Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
How am I supposed to never cuddle with my husband?
He must see how ridiculous it is to avoid such basic human contact. Does he expect us to live like two friends with benefits, who count social security and tax breaks among the benefits?
I don’t even want to argue once he locks the cage behind me, lingering close instead of leaving me to my cold bed on the floor.
“Tomorrow, I’ll leave you to explore the house,” Corvus says, hand resting on one of the thick bars.
Which tells me he is in fact less worried about his marble countertops and more about me murdering him in his sleep. It’s somehow more upsetting.
I place my fingers over his. “It was a nice dinner,” I still say, because it matters to make an effort in a relationship. Whatever to make him stay with me a little longer.
His lips open, eyes widen, and he freezes, caught between leaning in and bolting. But as I move my foot closer to the bars, he rips his fingers from mine and steps away to where I can no longer reach.
“Goodnight,” he whispers and retreats so fast his shoulder hits the doorframe. “I’ll… I’ll leave the light on in the staircase.”
Is it messed up that instead of being pissed off I miss him already?
Chapter 11
Dalton
I wake up to an open cage, and a note resting on the floor just outside. It’s pinned in place with a paperweight in the shape of a bird skull. How did I sleep through Corvus coming here? Or does he have a way to automatically open the cage? The haze of sleep lifts almost instantly, and I crawl off my mattress to snatch the brief letter, eyes trained on the neat yet not overly ornate lines of text.
Good morning,
I have already left, but breakfast is waiting for you in the kitchen (Please, do not attempt to make coffee other than instant. I will teach you how to use the espresso machine once I’m back. There’s half a liter of fresh brew in the thermal cup).
Some rooms are closed. Do not enter. Feel free to have a look in those I left open. There are yellow Post-it notes in several places. If you encounter them, please, read them.
Help yourself to any food in the kitchen, and enjoy Netflix!
Corvus
The exclamation point at the end does make me smile, as it makes the note sound a bit less like a set of instructions. It also shows he listened to what I told him.
Maybe I’m a bit too optimistic, given my situation, but being let out of the cage on my own is progress. It makes me feel a bit less like a human vibrator, and more like a person. Would a vibrator need coffee? I don’t think so.
I get so excited to explore that I climb two stairs at a time. I don’t know how late it is, since I don’t have a watch, and never got my phone back from Corvus. I doubt I will, but who knows. Depends on how jealous he is of all the contacts in it. I for one don’t care enough about a single one now that I’m getting married to a hot stud who doesn’t mind I’ve got a chequered past.
The things that eventually chased off any other guy I was interested in seemed like non-issues to my new fiancé, and if I manage to make him like me as a person then… maybe this could work? Maybe I’d no longer have to worry about my future, and he wouldn’t have to be all alone in this big house.
Which reminds me he must have left very recently. The scent of coffee still hangs in the air, leading me to a large kitchen with stained glass lamps and windows reminiscent of those in gothic cathedrals. The walls are a dark gray, but the bright wood of the counters, chairs, and the floor softens the stern look of the space. There’s even a three-paneled picture on the empty wall, though considering it depicts a giant and uncannily-realistic skeleton leaning over two samurai while a woman watches them from the side, the choice of art is unusual for a kitchen.
Then again, my future husband has me sleeping in a cage in his murder basement, so what do I know?
As promised, breakfast awaits me on the counter, and while there are ornamental bars in the windows, the space is cozy thanks to all the wood. I get a view of an inner courtyard where several pigeons have decided to keep me company. An elegant metal chair stands next to a small table over there, and judging by the ashtray, it must be where Corvus does most of his smoking. I can envision it clearly. His elegant fingers gripping the black cigarette, he might even be shirtless on a hot day in the summer, lips as greedy for smoke as they were for my—