Chapter 15

—Tristan—

Downstairs, I grabbed one of the pizza boxes before I returned to the guest bedroom in my wing. This time, Eleanor sat on the bed and didn’t look up when I entered. She held the silver nightgown in her hands. “What if I refuse to wear it?”

“You can wear your nightgown for the show or be naked. Your blood will look just as enticing against your white skin as it would against the nightgown.”

A small shiver rippled through her body, and she let the piece of clothing flutter to the ground at her bare feet. I walked closer.

“Here. You haven’t eaten in more than a day.” I set the pizza box down on the nightstand. She eyed it suspiciously. I waited for her to shove it away, to try punishing me by starving herself, like my mother had always tried with our father. It hadn’t worked with him, and it wouldn’t work with me.

“I hope it’s poisoned,” she muttered, then reached for a slice and took a big bite. She chewed then raised her eyes t