Free The Other Brother (Snow and Ash Book 3) by Heather Knight Page B

rusty.”
    I avoid his eyes. Kent’s too, because all I can think of now is Nico’s comment about Kent being into BDSM. I know that’s what Nico’s thinking, but this was an accident. It was. A flash image of Kent in leather pants wielding a whip sends a giggle to my lips. Should I tell him what Nico said? I don’t really even know what BDSM is. Blindfolds. Handcuffs. Sex toys. Gross! No way. I’m not going to say a word. I’d die of embarrassment.
    I save Kent for last. “Is there anything I can have the staff bring you?”
    “No.” He traces his hand over my bruise and gives me a smoky look of promise. Then he takes my hand in a firm grip and smiles at me. “Thank you, Bianca.”
    Warmth rushes through me, especially that space around my heart. I struggle to keep the stupid puppy-dog look off my face, but I’m pretty sure I fail. I nod and duck my head.
    I move to the door, head high and shoulders back. Not a servant. Mrs. Barry.
    I will see him soon.
    Tonight.
    ~ ~ ~
    I smell like the devil’s armpit.
    I just finished doing an extra five miles on the treadmill, and I’ll need a shower before I can even think of going to dinner. Since Kent is still downstairs running the territory, I know the bathroom’s mine. I strip naked and toss my exercise clothes into the magic laundry basket. Magic because it’s always empty. Back in Knoxville, Tish and I had to carry our laundry to the basement, and although someone else did the wash, we had to put our own clean clothes away. We were also responsible for keeping our rooms clean the old-fashioned way—by doing it ourselves. The Barry’s are richer, more powerful, and have greater resources.
    I step into the hot shower and sigh. Whoever would have thought hot water could feel so sinfully good? I’m thinking about abandoning my morning baths permanently. We had hot water at home, but only because someone heated it over a fire and lugged buckets up to the bathroom we shared. We only had enough water to clean ourselves, and it was only warm enough that we could bathe without shivering. The Masons did not waste fuel or manpower. But this—it’s like getting a massage. I lose myself in pre-ash shampoo and homemade soap that smells like lemons.
    When I emerge, the bathroom’s steamy and I feel fresh and free. My hair is squeaky clean, and I think about that hot oil treatment Patricia mentioned. I dimly remember what it’s like to have conditioner, but I think even when I used it, my hair still tangled like crazy. I rub a dollop of that lotion into my palms and smooth it over the ends of my hair. It works for skin, right? So after I brush my teeth, moisturize my body, and tug a comb through my hair, I wrap myself in a towel and return to the bedroom. I have a closet. I’ve just never been in there. Every time I enter the room or come out of the shower, fresh clothing is laid out for me like some mystical genie granted a wish.
    This time, nothing. Patricia hasn’t been here yet. I get to choose my own outfit! I skip across the room toward the twin closets. The one on the right holds my things; the left belongs to Kent. I’m tempted to slip inside and touch his things and inhale his scent. I throb at the memory of him filling me, making me whole, and I want to wrap myself in him. I reach for the left door and turn the handle.
    I’m only two steps into the closet when I catch the scent of mildew, sweat, and old pee. The hair on the back of my neck goes stiff, but before I can retreat, an arm snakes out from behind Kent’s uniforms. It catches me about the waist and pulls me back against a hard body. A hand claps over my mouth, and even though I scream, the sound is muffled.
    “Well, look what I found.”
    My breaths come shallow and hard, and my heart flutters like a hummingbird’s wings as I struggle against the man who holds me. Oh God. Is this the man who shot Lawrence? Am I next? I scream again, and the hand that covers my mouth moves over my nose, cutting off