Nightfall Page 9

  My mouth watered, and my cock started to swell.

  Coming back in the room, she carried a newly filled glass of water and set it down on the chest of drawers before walking around the room. Mud smeared her clothes, and a leaf stuck in her hair as she wrung her hands.

  Micah and Rory dumped her in here an hour ago, while Aydin and Taylor went off somewhere.

  Aydin would be back, though. I looked over at his bed, the largest in the house, with his fresh white sheets and luxurious, feather-down comforter.

  Walking over, she lifted the pillow to her nose and inhaled his scent.

  I narrowed my eyes, a knot tightening in my gut.

  She pulled back, and then dove back in, drawing him in again. I clenched my teeth.

  She dropped the pillow to the bed and continued around the room, opening drawers and closets, sifting through the medical notes and drawings on his desk, and leaned down to inspect the jars of dead animals floating in formaldehyde.

  Then, she picked up one of the bones strewn on his desk and lifted it up, turning it over.

  She hissed, realizing what it was and threw it back onto the table.

  I smiled.

  She took out the knife Aydin let her keep and gripped it in her fist before she downed another glass of water and then walked to the locked door, yanking on it.

  It didn’t give, though.

  What did she think she was going to do?

  What was I going to do? She was on my agenda, but not yet.

  This changed things.

  She paced and paced, breathing heavier and getting worked up, but then she stopped.

  And she looked over at me.

  I cocked my head as she thinned her eyes and stepped slowly over to the mirror on her wall, stopping directly in front of it.

  The square mirror was about three feet on all sides, and she seemed to look through it, but her eyes never really found mine.

  She couldn’t see me, but she clearly knew it was more than a mirror. You could never get much over on her.

  She peered around the edges of the mirror, trying to take it off the wall or pry it away enough to see behind, and I stepped closer until I couldn’t step anymore.

  Standing up straight, she held out her index finger and touched her nail to the surface, leaning in close to see if the reflection touched the tip. A little test to determine if a mirror was two-way or not.

  The corner of my mouth curled up in a grin.

  Her chest caved and she froze.

  Uh-oh.

  She stayed there a moment, and then…she rose up and stared through the glass, searching for whoever was watching her.

  I raised my fingers to the mirror, less than a foot from her face as I stared into her stunning eyes. I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth.

  Nine years. Nine years, and I still wanted to fuck her.

  Only now I wouldn’t give her sweet and gentle. Shit had changed.

  “You have to take,” she said, staring through the mirror.

  I trained my ears, listening.

  “Because you’re too weak to know how to win what you want. That’s why you’re in here.”

  She backed away and then shot out her foot, kicking the glass with a snarl on her face.

  I stared.

  “Come on, Will,” she begged. “Stop the waiting and come on.”

  She kicked the glass again and again, baring her teeth, and I almost smiled again, remembering that night in the lab. How she challenged us, so ready to face danger.

  So tough. So cocky. I liked stubborn. I liked women who took control.

  But then she spoke up again, inhaling hard and shallow. “It’s not my fault,” she bit out. “It’s not my fault that you wrapped your entire happiness up in some delusion you’d cooked up in your head where I loved you and life would be right as rain if we were together.”

  My amusement fell, and I flexed my jaw.

  “I did what I had to do, and I’d do it again,” she growled, her voice cracking. “I’d do it again.”

  She gasped for breath and closed her eyes, dropping her forehead into the mirror and punching the glass. “I’d do it again,” she choked out, her voice thick with tears.

  I moved my palm to hers, staring down at her, centimeters away as I rubbed her cheek with my thumb.

  “No worries, baby,” I murmured. “I intend to deserve it this time.”

  Excitement fluttered through my stomach, and I curled my fist, almost feeling her in it.

  A knock sounded on the door, and it opened wide, Aydin entering and carrying a plate.

  My heart hammered, and I watched as he stopped and looked at her, his golden, brown eyes dark with mischief.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked her.

  She shot her head up and whipped around like she hadn’t heard him knock. Unsheathing the knife, she held it tightly at her side, backing up to put more distance between him and her.

  He set the plate and silverware down and looked up at her as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “I said I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “I don’t remember you saying that.”

  “No?” He smiled. “Well, I meant to.”

  He said no one would touch her. They weren’t synonymous, I’d learned here.

  He gazed at her, and I folded my arms over my chest, watching him watch her and waiting for any movement.

  But he simply drew in a deep breath and turned around.

  “Eat,” he said, walking to the door. “And bathe. You’re filthy.”

  He pointed to the white porcelain tub in the corner of the room.

  “Or I’ll bathe you,” he warned over his shoulder. “And there’s five of me to hold you down.”

  He closed the door, locking it, and she stood there for a moment, glancing from the door to me and back to the door again. Taking the chair at the desk, she fit it underneath the door handle as if that would keep us out, and then she walked over, lifting the plate up to her face.

  She sniffed the pasta.

  He wouldn’t poison her food. What fun would that be?

  He was just getting started with her.

  I closed my eyes, turning away.

  • • •

  I clenched the window frame on both sides, staring out into the vast, silent night high above the rest of the house.

  Michael.

  They’d sent her here. I knew it. But why? To motivate me?

  It had to be them, and if they could get someone in, why not one of them?

  I had my plans for her, but there were bigger things at play right now, and it wasn’t the time.

  Fuck.

  I squeezed the frame, hearing the wood crack in my fist.

  Did they know what she did? They would’ve had to in order for Rika, Banks, and Winter to be on board with this.

  It was kind of cool, I guess. I figured they’d find me, and never doubted they’d look, at least, even if it did take them forever.

  Unfortunately, none of it was necessary. I knew exactly what I was doing, and even though it pissed me off, I couldn’t blame them for doubting that I was in control.

  The stairs creaked, and I heard a voice behind me as someone entered my room. “Can you finish it?” Aydin asked.

  I glanced over my shoulder, seeing him stand at the top of the stairs leading into my attic room. He walked over, carrying his shirt in his hand and holding my eyes like a snake.

  Always like a snake, coiled for the kill, and when it struck, you didn’t even know what had happened until it was over.

  I nodded, pulling off my T-shirt and tossing it on my bed. I grabbed my kit and joined him at the leather bench I had sitting against the wall.

  Setting his shirt down, he laid on the bench and tucked the other arm under his head as I poured the rest of the black ink I’d siphoned into a small dish.

  I sat down and picked up the needles I’d tied to a pencil and dipped it in the ink. I approached him, leaning down to his right shoulder.

  “So, w
hat should I do with her?” he asked.

  I faltered for a moment but then pressed the three-needle tool into him, breaking the skin as the ink seeped immediately into the wound.

  I didn’t answer, because I knew better than to answer.

  “You didn’t help her,” he mused, unfazed by the pain. “She clearly expected you to.”

  I pressed again and again, redipping the needles into the ink every few moments as I tattooed the final line and colored it in.

  His chest rose and fell in steady breaths, not missing a beat. I had some professional ink on my body, but a lot of mine was homemade like this, and I knew well it hurt.

  Like Damon, though, it was the pain or it was nothing with Aydin.

  “She’s a fighter,” he said.

  He gazed up at the vaulted ceiling of my little hideaway that I’d moved into after my first night here. The white rooms and white rugs and white everything chilled me downstairs. I wanted my space, and I wanted it dark.

  Plus, the windows opened up onto the roof up here. I liked the view.

  “I love that about her,” he continued. “As long as she doesn’t hang herself with what little rope that I’m giving her. Did you notice that?” He looked at me. “It was like she didn’t actually realize the gravity of her situation. Trapped, with no way to survive if she leaves, and with five men who want to have the kind of fun we’ve been deprived of for so long, that a simple matter of money can make go away if she complains.”

  I clenched my teeth, pressing the needles in hard. His muscle jerked under my hand, but still, he stayed fixed on me.

  “What was her name again?” he asked softly. “Emory?”

  My arms burned until I realized every muscle in my body was tensed. I forced the lump down my throat.

  “Those eyes…” he murmured. “Brown with flecks of gold. They’re beautiful. I wonder what they look like staring down at you in the heat of it.”

  I stared so hard at his shoulder and the design he’d instructed I tattoo that I was surprised his skin didn’t catch fire.

  “How do I make her come?” he asked, watching me.

  I tightened my hold on the instrument.

  “Some women need a thumb on the clit when you’re inside them, you know?” he taunted. “Does she like men to do that to her?”

  I gritted my teeth, punching a hole in his skin and hearing the little pop. He hissed under his breath but then smiled, pleased he’d gotten to me.

  “Our fathers didn’t send us here to learn how to behave, Will. They would enjoy her, too, with or without her permission.” He paused and then continued. “They sent us here as punishment for not being more mindful of discretion. To learn how to not be sloppy,” he explained.

  My father didn’t send me here. I didn’t understand how any father could send his child to a place like this, because one thing would be for certain if they ever got out: Blood isn’t love, and love is the only thing that begets loyalty.

  I looked at Aydin, who now stared at the ceiling again. In my time here, I’d figured out Micah, Rory, and even Taylor, but Aydin…

  He’d been here the longest, and by this point, he might’ve come too far to go back anymore.

  “When I was twenty, I was at a resort wedding,” he told me, a faraway look in his eyes, “and I watched one of my father’s business associates drug his own wife, lay her down on a bed, and back away as he let my father climb on top of her and fuck her to seal a deal.”

  I paused, something like pain crossing his eyes. But then it was gone.

  “After a while, you know you’ll never escape it,” he said, “so you can either keep fighting the ugly, or you can reinvent it.” He turned his eyes on me again. “The biggest difference between my father and me is I just didn’t care if anyone saw the blood on the walls.”

  I couldn’t move for a moment.

  Em…

  I dropped my eyes and finished the design, scratching in the last of the color.

  “Don’t worry,” he told me. “I’m nothing like my father. Or Taylor, or Damon Torrance. I don’t force or coerce.” He dropped his voice. “It’ll hurt you more if she wants it.”

  Then he reached down, kneading his cock through his pants, and the needles in my hand shook for a moment as the temptation sat there in my gut.

  I had Micah and Rory. Taylor could be controlled.

  No one would touch Emory if I ended Aydin right here and now.

  He laid there, watching me and waiting for it, giving me my chance—daring me, but…

  Finally, he just smiled and sat up, taking a clean cloth from the table and patting the blood off his shoulder.

  “Everything is part of a bigger plan,” he said. “Whether it’s God or fate or something else, I honestly believe that, Will.” He tossed the cloth and looked at me. “We were always going to be important to each other.”

  I raised my eyes, unable to hide the scowl.

  He grabbed the back of my neck, giving me his reassuring little pat, and then nodded to the black garbage bags I had sitting close by to wrap up his tattoo.

  “Finish me up,” he said. “It’s going to be a night.”

  Will

  Nine Years Ago

  I should’ve touched her.

  I took a drag off the cigarette and dumped Damon’s lighter back into the cup holder, blowing smoke out the driver’s side window.

  But no. She wouldn’t have wanted me to.

  I rubbed my temple and closed my eyes. She was killing me. Had been killing me for years.

  Real monsters don’t wear masks, William Grayson III. A smile pulled at my lips. She was unpredictable, though, wasn’t she? I couldn’t stop thinking about last night and the lock-in.

  I took another drag and blew out the smoke as I squeezed the steering wheel under my fist.

  “Is this pissing you off?” Michael asked next to me, and I could hear the humor in his voice as he relaxed his ass in the passenger side seat of my truck.

  I looked over, seeing him stare at my white-knuckled fist wrapped around my steering wheel.

  “Nothing pisses me off,” I mumbled, seeing his head tilted back and his eyes hooded. “Except when I drive, it’s Damon and me up front,” I pointed out. “On the rare occasion you let me drive for the night.”

  “The only reason you’re driving is so we can cart the keg to the church,” he told me. “If you didn’t have a truck—”

  “Then I might be useless?” I finished for him.

  He laughed.

  But he didn’t argue, did he?

  “That three-pointer from the wing sure wasn’t useless,” Kai joked from the back.

  I shot him a look in my rearview mirror, but his face was buried in some booklet.

  I shook my head and turned my eyes out the window. I had my talents. At least I was on for the game last night.

  “About fucking time,” Michael grumbled.

  I blew out a puff of smoke and followed his gaze, seeing Damon finally jog out of the cathedral and across the street.

  Switching the cigarette to my left hand, I started the engine again.

  “Get out.” Damon opened up the passenger side door and jerked his thumb at Michael. “Now.”

  But Michael just sat there, looking amused.

  Damon cocked an eyebrow. “I will put you in my lap if you want,” he told him, “but I’m sitting there.”

  I laughed under my breath. Michael knew the rules. When he drove, which was almost always, Kai rode shotgun. When I drove, Damon and I were the ones in charge.

  After twiddling his thumbs for a moment, Michael finally gave in. He hopped out of the truck, both of them trying to stare each other down like it was a pissing contest.

  “I was almost hoping you’d put up more of a fight,” Damon taunted.

  Michael teased back. “Make ya hard, do I?”

  Damon smiled and climbed in, while Michael circled the truck and got in behind me.

  “What took you so long?” I griped, shifting
the truck into gear. “What the hell do you do in there so long?”

  “He’s in there every Wednesday night,” Kai pointed out. “They got some meeting of the over-eighteen female chastity club or something?”

  “Come on,” Damon whined. “That’s way too easy for me. They don’t have to be eighteen.”

  “Or female,” Kai added.

  I snorted as Damon whipped around and threw a playful punch at Kai. “Bastard.”

  Kai just laughed, trying to shield himself.

  I shook my head, pulling away from the curb and steering back onto the street.

  But then Damon shouted at me. “Wait, wait, stop.”

  I slammed on my brakes, seeing Griffin Ashby, the town’s mayor, dart in front of my truck.

  Shit. That was close.

  He looked over at us, dressed in his gray suit and yellow shirt and tie, narrowing his eyes on Damon as he crossed the street. Damon stared back, but when Ashby’s gaze twisted into a scowl, Damon stuck up his middle finger, taunting him.

  Ashby looked away, stepping up onto the sidewalk and disappearing into the White Crow Tavern.

  I hit the gas, taking off down the street. “What is it with you and him?”

  Damon sighed, taking a cigarette out of his pack and sticking it between his lips. “I ruined his daughter.”

  “Arion?” Michael asked. “Thought you said she had the brain power of a Pringle.”

  “Not that one,” Damon mumbled, lighting his cigarette.

  Ashby’s other daughter had to be only fourteen or so. I’d never seen her and Damon together.

  But his gaze was turned out the open window now as he smoked, and if I knew anything about Damon, it was that if he was vague, it was on purpose.

  Heading up into the hills, I drove down the darkened highway, the sun having set an hour ago and the sky nearly black now.

  Kai flipped a page in his booklet. “What is that?” I asked.

  “Course catalog.” He flipped another page, harder this time. “A fucking course catalog.”

  “Come to Westgate with me,” Michael said.

  “Or UPenn with me,” Damon added.

  I smiled. “Or Fiji with me.”

  “You’re coming to UPenn with me,” Damon told me.

  Fat chance.

  I flicked the ashes out the window and took another drag. College was months away, but decisions needed to be made soon. If I weren’t a Grayson, I’d never be able to get into Princeton, but the fix was in, and I was off to Jersey next summer whether I liked it or not.