Gianna.
Fuck, it's a beautiful name, worthy of a woman like her. She's a treasure, a fucking queen in her own right.
I'm in love.
"Gianna." Natalie says softly. "I'm sorry that happened to you."
"I'll kill them." I assure her. "Every last one of them who hurt you. Hollow Night is wrong, but for things to go as far as they did..."
"He told me I was safe." Gianna says slowly, her eyes searching thin air, like she's seeing it all in her mind's eye. "But I think he drugged me."
That would explain the vomit, I suppose.
"He left you." I say, feeling suddenly territorial over this treasure I stumbled upon. "Tied up to the stake, to freeze."
"It was going to rain..."
Natalie and I exchange a look; it hasn't rained in Hollow Fields since spring. We're in a drought, technically. Everything is dry, arid.
"But they told me I was fine. They..."
She shakes her head.
"If they drugged you," Natalie says, "they may have just given you too much. Unless it's the cold that got you. I don't see any obvious wounds that would have been fatal."
"Fatal?" I huff. "Natalie, stop scaring her. Are you having a breakdown or something?"
Natalie and Gianna both turn their attention to me.
"Oh, Aiden," Natalie shakes her head. "You've forgotten again, haven't you?"
I narrow my eyes at her, but don't ask what she thinks I've forgotten.
She doesn't answer, sighing and rubbing a hand over her face.
"Get dressed, please, so the kids don't see you like this. Both of you. I'll bring something for you to wear, dear. And when you've gotten your bearings, come join us in the parlor."
"The parlor?" Gianna blinks.
"Aiden will show you." Natalie assures her, glancing at me with eyes brimming with concern before sweeping out of my room.
I find Gianna's eyes; they're the faintest shade of blue, like snowflakes. I think idly of how cold she was when I brought her here and reach out to see if I've warmed her sufficiently. But she dances out from beneath my touch before I can make a connection, and stares at me instead, until Natalie comes back with a folded-up dress and a pair of stockings.
The silence is heavy as Gianna holds the dress up, studying it wordlessly.
"They have vintage taste around here." I explain with a laugh. "But it should fit perfectly. Do you need me to do the zipper for you?"
Gianna blinks at me again, and I wonder if I'm in the twilight zone.
How strange this is.
I expected her panic, her fear, her distrust. Instead, she's acting like she's still drugged. And I suppose she could be.
"Yes." She finally says, dropping the blanket so that it falls in a pile on the floor.
There's a moment where she doesn't get dressed, and I should probably avert my eyes, but I can't.
I'm transfixed, unable to keep from staring at her body, the beautiful canvas of her soft flesh.
