Piper Cross, an undercover spy, must relive her past as a child gladiator in order to bring the underground arena to justice.
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Growing up gladiator is brutal. The cells are cramped...
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The shower was just as charming as the rest of the space, bedecked in blue and grey tiles, each one unique and painstakingly arranged by hand to form the likeness of a riverbed. Devil's ivy soaked up the steam and the rest fogged on the window-glass, blurring the honeyed tones of the sunlit woods. Another beautiful morning, and yet I felt as numb as if I'd spent the night in a snow-bank outside, waiting in vain for the cold to take me.
After losing myself in the ecstasy of the hot water for much longer than the four minutes suggested by the hourglass timer suctioned to the wall, I reached for the bottle of shampoo. No sulphates or silicones, it proclaimed proudly, which meant that it wouldn't dry out and damage my curls. It smelled pleasantly of coconut, though I arched a brow at the single strand of gold caught plastered to the pump as I squeezed lotion onto my palm.
Good for him, I thought, pushing through the pause in my chest. He needs a life outside of me.
I'd known for a while now that I couldn't give him everything he needed – at least not all at once. Even so, the tiny part of me that wanted to try anyways felt like it was being strangled by that single, golden strand.
It pulled even tighter when I found a diffuser attachment for the hair dryer under the sink. It can't be a coincidence, I thought, biting my lip. Colden's hair was smooth and fluid as silk, and that golden strand was just as straight, so he must have bought the diffuser for... Well. It could have been for anyone, but I couldn't shake the suspicion he'd arranged it specially for me. How long had it been waiting there, under the sink?
I put the diffuser back, deciding to towel-dry my hair instead. A knock on the door made me jump.
"I left a fresh towel for you on the top rail," Colden said, his voice muffled by the wood. "I was thinking that I could give you a tour of the place, if you don't feel like sleeping yet."
"That sounds nice," I replied, reaching for the one he specified. It was easier knowing no-one else had used it, and I was pleasantly surprised by how warm it was. The railing must have been electrically heated.
"There's also a fresh change of clothes by the door. I'll be reading in the living room while I wait."
He left before I could say thank you, quietly padding down the hall. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I opened the door a crack and grabbed the pile of meticulously folded clothes, darting back inside like a frog's tongue.
Everything was accounted for, from the baggy, light-blue jeans and black turtleneck to the undergarments. Everything fit perfectly, even though I'd dropped a couple of sizes since the last time we saw each other. How...?
I shook my head, dispelling the uneasy feeling that had taken root in my stomach. He's always been perceptive, I thought, eyeing the outfit one last time in the mirror. It flattered my pear-shaped figure perfectly and had just the right amount of give if I needed to move suddenly. The bra was comfortable and supportive, and the conservative colours made my golden skin and green eyes pop. It's just who he is.
