Entombed In Sin (Graveyard Games Duet #2)

36. Beatrix

36

BEATRIX

“ T here, is that better?” Knox asks, stepping back to eye the pillow he’s fluffed. The move gives me a second to appreciate his slim figure that he’s showing off by wearing only a pink lace cropped tank top and low rise, tight fitted bell bottoms. “I can run and get another pillow if you want?”

I lean back against the one he’s situated behind me, wincing only a little. My legs stretch out in front of me, reaching the other end of the old wicker couch. Here in the conservatory, I find myself able to breathe more freely than I have in a long time. Through the glass ceiling, I can see the storm clouds growing dark overhead. Thunder rolls softly in the distance.

I didn’t think we were going to make it home today, given Knox’s lack of depth perception and just his general crappy driving, but we’re here now. It feels good after being in a hospital for the past six days. But it also feels strange. The old house never once felt like a place of solace, but somehow, now that I’m here, my body wants to melt into the familiarity and comfort found beneath its roof. My gaze flickers to the pretty guy standing next to me, still inspecting the pillow. I can almost hear his internal argument about whether he should run into the other room and get another.

“This is fine,” I nod. “Thanks, Knox.”

He flashes me a wide, toothy grin. It dimples his cheeks and brightens up his good eye. Where the other used to sit is freshly bandaged.

“I told you, I’m going to be the best nurse ever,” he says.

I shoot him a dark look that lacks the wrath he deserves. “I don’t think most nurses eat parts of their patients.”

Truth be told, I didn’t even notice the missing toe until yesterday. What with all my other aches and pains, trouble sleeping, and anxiousness to get home, it flew under the radar. When I realized it was gone, I was both horrified and strangely touched. I understand why Knox did it. That doesn’t mean I wanted to be eaten.

Knox shrugs before flashing me a cocky grin. “I’m a special type of nurse. Now, the doctor said to drink lots of fluids, and you need to eat before taking your pain meds.”

I sniff at the savory scent wafting through the air. My stomach growls in response. “I think you got the food part taken care of. It smells great, Knox.”

Knox’s smile is wide, brilliant, and carries with it a slight edge.

“Dinner’s been roasting for hours. It should be nearly done. I need to check on it.” Rather than move away from me to tend to the meal, Knox takes my legs and lifts them before sitting down where they’d been and placing them on his lap. When turns to face me, his smile is still in place. “Tonight, we’ll have a special dinner.”

“Why? Because it’s the first time we’ve been under the same roof together in over two weeks?” I roll my eyes. “That feels a bit too…” I flounder for a wonder. “ Sweet of a gesture, Knox. Especially for you.”

Knox snickers. “You’re right. We’re not celebrating that .”

“Ok… Well, are you going to tell me why tonight’s special, then?”

“I’ll tell you something if you share something with me.” His blue eye flashes with mischievousness.

I study his face. Though he’s just as beautiful to look at as he had been before Angel Eyes captured us, there’s something different about him. There’s a subdued solemnness in his gaze. His smiles don’t last as long as they used to either. My heart twists. Knox is better at hiding his internal scars than I am, but they’re there.

“What do I have that you want?” I ask him.

If I wasn’t watching him so closely, I wouldn’t have noticed the way Knox’s shoulders stiffen or how his thighs tense beneath my legs.

“I want your hands on me.”

Knox’s request throws me for a bit of a loop.

I give him an uncertain smile. “You don’t have to ask for that, Knox. You know I enjoy touching you.”

“Will you now, though, after…” His voice, low and tense, trails off for a second. Any sign of a smile fades. “After what happened, I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about touching… Or being touched.”

Given how people have hurt him in the past, I know why Knox is hesitant. He’s not presumptuous like Sagan back at the hospital. He won’t touch me if that’s not what I want. For someone who has a flippant disregard for life and mercy, it’s a wonder that this is where Knox has drawn his moral line. For a second, we simply stare at each other—sharing a somber moment. It’s filled with unspoken apologies, of solidarity, and understanding. What the two of us went through will bind us in a way nothing else could.

“Come here,” I whisper, breaking the short silence.

Knox studies my face for a moment—not moving until he’s found whatever it is he’s looking for. When he does, he’s careful not to jostle me too much. He spreads my legs and shifts on the couch until he’s suddenly over top of me. A knee sits between my thighs and the other is between my right leg and the back of the couch. His arms come up on either side of my face and he grips the armrest I’m leaning against.

I stare up into Knox’s face as he looks down at me. Holding his gaze, I reach up slowly. I don’t warn Knox that I’m about to touch him, but he tenses anyway.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

I open my mouth to ask him the same thing, but stop myself. If Knox didn’t want this—my hands on him—he wouldn’t have used it as a bartering chip. He’s sure that he wants this. Without any more hesitation, I place my palms flat on his stomach—showing him just how sure I am.

Knox sucks in a sharp breath. His abs flex beneath my hands and his eye slams shut. A small grunt remains tucked behind his lips, but I hear it all the same.

“Knox?”

I’m worried by the way his nose wrinkles and his chest stops moving. For another few seconds, he holds himself that way. When Knox finally let’s go of the breath he’s been holding, his eye flutters open and his muscles slowly uncoil.

“Are you ok?” I ask him.

Rather than answer me directly, Knox’s head swoops down, and he claims my lips with a harsh kiss. I’m momentarily stunned. His kiss is hard and demanding. Heat unfurls in my chest and heads in two different directions. The first is north, into my face. My blush is ridiculous, but the excitement of having Knox’s mouth pressed against mine makes me feel giddy and shy. Another stretch of heat barrels down between my legs. I gasp as my body comes to life.

Knox’s tongue darts out and he licks against the seam of my mouth, coaxing me to open up for him. I do. He eats up my gasp of delight as his tongue plunges into my mouth and our tongues stroke one another. My hands slide up Knox’s stomach, too greedy to experience touching all of him to settle in one spot. Another shudder rushes through Knox, but he doesn’t break the kiss. Instead, he growls hungrily. The sound is repeated when my hands spread apart and my thumbs toy with his nipples before caressing the rest of his chest.

Knox pulls away from my mouth only so that he can kiss across my cheek, then down the length of my neck. I gasp and squirm as he sucks the sensitive skin beneath my ear. My thighs try to squeeze together in an attempt to dampen the heat that’s growing more intense by the second, but Knox’s knee is in the way.

He chuckles against my skin before his mouth returns to mine. Purposefully, Knox shifts his knee up so that it’s pressed against my clit through the sweatpants I’m wearing. He gobbles up my soft cry of surprise as his tongue dives back into my mouth. Unable to stop myself, I grind my hips against him. The friction that the movement creates immediately drives me insane. Since Sagan’s claiming touch back at the hospital, I’ve been desperately craving being back in the arms of my guys. Now I’m here with Knox and all that frantic energy that’s been rolling around inside me has an outlet.

My hands slide from Knox’s chest to his back where my fingers curl, digging into his skin as continues to kiss me. I roll and grind my hips, finding that perfect rhythm I know will get me to my orgasm quickly. While riding his leg, I pretend the pain radiating from my abdomen is just a figment of my imagination. I want this so badly I’m willing to pull a few stitches to see this through to the end.

“Knox, I believe whatever is in the oven is burning.”

The sound of Thatcher’s voice only gives me a moment’s pause. I would’ve dove right back into the moment with Knox, but suddenly his body vanishes from over top of me.

“Shit! Be right back!” he calls, already darting around Thatcher, who steps into the room to get out of Knox’s way.

“No, wait!” I call out, my voice a whine as I squeeze my thighs together. The abrupt halt of the coiling tension in my lower stomach causes a shudder of need to run through me. I groan with frustration.

Thatcher chuckles as he saunters toward me. I glare up at him as he approaches.

“You could’ve waited a few more seconds,” I pout, only half-teasing.

Thatcher’s smile is bright and full of mischief. “I suppose I could’ve but, then again, I may have had an ulterior motive for breaking this up.”

I drink in the sight of him. He’s dressed in a black button-up with a red tie and matching black pants that are tailored perfectly to his body. His black hair is slicked back perfectly, and when he moves toward me, his stroll is both graceful and predatory. The heat between my legs only intensifies at the sight of him.

“You do?”

Thatcher nods as he picks up my legs and lowers himself into the spot Knox had just been sitting in.

“How was the trip home?” he asks, rather than tell me the purpose behind his interruption.

“It was fine. How’s Bright Starr?”

“Running like a well-oiled machine. Morty’s family was a little pissed at the delay in getting his ashes back, but when I told them there had been a family emergency, they were gracious enough to let it go. Otherwise, it’s been smooth sailing. Sagan is shoveling ashes from the retort to the processor now. He’ll be up shortly for dinner.”

I nod, glad to hear that Bright Starr hasn’t taken a huge hit given my absence.

Thatcher doesn’t continue right away. Instead, he peers through the glass walls and studies the backyard. The line of trees in the distance are like a dark and ominous wall, closing us off from the rest of the world. The bare branches sway in the window. Overheard, a flicker of lightning brightens the dark clouds before disappearing. Thunder rumbles softly a second later.

“This house isn't a home without you,” Thatcher murmurs, almost absentmindedly. “It’s been feeling quite empty lately.”

I study his profile, admiring how handsome this man is. He must feel my gaze on his face because slowly, Thatcher turns his head to look at me. His sage green eye and light, soft brown one shine with so much emotion that I’m suddenly drowning it in.

With a heavy sigh, he says, “I can’t love you, Beatrix Starr. It would be a sin to utter such beautiful words to you and not mean them. And while blasphemy isn’t something I typically care about; in this case I would hate to inspire it.”

His words take me by surprise. They also cut deep—deeper than his blade could ever go. Before I can wonder what spurred him to say such a thing, Thatcher continues.

“What I feel for you is much darker than love. I have this ugly, filthy, corrupted, all-consuming, obsessive need for your soul to belong to me. The lengths I’d go to achieve that possession? Well,” my stepbrother chuckles darkly. “It would frighten even the most fearless, bloodthirsty god. And it should because there’s nothing in this world, and all the others like it, that could rival the devastation and destruction that would occur if you were to ever leave me. I would slaughter entire towns, be the nightmare the world can’t get rid of, if that meant that in the end, I got to keep you all to myself.”

The hurt vanishes as I gape at Thatcher. He’s right, what he’s describing isn’t love. It's perverse and repugnant. Any sane individual would run from this type of confession. But me? His bold declaration, filled with words that paint a bloody promise—they call to me. The smile that splays across my face is returned by the sadistic man staring back at me.

Thatcher leans forward, capturing my lips with his to steal a swift kiss. I’m left breathless as he pulls away.

“If Knox is the air I breathe, you are the force that makes my heart beat,” he admits, his voice hardly more than a whisper now.

There’s a thundering in my ears, so deafening that I miss the sound of my breath catching. It takes me a second to realize it’s not actual thunder, but the beating of my heart.

Don’t fall in love . It’s the last of the three rules these men have. An impossible one to abide by. Not with how these men treat me. Somehow, Thatcher found a way around that rule. This isn’t love, it’s better than that. All of them are like this. Their toxic, oppressive adoration for each other and for me is dangerous and addictive. There’s nothing else I could want more than this right here.

Tears well up as we stare at one another.

“You might not be able to say the words, but I can,” I tell him, just barely managing to squeeze out the words as a knot of emotion works its way into my throat. “I love you, Thatcher.”

Thatcher’s eyes flash before they begin to smolder. The heated look he gives me is enough to make my toes curl. His hands grip my ankles in a tight hold.

“Careful, Little Sister,” he warns, though he licks his bottom lip hungrily as his eyes drag down my body. “Those words are dangerous.”

“I’m not afraid of a punishment,” I tell him, lifting my chin in defiance. “Punish me ten times over if you want. I’ll never stop loving you, Thatcher.” His nostrils flare and that heat turns scalding in his eyes. I shiver under its intensity. Swallowing down the excited nerves, I shift the conversation back to something safer. “Tell me why you sent Knox running?”

Thatcher grins. It’s all teeth, and it causes his eyes to glitter with delight and hunger. He doesn’t answer my question. Not with words. Instead, he reaches up and grabs the waistband of my sweatpants. I watch with bated breath as he pulls them down. He takes his time, carefully pulling both legs out before dropping the sweats to the floor. With no panties on, I’m exposed to my stepbrother.

“Maybe I sent him running because I was jealous,” he says softly, his eyes darkening. He spreads my legs apart slowly before shifting in his seat. “Or maybe I’m just hungry for an appetizer before dinner.”

My breath catches as Thatcher tucks his knees under him and turns so he’s kneeling between my legs. With a surprisingly considerable amount of care, he lifts my legs over his shoulders then bends down to suck in a deep breath.

“Or maybe, Little Sister, it’s a bit of both,” he admits. “I’ve missed you, Beatrix.”

I lick my bottom lip as the hunger Knox stirred in me intensifies tenfold. Feeling emboldened by the look in Thatcher’s gaze and with desire humming loudly in my veins, I decide to appease us both.

“I would hate for you to starve before dinner, Big Brother,” I wiggle my hips suggestively while keeping in mind to be careful of my stitches. “Eat up.”

The grin Thatcher gives me is stunningly wicked. As I catch my breath, he dives face first down between my legs. That same breath comes out as a wail of pleasure seconds later. Thatcher’s tongue slides through my slit, slowly. It’s warm, wet presence steals my ability to think. The way my hips jerk is instinctual, erratic, and wholly desperate as Thatcher devours me. His hands grip the outside of my thighs to hold me. His grip is biting, but I love the sting. I love that it’s him holding me in place.

“Thatcher…” I gasp as his tongue circles and plays with my clit. The pleasure that’s threatening to erupt is causing my body to tremble. I can’t breathe. His tongue continues to explore me. Everywhere it touches, I’m swept further away from sanity. I groan and buck beneath him. It hurts a little, but I ignore the stretch and pull of my stitches. I don’t care about the pain. “Big Brother, please. I need… I need to cum.”

Thatcher’s heavy groan against my pussy is followed by his tongue diving deep inside me. My hips arch and I cry out. My hand falls to the back of his head to drive him deeper into my pussy. His nose teases my clit at the same time his tongue continues to work its way inside of me. It's too much. The wave of heat and sweet torture that Knox and my stepbrother have worked up in me are too much to tamp down. Not that I would ever want to.

My cry of ecstasy is loud. It bounces off the glass around us just as the dark sky overhead opens up and rain pelts down on the roof. Thatcher doesn’t stop. One hand leaves my thigh, only to dive into my pussy while his mouth latches back onto my clit.

“Thatcher! Thatcher! ” My stepbrother’s name is a chant, a plea, a desperate song I send out into the universe.

When another orgasm rolls through, it’s more intense than the first. No sound emerges from my lips as they part. My hips jerk upward into Thatcher’s face as I chase the pleasure he’s evoked. Only when I’m a quivering, sweaty mess does Thatcher pull away. He sits up slowly. I stare at him through hooded lids and smile, smug at the sight of my arousal all over the bottom half of his face. My limbs feel like heavy noodles as fatigue blankets me.

“Feel better, Big Brother?”

Thatcher’s eyes flash with amusement before growing even darker. “A little bit.”

“I saved dinner!” Knox announces from halfway down the hallway. I can hear the soft sound of his footsteps as he approaches. “Hey! You can’t just swoop in and finish what I started, Thatcher. It’s rude!”

Both Thatcher and I chuckle. My stepbrother resituates himself on the couch, my legs back in his lap. With my desire temporarily sated, I can feel fatigue beginning to creep in. A nap sounds lovely right about now. I could fall asleep right here and now to the sound of rain pelting the glass above me,

“Is that rude? Sorry, I didn’t know. You’ll have to punish me for it sometime,” Thatcher teases.

“You said you’d tell me something if I touched you, Knox,” I remind him sleepily. “Pay up. Why are we having a special dinner tonight?”

I’m about to allow my eyelids to drift close but before I can, I catch the way Thatcher and Knox trade looks, a wordless conversation swiftly passing between them. Pushing aside my exhaustion, I stiffen.

“What?” A tingle of concern slithers down my spine. “What is it?”

“Shining Starr,” Knox starts slowly, coming up beside me and crouching down next to my head. His expression is carefully cautious. “Don’t freak out, ok?”

“Why would I freak out?”

My stepbrother squeezes my calf. “You won’t. Knox is just being overly concerned, given all that’s transpired. You’re with us, which means there’s nothing you need to fear.”

As Thatcher smiles, something hot and manic blazes to life in his eyes. I watch as the twisted, dark, obsessive need he told me about rises up for me to see. It’s ugly, raw, and all-consuming. It steals my breath and causes bumps to rise and race down my arms. I suck in a sharp breath. My heart swells as I stare back, knowing this is better than all the love in the world.

Thatcher’s right: there is nothing to fear. Not with him, Sagan, and Knox in my life. There’s something settling about that. Something so perfectly right . This life we’ll live together might be stained with corruption and violence, but that’s fine. I don’t need a life of sunshine and roses. I’ll walk through the darkness with these three by my side and I’ll embrace all that comes with them.

The blood. The depravity. And the utter devotion to one another.

“Tell me, Knox,” I demand, turning back to him when Knox continues to hesitate.

He smiles. It’s stunning and full of excitement. But it’s a mask. A frigid chill creeps into his beautiful, striking blue eye. I swear I can almost feel that bitter coldness traveling over my skin. It takes everything in me not to shiver.

“Tonight, my Shining Starr,” Knox drawls, his smile sharpening. “Angel Eyes will be joining us for dinner.”