Chapter 60
SIXTY
NEVE
The cold is sealed off and only the dark of the shelves and the scent of old books exists now. Midnight Blackwell’s lock is flipped, no alarm went off, there’s no camera footage—it conveniently glitched—and Detective Lincoln and his armed men found no one inside the bookstore, or in Darkmouth.
Cyn left for Tye’s, already texted me she made it in.
Now that it’s silent and I’m retracing footsteps like I can find my brother among the shelves, I’m trapped inside a Gothic fantasy with my hockey nightmares.
“Carl Jung, anyone?” I ask to break the silence, a smile on my lips as I turn my back on them.
“Probably shouldn’t start with The Red Book, but Memories, Dreams, and Reflections might be a more accessible choice.
” I duck down the psychology shelves, then squat low, running my finger over the spines of Jung’s work.
I’m in my red robe, a white cami, black sleep shorts, and slip-on black Uggs.
It’s not like I had time to change in all the chaos.
All the chaos which confirmed Tasia is fine, minus her phone. She lost it in a club.
So who took it? Who texted me? And if it’s Nolan, since when did he get in the habit of theft?
Or murder, for that matter?
He didn’t, the loyal voice inside my head reminds me.
The creak of the black floorboards sounds just barely louder than the drumbeat of my pulse in my ears.
When I turn my head, Sylvan is there. He folds his arms and leans against the thick oak bookshelves, the picture of ease. In black joggers and a white sweater that hugs every muscle, he looks pristine, despite the late—or early—hour.
“You don’t need to be here.” I rise from my crouch, leaving Carl Jung behind on the lower shelves. “Tasia might want your comfort, though.” I hate the jealousy that hits my own ears, but I need solitude.
“I don’t want Tasia,” Sylvan says casually. As if those words don’t mean something to me. “I’ve got you right here.”
“You don’t have me.”
“Oh, and he does?” We both know he means Faust. Faust, whom I can’t see, can’t place in the dim lighting of the bookstore. He’s lurking though, isn’t he, because that’s who he is.
Predatory. The perfect murderer. It would surprise me less if he were the killer.
“He owns you, that’s what you’re saying? And I’m just, what? Your little fuck toy to summon when you need to feel something more?”
I don’t know where this is coming from and I’m too tired to care. I narrow my eyes. “I never once summoned you, Frostbite.”
“Oh, we’re going with the nicknames from people who don’t know me? In that case, tell me you don’t ever want me inside that tight cunt again and I’ll walk out right now.”
“And go to her?”
“What’s it matter to you? I know a whore when I see one.”
Faust is still silent. Listening. Chilling.
I clench my teeth and lift my chin. “In that case, you’ve got what you wanted. Get the fuck out.”
He pushes off from the bookshelf and for a moment, I think he’ll listen. Leave. Maybe Faust will go with him. Maybe whatever fight he’s been dying for, he’s gotten it, and he realizes I’m right. He’s done here.
With me.
But he doesn’t walk away.
He steps deeper into the aisle.
Closer to me.
I don’t back up, but my heart pounds hard in my chest.
Another step. Another.
Then he’s there, and I twist, my spine to the beams between shelves, him crowding my space. He lifts one hand and I flinch, but he places it above my head on the shelving, creating a cage with his body.
There’s a frown marring his pretty mouth. “Why did you flinch?” he asks quietly, leaning down, breathing my air. “Who hurt you?”
I swallow, hard, but summon all of my ice. All of my composure. “I don’t need you to save me.”
His glacial eyes search mine. “What if I want to?”
“You’re wasting it on the wrong girl.”
He presses his other hand beside me, hip level, and steps closer. My breasts graze his torso, and I have to crane my neck back to hold his gaze. “Nothing I’ve spent on you is a waste.”
“Why do you want to fight tonight?” I keep my hands by my side; my fingers curled into tight fists.
“You almost let him in. We drove hours to get to you, to protect you, we left hockey behind, protests from the hotel guards, and you almost let him in.”
The analysis doesn’t take long. “So you’re treating me like shit because you’re scared?”
A smile hooks one corner of his mouth. I feel his cool breath fan my lips as he breathes a small laugh. “So good with everyone else’s psyche, Neve, but why don’t you let me probe yours?”
I press my lips together and shake my head. My knees feel weak, my heart fluttering like a butterfly, but it’s not light in my veins. There’s a shade of dark I don’t want him to see.
My stomach cramps, too, and my period will start soon. My belly is bloated, my breasts heavy, and as much as I want to fuck him, I don’t want him to feel that side of me. All of this is too much. The PMS, Nolan at the door, Detective Lincoln searching my home, this shop.
Mom’s text.
“Please go home.” I’ll beg if I have to. If he makes me. If only to protect myself.
But it’s Faust’s voice who answers, a shadow at the end of the aisle, and all he says is, “No.”
Sylvan’s smile widens. “I’m not going any-fucking-where, baby girl. You’re mine, now.”
“I thought I was just a whore.”
He turns his head and bites my neck, hard, then pulls back as the pain stings in my throat. “Shut up.” Then he trails one hand to my waist. My stomach jumps and I suck in, tilting my pelvis away from him, only for my ass to crash against the wood behind me.
Sylvan frowns. “Who got in your head like that?”
My cheeks grow warm in the darkness and I pray he can’t tell. It’s obvious with his words he knows what I was trying to do.
Hide. Shrink.
He drops both hands to me now, fingers finding my waist, flowing over my hips. “Who made you think you needed to be small to be seen?” He cups his hand over my bloated belly, under my cami. “Who told you this wasn’t the hottest thing any man has ever touched?”
My cheeks heat and I know I’m hot but seeing and holding those imperfections I’ve tried so long to keep hidden nearly breaks me.
I don’t speak. Sylvan doesn’t look away.
“Answer his questions.” Faust’s low voice is closer, and I see him over Sylvan’s shoulder.
“Who broke you down and built your walls?” Sylvan presses.
“Because if it’s him,” he sinks to his knees and a little breath of surprise leaves me, “there’s no need for a manhunt.
” He hooks his fingers in my sleep shorts and pulls them down where they puddle into silk on the floor between my feet.
The coldness hits between my thighs, and I shiver. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
Faust steps forward then and he doesn’t hesitate to grip my jaw and tilt my head up, kissing me at the exact moment Sylvan lightly taps my inner thigh and I widen my stance for him. His tongue licks me fully, flicking against my clit as Faust swallows my gasp.
This time, I arch my hips toward Sylvan, my fingers spearing into his white-blond strands as I jerk him closer to me. His breathes a laugh against my clit and I moan as Faust’s hand slides up my shirt, pinching my nipple as he devours my mouth, biting at my bottom lip and tugging it out.
His other hand is around my waist and I grind my pussy on Sylvan’s face as my tongue tangles with Faust’s.
He cups my breast, then trails his big hand lower, and I tense as Sylvan’s tongue pushes into my hole, my knees going weak. But Faust’s fingers are splayed over my bloated belly and heat rises inside me, not from lust, but shame.
I grip Sylvan’s strands tighter, but with my other hand, I try to push away Faust’s grip on my stomach.
He slides his arm from my hip, then circles my throat as he pulls away, pressing his temple to mine.
“No,” he says coolly as Sylvan fucks me harder, faster with his tongue, and it’s difficult to hold my eyes open and keep Faust’s gaze.
“This,” he squeezes me, “is fucking sexy.” He leans back, then grabs my jaw and forces my head down.
Sylvan is on his knees, his eyes on me as he adds a finger where his tongue was, then another, and I tighten around them, a smirk on his face as I do. His lips are wet with me, his eyes heavy with want.
But I see Faust’s olive fingers around my tummy and I frown in the dark, then try to twist my head from his grip on my jaw.
“Nah,” he says against my cheekbone. “You’re going to watch. You’re going to see me touching you. Sylvan fucking that sopping wet pussy. And you’re going to come all over his face with your eyes on this right here.” He flexes his fingers against the flesh of my low belly.
I bite the inside of my cheek and I want to argue with him, pull away, but I’m staggered back against the bookshelf and when Sylvan laps his tongue against my clit while curling his fingers inside me, I know I’m not moving.
“Say yes, sir,” Sylvan murmurs against me, letting his lips hover over my clit as he finger fucks me and waits for me to obey.
I glance at Faust’s fingers. Feel his tongue slide along my jaw.
But I don’t speak.
Sylvan pulls his fingers from me, puts both in his mouth and sucks them, then he slaps my cunt, causing me to gasp. A second later, three fingers are inside me, and my eyes nearly roll back into my head.
“Answer him, baby girl, or I’m going to make this pussy bleed.”
I don’t bother telling him I might like that. But when Sylvan licks me again, then uses his nose to circle my clit, his fingers working me over, too, I slide down an inch against the shelves, and my gaze catches on Faust’s hold on me again.
He curls his fingers tighter around my throat. “Say yes,” he whispers. “Or we’ll leave you here, dripping wet and half-naked like a fucking whore.”
“Yes.” I can’t hold it in anymore. Not with Sylvan’s nose and mouth working me, his fingers deep inside, Faust holding me so tight I can barely breathe, one nipple exposed, a sharp point in the frigid bookstore.
“Yes,” I say again, and this time, I look at Faust’s fingers pressing into my skin. “Yes.”
And I look so fucking hot.
I don’t know why I was ever afraid of this. I don’t know why it ever bothered me.
And when I come, I’m staring at Sylvan, at Faust’s hand, I’m gushing into Sylvan’s mouth as he pushes his tongue beside his fingers but keeps his palm grinding against my clit.
I’m riding his fucking face until I collapse, sinking to my knees, and Sylvan pushes me onto all fours, positioning my knees on my sleep shorts to cushion the floor.
He comes behind me, and I arch my back as Faust crouches down in front of me, his finger pushing into my mouth, his eyes on my bouncing tits as Sylvan pushes into me and fucks me hard from behind.
He doesn’t pull out, and he comes fast, the taste of me still on his lips.
And when Faust smooths back my hair with a gentleness I rarely let myself feel, I lift my eyes to his and I swear I fall in love.