This Book Sucks Blood

Chapter 7: Fall from Grace

Song Selection: Hung Up—Madonna

The emperor and Harrison untangled from each other. It was hard to see in the dark, but the light of their masks exposed the ruddiness of Harrison's cheeks.

The cowboy bowed at Naomi, making a sound like a sigh of relief.

Naomi hadn't heard much; the beer had made her sick, and she planned to vomit as far away from the camera bots as she could. Unfortunately, two men had chosen her tree to romance beneath. She'd sat there for a while, unable to find her voice, the tummy troubles almost entirely forgotten as the men spoke. The words she picked up were heavy and unfriendly. "Lose." "Won't save you."

Harrison rushed away toward the pool. The other man gestured toward him and then pulled that same hand to his side, stiffening. "Naomi," he said.

She's never dreamed of a day like this. A day that the emperor would say her name. And she loved the way he said it, the deepness of his tone, that low grumble like he was something ancient. It could melt her. Oh, maybe it already had. Maybe she was already falling, already in love with the voice, the power, the man.

"I wish you had chosen a swimsuit. I don't want to throw you into the bottom two."

All the color drained from Naomi's face, not that he could see that. "You're the emperor. You don't have to throw anyone into the bottom two." It was quick and escaped her the way something exorcised would rush out of someone, this wild, runaway sentence. She threw her hands over her mouth and dropped a quivering knee to the grass. "Oh! I'm sorry!"

"You're right, Ms. Naomi. I don't have to assign anyone to the bottom two, but I chose to."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." It was impossible to keep the edge from inching into her voice, that flutter of panic. He could have her beheaded for backtalk, but he just cast those ice eyes at her. That in and of itself could become a death sentence.

"Save your sorries," he said, running his hand over his chest as if searching for a shirt to smooth. His cheeks were ruddy, too, a hint that there was a person under there and not just the immortal entity known as 'Emperor.' And he trotted off, leaving Naomi to puke under her tree.

She could almost hear Pauline. In her head, at first, it was chiding. The usual stamping, the pacing, the 'Oh, Naomi!' but after a minute, the voice finished. It was laughing. Because Pauline wasn't all berating, there was humor to her too. And sweetness. 'What a Naomi thing to do.' And there would be hugs, and really tasty cookies, because Pauline was so good at making cookies, even with only a hotplate to make them with. That was magic.

This was her chance. Her only chance. She was going to do this for Pauline. 

A robot glided to her feet, giving a friendly chirp as more vomit splattered the grass. Her new-found resilience hadn't fixed her stomach, she supposed. She sat there momentarily, supporting herself against the harsh, alien bark of the palm tree, its fronds waving at her in what she interpreted as mockery. She returned to the pool after staring at the fonds to gather her stomach.

She could make out Haldyn by his large physique, the only other large man attached to the beer table as if for safety. Two people clung to Haldyn's form. As she neared, the pool lights revealed Seth's adoring eyes and Kitty (Kitty!) lounging beside the emperor. Maybe she was, truly, a saboteur. But Kitty's earlier advice didn't seem like it housed that intention. It might have been a little idyllic, but a true attempt at sabotage? Kitty leaned in closer to Haldyn's bare chest. Maybe it was.

He cleared his throat. "I've made my decision. The bottom two for tonight will be Naomi, for not understanding the challenge."

Naomi's heart plummeted. She nodded meekly, pulling at her skirt. There was something inside her yelling, angry that she couldn't give them what they wanted. But there was something hotter, something more sinful. Pride that she had worn what she wanted.