Bitten (Once Bitten, Twice Shy #1)(32)
Turning away before she actually did give in to the urge to hit him, Katherine examined the painting on the wall nearest to her.
It was a portrait of a woman in a lacy, off-white gown. She appeared to belong in the eighteenth – maybe nineteenth – century. The painting itself was done well Katherine supposed, but the way the woman's dark eyes – dead eyes – peered out at her made it impossible for her to look at it for long.
"Are you going to sit?"
Katherine spared a glance at Bastian, who was observing her from his spot on the bed. In response to his question, she looked pointedly at the chairs of the room – both of which were occupied. Even sitting, she wasn't about to share a bed with Markus and Zane. Or Bastian.
"Where?" Katherine demanded, ignoring the way the man's eyes flickered to the empty spot next to him.
Before he could suggest where she should sit, however, Sophie had leapt from her chair and linked her elbow through Katherine's. The woman ushered her to the bathroom door. "I'm sure you could use a shower, honey. You haven't had the chance to clean up since... well, in a while anyway."
Thankful for the opportunity to escape Bastian's observant eyes – at least for a few minutes – Katherine immediately agreed and practically slammed the door in the helpful blonde's face.
She took a moment to savor the feeling of being alone before turning towards the mirror. She wasn't able to withhold the gasp that escaped her when she saw her reflection.
Her chocolate-colored hair was a dark and greasy tangle. Her face was smudged with dirt and grime. And a large bruise had blossomed half-way across her forehead.
Looking as she did, she could hardly believe she had been let into the diner they'd stopped at earlier. But she supposed she had been practically hidden behind Bastian the whole time she was there.
It wasn't her filthy appearance that most bothered Katherine, however. It was her eyes. In the past week, they'd gained a certain gleam – a sparkle. Which was now noticeably absent. They looked murky again – dead. Disturbingly similar to the woman's in the portrait.
Tearing her eyes away from her reflection in disgust, Katherine quickly stripped off her clothes – a pair of sweatpants and an over-sized shirt.
She hadn't even noticed that she'd been changed out of the sullied clothes Bastian and the others had found her in until earlier that day, shortly after they'd stopped at Betty's Diner. But she supposed that she had more pressing matters on her mind at the time. Like the idea of werewolves. Like the death of her parents. Katherine swatted those thoughts away.
Still, she’d been distressed when she had found out that Sophie had undressed her during her first stint of unconsciousness – and in the SUV in front of the others no less. But the blonde had insisted that she hadn't let the men see anything. And she guessed that that was the least of her worries anyway.
Once unclothed, Katherine carefully examined her body and was surprised by the lack of bruises or other wounds. Besides the purple lump on her forehead and a few cuts on her knees, the only noticeable discolorations on her body were the four small puncture marks on her ankle from when that wolf – not a werewolf, just an ordinary wolf– had bitten her on Miller Road.
Forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand, Katherine laid a couple of white towels – those small ones provided by all motels – on the rack next to the shower before stepping into the bath tub. The cold porcelain immediately caused her skin to erupt into goose bumps, but the tub was surprisingly clean. Pristine really. No spiders, anyway.
Adjusting the metal knobs, Katherine turned on the water and quickly cranked the faucet labeled hot when a cold spray erupted from the shower head. In a few moments, the water was near scalding, but it felt good on her aching body and Katherine couldn't be bothered to adjust it.
Quickly locating the shampoo and conditioner provided by the motel, she emptied the tiny bottles. She scrubbed her scalp with both, anxious to get her long locks clean. Once finished, she chose to forego the cheap razor altogether and unpackaged the unscented bar of soap she had spotted while conditioning her hair. She scrubbed her body until her skin began to tingle – though she still felt unclean.
She stood under the hot water for a while longer after that, her mind pleasantly blank.
She refused to acknowledge that some of the droplets of water rolling down her cheeks were silent tears and not the water from the showerhead.
Twenty minutes later, Katherine finally found the will power to turn off the water and step out of the tub. She used one towel to quickly dry her body – she noticed immediately how red her skin was from the hot water – and the other to wrap up her dripping hair. She was reaching down to grab the pair of sweatpants she'd shedded a half hour earlier when she heard the voices coming from the other room. She wasn't surprised – motel walls were notoriously thin – but the words themselves gave her pause.
"-don't even understand why we're bothering with her. She's nothing but a spoiled brat."
It was Markus, once again complaining about her. He’d said similar things to her face, but she was a little surprised that he was also spouting off insults behind her back. She actually felt somewhat hurt.
"Her attitude has been atrocious."
And there was Zane chiming in. Katherine couldn’t say she was surprised. His condescending attitude thus far had made it clear that he didn't particularly like her either.