Page 31 of Grim’s Delight (The New Protectorate Syndicate #1)

SIXTEEN

Felix left her to rest — after changing his pants. Knowing he’d come without even being touched went a long way to soothing her bruised ego.

She just wished it helped with the rest.

Her mind was too full as she stepped into the shower. Not even the incredible water pressure, multiple shower heads, or sex bench could distract her from the clamor in her head.

Venom neutral. Blood bride. Bowan.

Only a few weeks prior, finally allowing herself to be bitten would’ve been earth-shattering. Now it seemed like the most normal, obvious part of the mess that her life had turned into.

And pleasurable. Can’t forget that.

Dahlia’s face heated as she dried off in the glittering bathroom. Even the towels were luxurious. They were the fluffy, perfectly soft and extra large kind one normally experienced in high end hotels. Not that she’d ever been to those, but she could imagine.

Out of all the catastrophes that had been thrown at her in the last two days, finally giving in to Felix — temporarily, at least — was the least of her worries. That didn’t make her pride smart any less. And it certainly didn’t mean she intended to stay.

Leaving would be hard, though, and not just because he didn’t let her keep the gun.

Exiting the bathroom, she padded into the bedroom, fully intending on pilfering some of Felix’s clothes. She couldn’t negotiate or sneak her way out if she was nude, which was probably why her bag had gone mysteriously missing.

Dahlia didn’t see the woman standing by the bed until she rounded the corner.

Dressed in a killer crimson pantsuit and sky-high heels, the woman was bent over the bed organizing what appeared to be a dozen black shopping bags.

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Dahlia had to grip the towel wrapped around her head to stop it from falling off.

“I’m sorry— What are you doing in here?”

The woman straightened and turned on one pencil-thin heel.

She was voluptuous, with sensual curves and a mass of wavy black hair piled on top of her head.

A streak of white curled down over her brow to touch one rounded cheek, giving her a disheveled, almost impish look that made her already stunning features a thousand times more dangerous.

Her full mouth quirked in a wide, fanged smile. “There you are! Took you long enough.”

Before Dahlia could even think to step back, the woman moved with surprising speed in her heels to barrel down on her.

Soft hands cupped her cheeks, squeezing until her lips puckered.

The woman sing-songed, “Oh, you’re gorgeous.

Just gorgeous! Felix doesn’t deserve you at all.

That nasty little goblin. He has the best luck. ”

Even if she could’ve spoken, Dahlia had no idea what she would’ve said to that. Other than perhaps agree. Felix was a nasty little goblin.

That thought was promptly catapulted from her mind when, with absolutely no preamble, the woman yanked the tie of her robe from around her waist. The robe parted instantly, revealing Dahlia’s freshly washed body beneath.

The woman let out a low, appreciative whistle. “Damn. That’s a great pair of tits. Not as good as mine, but great none the less. You’ve definitely got me beat on legs, though. And you smell delicious. Congrats on that.”

Dahlia was so used to being naked with Cecilia that she only felt confusion as the woman inspected her with a critical eye, her fingers holding the lapels of the robe apart.

“Uh, who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Marietta,” she replied, dropping the sides of the robe to put her manicured hands on her round hips. “I’m Felix’s cousin. One of many you’ll meet, but definitely the best one. He told me to help you settle in, so here I am.”

Dahlia closed her robe. This woman couldn’t have been more different from the statuesque Yvanna, but the resemblance was there. Wiggling her finger in front of her face, she asked, “Does everyone in the Amauri family have the…”

Marietta crossed her eyes to look at the white curl hanging stylishly in front of her face.

Giving it a blow, she chirped, “Almost! It’s rare that one of us is born without it, but it happens.

Mostly it shows up by the forehead, though it varies.

My cousin Nash has it in his eyebrow and the side of his head, and Luis got a little in his beard. ”

“Makes you easy to pick out in a crowd, I guess,” Dahlia muttered.

“My mom calls it our red flag.” Marietta wrinkled her nose with amusement. “But enough about us. I can’t believe a Bowan is joining the family. You’re going to have to tell me everything about how in Grim’s name my cousin pulled that kind of coup off.”

“There are a lot of things wrong with what you just said.” Dahlia ticked the reasons off on her fingers, her bare foot tapping against the expensive rug. “I’m not a Bowan. I’m not joining the family. And Felix didn’t pull off anything other than a successful kidnapping.”

If she expected Marietta to argue or show any shock, Dahlia was sorely disappointed. The woman tilted her head back and laughed. “Of course he did! As if a woman like you would ever give him the time of day.”

Despite her best efforts, a snort escaped her. “That’s what I keep telling him.”

“I bet he loves that. Amauris enjoy being told no,” Marietta said, head shaking. “We tend to take it more as a challenge than anything.”

“I’ve picked up on that, yeah.”

“Well, Bowan or not, I hope you don’t make anything easy on him. Can’t have his ego getting too big now that he’s finally head of the family.”

Since Marietta seemed like the chatty type, Dahlia dared to ask, “Why has it been so hard for him to become head of the family? He told me he’s been fighting a war for years.”

Marietta turned back to the bed. Pushing aside one of the heavy curtains, she began rifling through the sea of bags that hadn’t been there when Dahlia went into the bathroom to take a shower.

“He was Dora’s favorite, but he’s young.

She knew that when she made him her heir, but I really don’t think she understood how against him some of the family was.

Or how ambitious. The elders didn’t think he had the experience to lead the family, and with Julius and Yvanna around, they figured there were better options.

” She shrugged as she began to extract clothing from the bags.

Silk, velvet, fur — they spilled out across the bed in a rainbow of luxury.

Marietta didn’t sound bothered when she continued, “Luckily Julius was picked off early. He was a crazy old fuck and would’ve driven the family into the ground, so it was great to hear he’d been poisoned by Bounds.

Yvanna was a lot harder to handle. She was ice cold and smart to get some powerful people on her side early.

The problem with her was that none of the cousins — mine and Felix’s generation — could stand her.

She treated everyone like they were disposable.

She would’ve sold any one of us for pocket change. ”

Turning to Dahlia, she held up a slinky slip dress made of burgundy silk. “Here, put this on. I think it should fit, but you can’t wear a bra with it.”

She took the dress, but she barely registered the soft material in her hands as her mind churned with the new information. “I met Yvanna. Sort of.”

“My condolences, then.” Marietta pulled out a sleek black thong and tossed it to her. “She was a cunt and I’m glad she’s dead.”

No love lost there, Dahlia thought, eyeing Marietta with newfound caution. Her demeanor was care-free and cheerful, which made the casual way she spoke of Yvanna’s death that much more unsettling.

Clearing her throat, she jerked her chin toward the bed. “Tell me this isn’t all for me. I recall bringing my own clothes, so that would make this extremely unnecessary.”

Marietta cast her a sly look. “I thought you said you were kidnapped. Seems strange that you’d be given time to pack a bag.”

She could feel the flush settling into her cheeks. “He coerced me and threw me over his shoulder. It counts.”

“Sure it does.” She winked, making Dahlia’s face flame hotter. “And don’t worry about the clothes. Felix told me to go crazy, so I did. You know how big your closet is? Even with the stuff you already own, this won’t even make a dent.”

The panties were halfway up her legs when she muttered, “Closet? What closet?”

Marietta jerked a thumb toward a small door Dahlia had overlooked by the bed. “The one in your room.”

Tossing the damp towel and robe down on the bed, Dahlia wiggled into the dress. It fit like a glove. Because of course it did. Felix had shown her again and again that he knew everything about her — from her favorite foods to what dress size she wore.

Gods, he’s creepy.

But her hands still smoothed over the silk, greedy for the texture, and that stubborn warmth in her chest couldn’t be dislodged, no matter how hard she tried.

Shaking herself, she padded to the door. It blended nearly seamlessly into the wall. The only sign that it was there at all was the gorgeously wrought brass doorknob shaped to look like a lily.

Pulling it open revealed a room that mirrored Felix’s, except instead of red silk wallpaper and upholstery, everything was done in creams and golds. There was also a notable absence of a bed.

“That’s your suite,” Marietta explained as she came up behind her.

The scent of raspberries and dark chocolate hovered in the air as she leaned over Dahlia’s shoulder.

“It’s got its own sitting room, office, entertainment area…

Nice right? Felix should have your things moved in by tomorrow, probably, so you can start planning what you want to do with it. ”

Dahlia stood in the doorway, frozen, her hand limp on the lily door knob. It appeared that she’d at last hit her limit.

Staring blankly out at the suite, she said, “I think there’s been some confusion.”

“Hm?”

“I’m not staying here.”

“Oh.” Marietta made a thoughtful noise. “Would you prefer I have everything put in Felix’s suite? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. We can just chuck his shit in his office.”

Dahlia sucked in a deep breath. Her fingers spasmed on the cool brass flower. “No, Marietta. I mean I’m not staying here. I don’t want my things moved in. I want to go back to my life in San Francisco.”

“Ah. Well. That’s trickier.”

Rounding on her, Dahlia demanded, “Why? Why can’t I go home and forget any of this happened? Can’t I just leave?”

Marietta’s red lips pursed. “Not exactly.”

The truth settled in like a frost, chilling her in a slow, awful wave of prickling ice. “So I’m a prisoner.”

“You’re not… not a prisoner.” Marietta spread her hands and opined, “But in the grand scheme of things, aren’t we all?”

“For fuck’s— No, we’re not!” Dahlia pushed past her, heading for the bags. “Where are the shoes? I need shoes.”

“Why? You gonna run?” Marietta didn’t sound particularly worried about it, merely curious. Maybe even a little amused. “That won’t be easy. Felix has the guards on high alert in case Alastair tries to snatch you back.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic,” she seethed, ripping through bags until she found a pair of devastatingly beautiful black leather pumps.

Shoving her foot in one, she snarled, “One man is holding me prisoner and another is trying to kidnap me so he can do the same. I must be the luckiest woman in the world.”

Marietta crossed her arms in front of her heavy chest and cocked an eyebrow.

“If what Milo told me is true, then you’re not far off.

But listen, it’s not as bad as all that.

Felix and Alastair will work things out.

They both want what’s best for you. Probably.

Felix I’m, like, seventy-five percent sure about. ”

Shoes on, Dahlia straightened to her full height and leveled the other woman with a severe glare. “Marietta, let me be so, so clear: the day I let men decide what’s best for me is the day they put me in the fucking ground.”

They stood there staring at each other for a beat before, with a burst of laughter, Marietta exclaimed, “No wonder Felix went to all this trouble! Dora would’ve loved you.”

Not sure whether she was being laughed at or not, Dahlia put her hands on her hips and demanded, “Take me to his office. I’m clearing this up right now.”

The other woman wiped a tear from her eye, her shoulders still shaking with mirth. “Oh, absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”