Page 38 of Bite Me

“Of course.” I plaster on my best smile.

This will be over soon, I remind myself as I kneel, grabbing a napkin on the table to mop up the mess.

“Do it on all fours.”

I keep eye contact with her. “What?”

“Get on all fours like a dog.”

My cheeks burn as I do as she instructed. I’ve never gotten a good read on her during volunteer shifts. There, she was just a harsh authoritarian. Here—

“Now give us a little bark.”

I hesitate, balancing on my forearms.

She continues. “Go on. Bark like a little dog.”

I didn’t sign up for this. What does this have to do with cooking and being in the club? My heart pounds in my ears.

“Why do you want me to bark?”

“Does it matter? You do what I tell you to do. Now give us a bark.” She rubs my head, and all that confusion bleeds into seething anger.

What is wrong with these people?

“Just do it. It’ll be over quickly,” Dacre’s voice sounds in my head.

I gasp. Dacre’s voice is in my head. I can’t see him, and I don’t dare to peek over the table to look at him.

“Is there a problem?” Verity says.

“Deep breath. Tell her it’s fine.”

“No problem.” I listen to the words. His words.

“Well, let’s hear it.”

“It’s okay.” His inflection is warm, comforting. But the effect it has on me is like fresh water being poured over my head.

He’s not just in my head. Dacre is . . . helping me.

I give a little bark.

“Really go for it,” Dacre adds.

I let out another bark, then another.

“What a good little dog.” Verity pats my head, and I meet her gaze.

There’s nothing but coldness in her stare. She doesn’t care about me, and judging by the hysterical drunken laughter of Luther, he doesn’t either. These people don’t want to be my friends.

I knew they were cutthroat, but this is leaning toward cruelty. I follow up another bark with a howl that causes the whole table to laugh. At least, this time, they’re laughing with me.

“I want to scratch her eyes out,” I try.

“You’re doing well. I mean it. You just have to last until midnight.”

Okay, so he can hear me, too.