J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 1-4 - J. R. Ward [519]
Marissa started to cry, not because she thought she was going to die but because she knew she wasn’t.
God, the panic attacks had been brutal these last few months, her anxiety a stalker with no solid form, whose persistence knew no exhaustion. And every time she had a meltdown, the experience was a fresh and horrible revelation.
Propping her head on her hand, she wept hoarsely, tears running down her face and getting trapped in the pearls and diamonds at her throat. She was so alone. Caged in a beautiful, wealthy, fancy nightmare where the bogeymen wore tuxedos and smoking jackets and the vultures swooped down on wings of satin and silk to peck out her eyes.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to get some control over her respiration. Easy…easy now. You’re okay. You’ve done this before.
After a while, she looked down into the toilet. The bowl was solid gold and her tears made the surface of the water ripple as if sunlight shined within it. She became abruptly aware that the tile was hard beneath her knees. And her corset was biting into her rib cage. And her skin was clammy.
She lifted her head and glanced around. Well, what do you know. She’d picked her favorite private chamber to fall apart in, the one based on the Lilies of the Valley egg. As she sat draped over the toilet, she was surrounded by blush-pink walls hand-painted with bright green vines and little white flowers. The floor and counter and sink were pink marble veined with white and cream. The sconces were gold.
Very nice. Perfect background for an anxiety attack, really. But then, lately panic went with everything, didn’t it? The new black.
Marissa pushed herself up from the floor, turned off the faucet, and collapsed into the little silk-covered chair in the corner. Her gown settled around her as if it were an animal stretching out now that the drama was over.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was blotchy, her nose red. Her makeup was ruined. Her hair was a ragged mess.
See, this was what she looked like on the inside, so no wonder the glymera despised her. Somehow they knew this was the truth of her.
God…maybe that was why Butch hadn’t wanted her—
Oh, hell no. The last thing she needed was to think about him right now. What she had to do was straighten herself up as best she could and then scoot up to her bedroom. Sure, hiding was unattractive, but so was she.
Just as she reached up to her hair, she heard the outside door to the lounge open, the chamber music swelling, then easing off as it closed.
Great. Now she was trapped. But maybe it was only one female so she didn’t have to worry about being an eavesdropper.
“I can’t believe I spilled on my shawl, Sanima.”
Okay, so now she was an eavesdropper as well as a coward.
“It’s barely noticeable,” Sanima said. “Although thank the Virgin you caught it before anyone else did. We’ll go in here together and use some water.”
Marissa shook herself into focus. Don’t worry about them, just fix your hair. And for the Virgin’s sake do something about that mascara. You look like a raccoon.
She grabbed a washcloth and wet it quietly while the two females went into the little room across the way. Obviously, they left the door open—their voices were undimmed.
“But what if someone saw?”
“Shh…let’s take the shawl off—oh, my Lord.” There was a short laugh. “Your neck.”
The younger female’s voice dropped to an ecstatic hush. “It’s Marlus. Ever since we were mated last month, he’s been…”
Now the laughter was shared.
“Does he come to you often during the day?” Sanima’s secretive tone was delighted.
“Oh, yes. When he said he wanted our bedrooms connected, I didn’t know why. Now, I do. He’s…insatiable.