Chapter 11

“Are you hungry?”

Erica’s question brought Ariel back from her intense study of Erica’s home. The driveway ended at a very large house. All the windows were dark except one. A single, wan light burned over the wide double doors.

When Ariel didn’t answer, Erica looked over her shoulder. For a moment Ariel could only think of that night, and Erica’s face framed by the collar of her white tuxedo. The rose had been there, she knew it had been. The light flashed on the white at Erica’s temples and the silver of her eyes. What did it matter, Ariel thought. Erica was infected and dying, and now she was as well.

“You haven’t said a word.” Erica studied her in the light over the entry. “You said plenty that night.”

Ariel nodded. She remembered everything they had sung between them.

“Can you talk?”

Without thinking, Ariel truthfully nodded yes.

“You can, but you won’t?”

Ariel realized then that lying would have been easier. There was so much she wanted to tell Erica, so much truth, it just hadn’t occurred to her she might need to be ready to lie. It was too late to change her story, so she simply nodded.

Erica’s eyes flared with sudden anger. Her nostrils flared slightly while her lip flared with contempt. “So you’re somebody else’s toy now, is that it? Then why are you here?”

Ariel shook her head, trying to say with her eyes that she wasn’t playing a game. Perhaps doubt showed in her eyes, because she abruptly remembered the way Laveena had made her feel, like a puppet to be enjoyed.

Erica turned away, and her question did not seem directed at Ariel. “Why do I want you?”

The sound of the door swinging open echoed through the seemingly empty house. The foyer was barren of furniture, and the walls devoid of everything except the outlines of paintings no longer there. From somewhere in the dark came the solitary drip of water.

Ariel felt washed over with the memory of the grotto. If she stepped over this threshold it would be another prison, one her body would not let her leave no matter how the ground shook.

Erica turned to look at her and their silver gazes locked.

Was it pity that she felt? Or was she as weak as the queen had said, unable to resist? Weak for staying, or weak for going? Was she really thinking that she was here for Erica’s sake? She should be honest with herself. Nothing she had done had ever been for Erica’s sake.

Erica lowered her gaze and turned away. “Go then.”

Ariel stepped inside and let the future claim her.

 

* * *

 

She drank the offered water thirstily and ate the cheese and crackers, though both tasted like sawdust. At least Erica had turned on more lights. It was the kitchen faucet she had heard dripping, but now it had stopped.

The house was quite large, and quite empty. That much was obvious. The table where they ate was so far the only place to sit that she had seen.

“Ariel.”

She looked up at Erica.

“Why are you here? Drop the silent act. Whoever she is, if she treats you this way she doesn’t deserve your slavery.”

Ariel gave Erica a puzzled frown.

“I’m talking about this.” Erica leaned across the distance that separated them and yanked up the hem of Ariel’s shirt. “You didn’t have these that night. Anyone who beats you like this, who cuts you—how can you stay? How can you go on playing their game?”

She shook her head, though she knew there was no way to make Erica understand any of it. Was she the queen’s toy—yes, maybe so. But it was no game, it was her life.

It wasn’t Erica’s life, though. Erica was already doomed. At least one of them would live. You should have gone, she told herself. You should have left. You can’t save her. You can only make her hurt more.

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, shaking her head. Even if she had words she wasn’t sure Erica could understand.

Erica’s hand was still on her ribs, hot and shaking slightly. The fingers tightened and Ariel swallowed hard. Then Erica was pulling Ariel over to her lap, and Ariel felt drunk on the pleasure of it weaving with the memory of Erica’s strength that night, the way Erica had carried her into the back, and held her against the wall.

Erica kissed her hungrily as she pushed the shirt up to expose Ariel’s breasts. “I can talk for both of us, baby. I know you feel this.”

Ariel nodded. It was hard to hear over the pounding of her heart.

“Do you remember my favorite word?”

Again, Ariel nodded.

“I need it. I won’t have you without it.”

She wanted to moan, deeply from her chest, when Erica’s fingertips lightly circled her nipples and tweaked gently. Her pelvis arched.

“I know you want this. I want it, bad. I can’t get you out of my head and my entire life is gone. I know somehow it’ll all be right if I can have you. Just say it, and we can go to bed.”

Ariel wanted to push Erica’s hands away. Wanted to push them down. Wanted to pull Erica’s shirt off and feel their breasts shocking alive against each other. No sound, no climax, but everything else they could have. But did everything else matter without peaking, without their mutual song?

She didn’t know how long she writhed on Erica’s lap. She was soaked and aching to feel Erica’s hands between her legs. Erica had buried her face in Ariel’s neck, breathing hard and fast. Their chemistry had merged and was stripping away all of Ariel’s resistance.

Ariel had thought nothing could match the echoes for torture, but being so close to Erica and yet not singing with her was worse. She had not thought she would survive another year in the grotto and yet an hour of Erica’s chemistry was unraveling every intention. If Erica stroked her, she would use her voice. Give up her life for the pleasure of Erica’s touch.

“Dear heaven, what are you?” Erica surged to her feet, tumbling Ariel to the floor. For a moment, Ariel thought Erica would kick her, but instead Erica twirled toward the door. “After what you’ve done to me, is one word too much to give?”