Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
But first I have to deal with dinner.
And the fact that this castle is freezing. The gargoyles may look human enough, at least at first glance, but their differences become more apparent as the minutes tick by. Obviously the same skin that protects them from the icy temperatures at higher altitudes also insulates them in everyday life. There’s not even a fireplace in my room. I shiver and rub my hands over my bare arms, knowing full well that it won’t do anything to actually warm me up.
He said something about clothing . . .
I move to the faded wardrobe tucked back in a corner. I half expect dust to explode in my face as I muscle it open, but it seems like it’s been cleaned relatively recently. Inside, there are dozens of articles of clothing in a variety of styles. The one thing they all have in common is that they’re about the same size and obviously made for colder climates. I shoot a glance at the door and quickly drag off my dress. It’s tempting to go for the pants and long tunic, but I don’t want to raise Bram’s suspicions by making him think I want freedom of movement to fight or escape.
Instead, I pull on a thick dress that’s almost exactly my size. The square neckline leaves most of my chest bare, but at least the dress has got long sleeves and plenty of layers to keep me warm. It’s also about two inches too short, but I’m used to that. In the bottom drawer, I find woolen thigh-highs and ties to keep them up. That’s enough to make me raise my brows. I don’t know if Bram is allergic to clothing, but all he wore was a fancy-looking loincloth. There are no slits in the back of this dress to accommodate wings, so it was obviously created with a human in mind. The fact that there isn’t a single undergarment to be found . . . I’m not sure what to think about that.
No, that’s a lie. I know exactly what to think about that. I doubt whoever these clothes belonged to needed underwear. I read the contract Azazel gave me. I know that the opportunity for seduction is part of this. I even imagine that some people who make demon deals find fucking monsters to be a joy rather than a trial to avoid.
I can even admit that Bram himself is attractive. The wings are a bit overwhelming, and his skin doesn’t feel like a human’s, but it’s not unpleasant either. There’s a part of me that . . . No. I’m not going down that route. The only reason I’m here is to find answers about my mother, and I won’t discover those by bouncing on a gargoyle’s cock.
Though I have to play the game if I want him to let down his guard. That means allowing him to believe he has hope tonight so he won’t watch me too closely when it’s all said and done. By tomorrow, I’ll be gone.
Again, a little twinge goes through me at the thought of honoring the word but not the spirit of Azazel’s agreement. I promised seven years of service, and maybe I’m being unforgivable for essentially going back on my word, but I’ve done worse for poorer reasons.
In the bathroom, I find a brush and do my best to tame my wind-tangled hair. I don’t bother with any of the cosmetics. There’s also a sunken tub that was obviously designed for someone with wings because it’s massive and shaped a little strangely. Maybe if dinner is over quickly enough, I’ll have time to soak for a while.
No, that’s an indulgence I can’t afford. If I do anything to slow or stop my momentum, I might not get started again. I am . . . so tired. I shake my head shortly. “No use thinking about that. One step in front of the other, just like always.”
To do exactly that, I walk out of the room and start down the hallway. I doubt it’s time for dinner, with Bram out flying and venting his emotions to anyone who can see, but surely I’ll run into someone who can point me to where dinner will be served.
And I’ll get a look at the castle in the process.
Part of me thought that Bram dumped me in a mostly unoccupied wing of the castle and that was the reason there was no art on the walls or furnishings to be seen. There’s not even a rug to warm the freezing stones beneath my stockinged feet. But apparently gargoyles don’t believe in interior decorating at all. Every hallway and staircase is almost uniformly plain. If the gargoyles' goal is to ensure newcomers are hopelessly lost in minutes, they’re doing a damned good job of it.