I open my mouth. About to speak, when Ambrose holds out a towel to me.
I stand, letting him wrap the towel around me.
Nyx holds up a black dress that I gently take from his hands and then move to the corner of the cell to get dressed.
I can hear them taking turns bathing. Washing what happened from their bodies as best as they can and then dressing quickly and efficiently, as if it never happened.
I turn when I finish putting on the elegant satin dress that dips low in the front, but hides every scar on my back.
Both men are dressed in exquisite tuxes, as if we are about to attend a wedding rather than the more likely funeral. Their gazes are warm on my body, both taking their time to soak me with extra heat, as if they are trying to make me forget what transpired. What we all endured.
My thumb and forefinger rub together, as I fidget, not from their gaze, but from doing exactly as Isolde wanted. From playing the perfect part.
“Mark me,” I say to them.
“I’m not going to bite you,” Ambrose says at the same time Nyx says, “Hell no, I won’t hurt you again.”
I frown. “I mean my dress. Ruin it. Mark it in some way. Make it imperfect. Something that will remind me that we are in control, not Isolde.”
They nod—Ambrose moving to my front, Nyx to my back. Ambrose’s claw appears, and I hear the cool breath of Nyx at the back of my neck. And then they both rip. Nyx, a long stroke of his fangs down the back of my dress until it splits open, revealing the pain that Isolde has caused me. Ambrose lowers the V in my dress, ensuring it dips low.
I grin.“Now we are ready for whatever Isolde has in store for us.”
Chapter 39
Nyx
Stay in control.
You love her.
You might even love him.
Don’t breathe. You’re a wolf shifter, not a vampire. You were never meant to be a vampire.
Control yourself.
Their blood tastes disgusting—not like a sweet, delicious, enchanting rush of flavor that engulfs me in uncontrollable desire.
Bite them.
Devour them.
Drain them.
“Drain them? Really, asshole?”Ambrose says, hearing my thoughts in his mind.
I growl back.“You try being a cursed vampire. My fangs aren’t in your neck or hers, are they?”
“No, but you can control your thoughts.”
“If you don’t want to hear them, then stay out of my head.”
“I see you altered the clothing I laid out for you,” Isolde says, staring at Lumi.
Ambrose and I both grab onto one of Lumi’s hands, needing to touch her. Not to protect her, just for comfort.
“It was scratchy.”