dirtied dress, my panties, another layer of me. I stood there staring forward, trying to navigate a mind that made no sense.
“I told him things.” Horrible things that I should not have known, that even now flickered in and out of my memory as if imaginings.
“Of course you did.” No censure was in Malcom’s response, nothing but doting attention as he helped me step into the bath.
Knees to my chin I stared forward while he ran a length of expensive Egyptian cotton across my shoulder blades. Tracing the length of my spine, the shape of my ribs, dips and curves, taking his time.
He washed my hair, an intimacy even Ethan never participated in. Dipped me back to rinse it. Carefully combed through conditioner. Cleaned my nails of chipped polish, shaped them. While I soaked in heat as if I’d been frozen inside and needed to thaw.
I was incapable of considering Malcom’s attention as anything unclean. It was impossible when my mind was spinning—full of the face of an ancient who’d opened me up like an unripe bloom. Too early, petals not yet fully formed, but free nonetheless. A forced bloom that looked the most striking in a vase and failed the soonest.
It took unimaginable effort to shift my eyes to catch the devoted gaze of my guardian. It was even harder to ask. “What deal did you make with him?”
Cupping my cheek, gentle, Malcom said, “In exchange for fealty, I begged him to save the thing I loved most.”
A little girl in a blue dress whose mind had been tampered with by her father and was in such a riotous mess that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to climb back out of it. “You committed treason.”
“I couldn’t let you die, cast off like… not when I’ve always known how precious you are.” His grip on my jaw grew firm, as did Malcom’s fiery expression. Even his fangs elongated to a startling degree. “I stood there the whole time he pieced you back together. Paid an eternal debt in exchange so that one day I could keep you. The little girl in the blue dress all grown up and mine.”
And that sank deeper than any bite. “I’ve been everyone else’s but yours.”
I’d never seen this side of him, passion enraged, so beyond collected I hardly recognized him. “You’ve always been mine. From the moment I held you bloody and fresh from the womb. He hadn’t even swaddled you, just dumped you cold and naked, cord still attached, in my hands. I quitted your cries. Found you milk; nursed you blood from my fingertips. I hid you from the court except when your father wanted to prance his prize pony about. I’ve murdered almost every human you slept with, hundreds. I didn’t even drink them. I just left them to rot.”
This fairytale sounded so untrue I began to wake from my stupor. “My father would have never allowed any of this.”
Not out of love for me, but out of control. He dictated every breath I took.
“Your father is an absentee king so obsessed with his treasures he forgets you exist for months at a time. And when the bastard is coherent enough to serve his duty, he orders you whored out—as if you were not the offspring of an ancient bloodline and precious. He had you lay with humans.” The last word was said with such disgust, I felt it like a living thing in the room.
Malcom was not finished. “Do you not think he would do the same to our children? That he would not toy with them in his sick-minded fascinations with suffering. Darius has lived too long!”
This was some trick, some new game my father played. Sloshing back, water waving in the monstrous tub, I put space between myself and this stranger who spoke of our children as if it were some given. And I looked at him. I really looked at Malcom and found a stranger in his skin.
As if he might read my thoughts, he swore, “You don’t need to be afraid of me.”
At that I laughed, choking on bile, and I backed into the farthest corner my tub might allow. “You are insane. No one can challenge Darius and live. I’ve seen it. You’ve seen it! We’d all be a puff of ash with a mere snap of his fingers.”
“I paid the price for you. And I will keep paying it. That’s all you need to know.” Fully clothed, he followed me straight into the tub, burning with all he had to say. Shouting. “Hate me! Hate me with your every last thought so your father remains blind to the beautiful workings of your mind. And when it’s over, I’ll teach you to love me.”