She first came off like an awkward, but hot, stepsister. By the end of our little dance, I surprised myself by calling her out on what she was trying to do. My cock swelled at the memory of her on the bed, waiting for me. What I wouldn't give to wrap myself in her curved, silky body...
But that was too dangerous.
Getting my club back was more important.
For once, I kicked the fucking dust off my brain and let it actually think for me. What it told me was simple. Walk out of the room.
Instead I headed into the bathroom again. I grabbed her pile of clothes almost violently. The least I could do was get them washed. Maybe if she looked more profitable when the Knights picked her up, they'd go a little easier on her.
This is just a transaction, I reminded myself, Nothing more.
That's when the photograph spilled to the floor. My curiosity had me bending down, retrieving her only possession. The faded, dog-eared picture slid between my fingers. I held it up, and even in the dim lighting, I could make it out clearly.
“Dammit.” The word slipped out louder than I'd have liked. I stole a glance at her to see if she'd woken. Flora's brows bunched together in unconscious disapproval, then she rolled over, still very much asleep.
Lies, deceit, ulterior motives, that was fine—part of the lifestyle—but this photo was something else entirely. Something I didn't like at all.
Flora was telling the truth.
Shit.
Cold reality sifted through me, piecing things together until they made a new quilt of shame. She's probably not even a junkie, then, just got shot up against her will. Nagging doubts about my deal with Roach began to weigh down on me.
Pacing closer to her side, I quickly placed the photo face down on the bed beside Flora, no longer wanting to look at it.
A pesky line from Paradise Lost drunkenly stumbled into my head. Abashed the Devil stood and felt how awful goodness is.
I needed a minute to think, to focus. In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that the diffused glow of natural sunlight through the blinds had cast me in a stark contrast.
Half dark. Half light.
I slicked my hair back and picked up my vest. “This doesn't change anything. She was telling the truth, so what? Remember what's important,” I whispered to my reflection, watching him shrug on the thick leather and tug at the patches, specifically one that read 'Nomad.' “Remember who you are.”
I didn't give her a second look as I fled into the hall and locked the door behind me.
****
“Leave me alone.” Flora's drowsy voice greeted me from beneath the covers as I pushed open the door to our room.
“So I take it an encore is out of the question?”
“Go away,” she mumbled.
“So you want me to donate these clean clothes to the local Salvation Army, then?”
Flora pulled the blanket down enough to look at me skeptically. I put the folded stack on the bureau across the room. “You washed them?”
“Turns out the maids only work weekends,” I said. “That's probably why we didn't get any mints on the pillows.” Not wanting her to read into the gesture, I quickly changed the subject. “Found your photo. You weren't lying about your sister, were you?”
Her face fell, eyes darting around in a mad search. When she found the photo on the table, she snatched it up protectively. “Why would I lie about something like that? Why would I lie about any of this?”
“Junkies have been known to stretch the truth from time to time,” I said flippantly.
“Stop calling me that. I'm not a junkie!”
“I know. I looked you over last night during that—” The recent vivid memory cascaded over me. Her silky form laying across the bed, the robe carefully left open, showing just enough milky skin for me not to care how clumsily blatant her attempt at seduction was. “—whatever that was.”
A smile brazenly carved its way across my face as I studied her covered form, picturing both the blanket she was currently wrapped in, and the robe beneath it, balled up on the floor from being tossed across the room. If we'd kept going last night, I wouldn't have to imagine it.
Flora seemed to wake up fully. Immediately she shrank, doing what she could to keep the previous night's embarrassment from marring her features.
I walked over to the window and drew the blinds. Light flooded in, bathing us both. I looked out over the long, quiet road that led to this quaint little building, the delicious fantasy of what could have been slipping from my head. “That's why I'm giving you what you want.”
Her eyes lit up. “You're letting me leave?”
“If I did, where would you go, exactly?”
She looked at me like I'd asked a trick question. “The brothel, of course.”