I find an array of underwear and stare at the pile for a moment, debating what to do. I’m not sure who this stuff belongs to, and I’m trying to decide which is worse: wearing someone else’s underwear, or wearing someone else’s pants without underwear. I snag a pair of panties and sniff a corner just to be sure they’re clean. I side-eye myself as I do it, irritated that Hell has forced me to become a creepy underwear sniffer. Luckily, they’re clean, so I pull them on, huffing at the black silk thong that goes right up my ass crack.
Finding a shirt is more difficult because there are no bras in sight. I’m not exactly ready to put on the one I was wearing before, but going without isn’t an option either. Going back into the bathroom, I clean the bra in the sink absently, refusing to focus on the ash tainted water that flows from it. I wring it out as much as I can and put the wet bra back on, cringing.
What the hell? This doesn’t fit right.
I look down at my chest, and my cups runneth over. I try to grasp what the fuck is going on. Did the Hell water shrink it? I pull the bra off and squeak in surprise when my boobs don’t do the normal sag. I push one boob down and then let go and watch, shocked, when it bounces right back up, perky as a Playboy Bunny.
Did I get a Nihil boob job to go with the rest of the changes to my body?
I twist and turn, looking at myself in the mirror. It’s undeniable, they’re bigger and higher up than they have been since I hit my late twenties. I put my wet bra back in the pile of dirty clothes that reek of trauma and pain and go back to the closet.
Inside, I grab what I’m pretty certain is meant to be a dude’s tunic that has a hole for wings in the back. It’s really difficult to put the damn thing on and line it up with the wing holes. When I finally manage to get it on, I’m sweating and out of breath. The hem hits right below my ass, and it’s really loose in the front, but it’s better than the half-naked women’s shirts hanging up. I don’t even think I could manage to get dressed in those without help.
As soon as I walk out of the closet, I see Tazreel appear outside on the balcony again. His face is buried in another black book. I see his mouth move like he’s asking me another question, because he hasn’t noticed he’s missing an audience. When he doesn’t earn a reply from me for whatever he said, he looks around, noticing that I’m not out there. I snicker, but the noise makes him turn his head, eyes landing on me on the other side of the glass panes.
He turns the handle to the balcony door, frowning when he discovers that it’s locked. He gives me a droll look, like I’m a petulant child trying to escape a time-out.
In a blink, he disappears from the balcony and reappears in my room. “Do you dispel black glitter during intercourse?” he asks without preamble.
“What the fuck? No!”
He crosses something off in the book, looking smug. “I knew you couldn’t be part pixie.”
I blink at him. “So...you did fuck a three-inch pixie?”
“No,” he replies brusquely. “She was only a quarter pixie.”
I sigh and rub a hand down my face. “Why the creepy question? What’s in that book?”
“I keep a catalogued account of everyone I’ve fornicated with. I’m searching to see if I can determine who your mother might be.”
My lips purse in full icked-out mode. “Eww, how many books do you have?”
He opens his mouth, but I quickly throw up my hand. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
He nods and keeps reading, but then Lanky appears in my room right beside him, making me jump back, a small yelp coming out of me. “Fuck, can you guys not just pop into my room like that?”
They both ignore me. “Sir, the first guests have arrived.”
Tazreel snaps the book shut with a scowl. “Dammit,” he hisses before finally looking over at me for longer than a second. His eyes narrow as his gaze runs over my damp hair and drooping wings. “What in Nihil are you wearing? You can’t go like that to a party I’m hosting.”
Self-conscious anger lifts a blush into my cheeks. “I didn’t know the party was going to be right fucking now. And besides, I told you before I don’t want to go.”
“You’re going, even if I have to drag you by your purple wings,” he says without room for argument.
“Pass.”
In one smooth movement, Tazreel tosses the book aside, making Lanky dive to catch it before it crashes to the floor. Tazreel stalks toward me, and I scramble backward, until my wings collide with the wall, not liking the menace that’s coming my way. I really should watch my fucking mouth when I’m talking to an Abdicated.
He stares down at me with dominant fury, power pulsing into the room to showcase his anger. “I am your Sire,” he tells me, his gray-gold eyes holding me in place as he looms over me. “Which means everything you do, every move you make, is a direct reflection on me. You will do everything I say, without argument, and uphold my reputation at all costs. Are we understood?”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer. He seems to just expect that his little temper tantrum will put me in line. It does. For now.
Turning his head, he looks over his shoulder at Lanky. “Get Lousen up here to properly attire my offspring.”
Lanky nods and
