clawed tub. Once again familiar with this part of the routine, she presented her back to the guards so they could remove the cuffs she still wore.
The master had learned early on that a slippery shower and no hands for balance didn’t make a good combination. Her subsequent concussion and stitches made him revise her bathing ritual.
This was one place she never tried to escape from. For one thing, the window was nailed shut and too small. Secondly, the guards were right outside the door with the trigger for her collar. Since she appreciated the chance to get clean, especially given how randomly it happened, she behaved.
And she usually bathed alone.
She eyed Brody’s limp body on the floor and wondered if she had time to shower quickly before he awoke.
Nope.
A groan rocked him first. He shook his head and slurred. “What the fuck happened?”
“You didn’t listen.”
“Listen to what?”
“Sometime after escape forty-eight, they put a collar trigger on all the doors exiting the house.”
“And you couldn’t tell me this before I ran right into it?”
She shrugged. “I told you it was impossible, and you never gave me a chance to explain why. You just bolted out of there. If you ask me, I think you deserved it.”
“Deserved getting zapped like a mosquito?”
“Yes, because you left me behind. So much for taking me with you when you left.” A little miffed that he’d bolted without looking back? Damned straight.
“I was going to come back for you.”
“Sure you were.” She didn’t bother to mask her sarcasm. Reaching out, she spun the levers for the water. She knew from experience she wouldn’t get much time to cleanse herself.
“Don’t you try and guilt me, sweetheart. What other nasty surprises did you neglect to tell me about?”
“I didn’t neglect. I just didn’t bother. I told you escape hadn’t worked.” Turning her back on him, she pretended he wasn’t there as she shed her gown and stepped into the tepid water shooting in bursts from the showerhead.
“Not for you maybe, but I…” His voice tapered as he finally noted her actions. “What are you doing?”
Keeping her back to him, she focused on the bar of soap in her hands, lathering it soundly and rinsing it before daring to lay it on her skin. Who knew what grubby hands touched it before?
“I’m showering.”
“Now?”
“Yup. I don’t often get a chance so excuse me if I jump on it.”
“Haven’t you ever watched a horror movie?”
“What’s that got to do with me showering?”
“Judging by that reply, I’m going to guess the answer is no.”
“No. I haven’t.” She’d missed out on a lot of things other people took for granted. If it wasn’t in a book, or part of the master’s plan, then chances were she’d never experienced it.
“Well, in horror movies, only the stupid girl showers when in the psycho’s house. Usually only minutes before she dies. Horribly. Screaming.”
Layla soaked her hair before replying. “But at least she’s clean.”
“You are seriously demented.”
“A product of my environment. If you don’t like it, leave. Oh wait. You can’t.” She still wore her smirk when he spun her around and glared at her.
“This isn’t amusing.”
Her lips stretched wider. “Depends on your perspective. From where I’m standing, it’s hilarious, Thud.”
“Thud?” His brow crinkled.
“I think that should be your new nickname because that’s the sound you make every time they juice your collar and you hit the floor.”
“I do not.”
“Sure you don’t…Thud.” She snickered. How could she help it when he tried to hold his glare, which really wasn’t all that effective with his mouth hanging open in slack-jawed amazement. “Do you mind if I finish showering? There’s probably not much time left.” She turned her back and resumed soaping, only to squeak as a distinctly naked body pressed in against her from behind.
“What are you doing?” she demanded,
The master had learned early on that a slippery shower and no hands for balance didn’t make a good combination. Her subsequent concussion and stitches made him revise her bathing ritual.
This was one place she never tried to escape from. For one thing, the window was nailed shut and too small. Secondly, the guards were right outside the door with the trigger for her collar. Since she appreciated the chance to get clean, especially given how randomly it happened, she behaved.
And she usually bathed alone.
She eyed Brody’s limp body on the floor and wondered if she had time to shower quickly before he awoke.
Nope.
A groan rocked him first. He shook his head and slurred. “What the fuck happened?”
“You didn’t listen.”
“Listen to what?”
“Sometime after escape forty-eight, they put a collar trigger on all the doors exiting the house.”
“And you couldn’t tell me this before I ran right into it?”
She shrugged. “I told you it was impossible, and you never gave me a chance to explain why. You just bolted out of there. If you ask me, I think you deserved it.”
“Deserved getting zapped like a mosquito?”
“Yes, because you left me behind. So much for taking me with you when you left.” A little miffed that he’d bolted without looking back? Damned straight.
“I was going to come back for you.”
“Sure you were.” She didn’t bother to mask her sarcasm. Reaching out, she spun the levers for the water. She knew from experience she wouldn’t get much time to cleanse herself.
“Don’t you try and guilt me, sweetheart. What other nasty surprises did you neglect to tell me about?”
“I didn’t neglect. I just didn’t bother. I told you escape hadn’t worked.” Turning her back on him, she pretended he wasn’t there as she shed her gown and stepped into the tepid water shooting in bursts from the showerhead.
“Not for you maybe, but I…” His voice tapered as he finally noted her actions. “What are you doing?”
Keeping her back to him, she focused on the bar of soap in her hands, lathering it soundly and rinsing it before daring to lay it on her skin. Who knew what grubby hands touched it before?
“I’m showering.”
“Now?”
“Yup. I don’t often get a chance so excuse me if I jump on it.”
“Haven’t you ever watched a horror movie?”
“What’s that got to do with me showering?”
“Judging by that reply, I’m going to guess the answer is no.”
“No. I haven’t.” She’d missed out on a lot of things other people took for granted. If it wasn’t in a book, or part of the master’s plan, then chances were she’d never experienced it.
“Well, in horror movies, only the stupid girl showers when in the psycho’s house. Usually only minutes before she dies. Horribly. Screaming.”
Layla soaked her hair before replying. “But at least she’s clean.”
“You are seriously demented.”
“A product of my environment. If you don’t like it, leave. Oh wait. You can’t.” She still wore her smirk when he spun her around and glared at her.
“This isn’t amusing.”
Her lips stretched wider. “Depends on your perspective. From where I’m standing, it’s hilarious, Thud.”
“Thud?” His brow crinkled.
“I think that should be your new nickname because that’s the sound you make every time they juice your collar and you hit the floor.”
“I do not.”
“Sure you don’t…Thud.” She snickered. How could she help it when he tried to hold his glare, which really wasn’t all that effective with his mouth hanging open in slack-jawed amazement. “Do you mind if I finish showering? There’s probably not much time left.” She turned her back and resumed soaping, only to squeak as a distinctly naked body pressed in against her from behind.
“What are you doing?” she demanded,
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