Rabid for her revenge

T H R E E

A light knock had me shooting off of the chair into a defensive position. My heart thundered violently in my chest and my breathing quickened until I was able to calm myself down and think rationally.

Myrin would never knock.

Taking in a deep breath I made my way to the door and cracked it open, peaking out to see Sarakiel standing there with his hands in his pockets. His stormy eyes lowered down to where I was looking up at him.

I straightened and then opened the door wider, just enough to accommodate my full form but not enough for him to see the bed had not been slept in. I didn't need him asking questions. I would not allow him to see me as weak.

I crossed my arms and rose a brow when he said nothing.

His eyes lingered on the scar he had left on my neck but then continued up the rest of the way to my eyes.

"You look..." he pursed his lips, "...better."

I snorted. "Well, you certainly didn't mark me because of my beauty."

"No, indeed I didn't," he affirmed.

I stepped out of the bedroom, making Sarakiel back up in turn, and closed the door behind me.

As we began to walk, I struck up a conversation. "I have to ask why you've never taken a consort before me. There must be a story behind that."

Sarakiel shrugged. "I never felt the need to. My own consort has yet to make an appearance, and I was unwilling to mark another without good reason."

I hummed in response and we walked the rest of the way in silence.

The male led me into an office that held the same sleek style as the rest of the mansion. The walls were white, the floor dark hardwood. There was a skylight in the ceiling letting natural light flood the room. His desk was a slab of glass on top of three black wooden legs the other a black filing cabinet to keep papers and files. His chair was a classic glossy black color and behind his desk was a massive bookshelf, the bottom half not open shelves like the top but more filing cabinets.

Sarakiel pulled up one of the two chairs resting in the corner and gestured for me to sit before rounding his desk and sitting in his own chair.

On his desk was a tray with two plates already made up.

He offered me first pick and in seeing no difference between them I took the one closest to me. Sarakiel pulled the tray over to himself. "How is the room?" he asked politely.

I speared a piece of fruit with my fork. "I need new soap."

"There was no soap?" he asked, his brows drawn together in confusion.

I popped the mango piece in my mouth. "There was soap," I corrected him, "but I want different soap."

The male opened the filing cabinet and pulled out a pen and a sticky note. "Is there something you want in particular?" he asked clicking the pen.

I shrugged. "Mint, citrus or ocean will be fine."

His pen scribbled down my request. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Can I have a clothes catalog?" I asked him, "I'd like to have some choice."

"Of course," he answered adding it to the list.

Piercing a pear on my fork I added my last request, "I'd also like a footrest for the chair in my room. The same size as the chair cushion." It would be easier for me to sleep if I could stretch out my legs otherwise, I'd eventually have to sleep on the rug so that I didn't ruin my knees and ankles from my curled up position. Moving to the rug though would sacrifice my back for my knees and ankles.