Series: The Sacrifice Series by Natasha Knight
Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I hold up the loofah and soap. “I’ll start with your back.”
“Oh.” She stands up so abruptly that water splashes over the edges. She hurries toward the edge and climbs out. “I’m good, actually. Thanks.” She grabs a towel off the rack and wraps it around herself. Her hands aren’t quite steady. “Where are my things? My cat?”
“Sorry, your what?”
I climb out too, taking another towel and wrapping it around my hips.
“My cat.” She seems almost like herself again—almost, but not quite, and in a hurry to get away from me because she’s struggling to hold my gaze and her face is flushed.
That could be the heat of the water, I suppose, but I don’t think so. Her behavior is strange. Out of place. “You brought a cat?”
“Of course.”
“Hm. I have a dog. He’s quite large. Your cat—”
“She won’t hurt him. Don’t worry. Unless he’s wicked to her of course.” Does she see the confusion on my face? Does she hear how backwards what she said is? “Where is she?”
“Well, I’ll expect you to sleep in my bed, but your things are here so I suppose...” I open the door that connects my room to a smaller one. It may have been used as a sitting room once upon a time, but it’s been converted for the Wildblood sacrifice. For Willow.
However long she’s here.
Willow doesn’t even look around, but when she hears the meow of the cat someone got past Grandmother, she rushes around me. Her relief is a palpable thing as she takes the black cat out of its carrier and hugs the creature to herself.
I watch her as she cradles it, kissing it like she hasn’t seen it in a hundred years. I clear my throat and she turns to me.
“Thanks. Good night. You can close the door behind you,” Willow says with a dismissive wave of one hand.
“Oh, I don’t think so. Leave the… creature. Come.”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ll sleep here.” She looks around the room where her suitcases have been set against a corner. There’s no bed, just a couch, some chairs, a vanity table, and books on a shelf. A smaller bathroom is attached to this room.
“You’ll sleep in my bed. If you want to keep the thing, you’ll do as I say and come to bed. Now. If not, I’ll be tempted to throw it out.”
The cat hisses at me as if it can understand.
“Her. She’s a she. Not an it. And she goes where I go. I’m not leaving her alone in this haunted house.”
“It’s not haunted,” I say, but it’s a lie. It is. It is a dark place, and as I think it, I look at her and all the vibrance and color she is. Something twists inside me for what I will do to this woman—barely a woman—and what I will take from her. “Fine. Bring it. Her. For tonight.” I stand aside and gesture for her to enter my bedroom again.
She considers. I expect her to argue, and I feel so fucking tired and my head hurts so fucking much that I don’t think I can take an argument. But then she surprises me. She nods once and carries the furball past me. The thing looks over her shoulder at me and I swear it sneers as Willow climbs into my side of the bed—my side—and tucks the damn cat in beside her.
I open my mouth to say something but take a deep breath in and close it again. I climb into bed instead and switch off the light. When I wrap an arm around my wife, who is facing away from me, that cat hisses and scratches her claws down the back of my hand. I draw it away, cursing, but I’m too tired for anything more tonight. I turn away from my wife and stare out into the darkness of the night, praying for oblivion to take me, to give me this reprieve. Just a few hours of peaceful sleep.
12
WILLOW
When I open my eyes again, I’m surprised to find a hint of daylight streaming through the crack in the curtains. Not only did I sleep through the night, but I must have slept hard. It’s an unsettling realization, considering I typically wake multiple times throughout the night, haunted by vivid dreams and nightmares alike.
I chalk it up to exhaustion as Fiona yawns and stretches beside me as if to say she had a peaceful night too. I scratch her ears and glance behind me, something like disappointment settling over me when I realize Azrael is no longer in bed. I was hoping to wake before him so I could examine those strange scars on his back, but it appears he’s already slipped out to do whatever dark overlords do during the day.
I’m not sure what time it is, but I decide I should probably get ready for the day myself. I’m certain my family is worried about me, and I need to dig through my belongings to find my phone.