“
Christ, I’m tired. I need sleep. I need peace. I need for my balls to not be so blue they’re practically purple. As purple as Sarah Von Titebottum’s—
My mind comes to a screeching halt with the unexpected thought. And the image that accompanies it—the odd, blushing lass with her glasses and her books and very tight bottom.
Sarah’s not a contestant on the show, so I’m willing to bet both my indigo balls that there’s not a camera in her room. And, I can’t believe I’m fucking thinking this, but, even better—none of the other girls will know where to find me—including Elizabeth.
I let the cameras noisily track me to the lavatory, but then, like an elite operative of the Secret Intelligence Service, I plaster myself to the wall beneath their range and slide my way out the door.
Less than five minutes later, I’m in my sleeping pants and a white T-shirt, barefoot with my guitar in hand, knocking on Sarah’s bedroom door. I checked the map Vanessa gave me earlier. Her room is on the third floor, in the corner of the east wing, removed from the main part of the castle. The door opens just a crack and dark brown eyes peer out.
“Sanctuary,” I plead.
Her brow crinkles and the door opens just a bit wider. “I beg your pardon?”
“I haven’t slept in almost forty-eight hours. My best friend’s girlfriend is trying to praying-mantis me and the sound of the cameras following me around my room is literally driving me mad. I’m asking you to take me in.”
And she blushes. Great.
“You want to sleep in here? With me?”
I scoff. “No, not with you—just in your room, love.”
I don’t think about how callous the words sound—insulting—until they’re out of my mouth. Could I be any more of a dick?
Thankfully, Sarah doesn’t look offended.
“Why here?” she asks.
“Back in the day, the religious orders used to give sanctuary to anyone who asked. And since you dress like a nun, it seemed like the logical choice.”
I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Somebody just fucking shoot me and be done with it.
Sarah’s lips tighten, her head tilts, and her eyes take on a dangerous glint.
I think Scooby-Doo put it best when he said, Ruh-roh.
“Let me make sure I’ve got this right—you need my help?”
“Correct.”
“You need shelter, protection, sanctuary that only I can give?”
“Yes.”
“And you think teasing me about my clothes is a wise strategy?”
I hold up my palms. “I never said I was wise. Exhausted, defenseless, and desperate.”
I pout . . . but in a manly kind of way.
“Pity me.”
A smile tugs at her lips. And that’s when I know she’s done for. With a sigh, she opens the door wide. “Well, it is your castle. Come in.”
Huh. She’s right—it is my castle. I really need to start remembering that
”
”