45. Tess
TESS
I stumbled down the hall, trying to put some distance between myself, Blade’s room, and the insatiable hunters standing at the front door.
What I was doing should have been fairly obvious. Yet to my surprise, none of them said a word. Maybe they didn’t care. Or maybe they were waiting to see how I would react to the massacre they’d just unleashed.
When Cyrus’ machete dropped to the floor with a sharp clang, my heart stuttered. I held my chin high as she stormed toward me, ripping off her mask as she moved. Her broad frame blocked out the light from the living room.
I had no idea what she wanted — to scare me?
But just when I thought she might make a grab for me, she shouldered past, nearly checking me through Blade’s open bedroom door.
Blood smeared across the arm of my sweatshirt as she stormed down the hall. Unlocking her deadbolt with a heavy clunk, Cyrus disappeared into her lair, slamming the door behind her.
A moment later, the sound of water beating down from her showerhead reverberated out into the hallway. While she got clean, I’d never felt dirtier.
“Fucking bitch,” I muttered, pulling the crewneck carefully over my head.
Nash and Blade’s eyes dropped down to my exposed arms and belly in my cropped tank. I feared that baring my skin might have been a mistake. But then again, so would be catching hep B from whoever the fuck they’d just murdered.
I still wasn’t sure how to process that — the murder of it all.
Shock and childish relief battled for control of my brain.
The jealousy that had niggled at my mind earlier was quickly replaced with smug vindication.
For once in my life, someone meant it when they said that they wanted me, and that felt good.
But how fucked up was I that I wanted validation from a bunch of psycho killers?
Talk about daddy issues.
I should have been terrified. They could have been hunting anybody out there. How many degrees removed was I from being their next victim?
It sure seemed like Cyrus wanted me dead last Friday.
But she hadn’t hurt me — Blade and Nash wouldn’t let her.
Lawless as they might seem, the Freaks played by a strict set of rules — ones they set out for themselves. I’d seen it in my time here: the tarot cards, refusing to hurt me, playing fair during Fright Night.
It would have been so easy to break the rules, to bait me with a cash prize and refuse to pay it out, to keep me prisoner in their little house of horrors for eternity. But they were too principled for that.
As far as their hunting? I was no stranger to the violence of the world. There were a dozen people I could name off the top of my head who I’d give anything to hurt like that.
And even as the possibilities of who they’d killed looped through my brain like a film reel, my mind clung to everything I knew about them, everything Blade had told me.
In my gut, I knew whoever it was deserved it. Just like the men who’d chased me in here.
And for tonight, that flimsy sense of assurance was enough. It would have to be.
Clearing her throat, Nash set her mallet down by the entryway. “Dibs on the first shower.”
As she headed down the hallway toward me, our eye contact was charged.
I knew she wanted to reach out and touch me — I could practically feel the electricity humming between us — but she kept her hands to herself, leaning into my ear with a smooth, husky, whisper instead.
“Hope you enjoyed your night, Sweet Lamb.”
I held back the shudder she sent down my spine, but the blush that rose to my cheeks couldn’t be helped. And as she disappeared into the bathroom that connected her and Blade’s rooms, I was left all alone with my most unnerving captor.
“See anything interesting?” Blade smirked, still dripping with blood.
I tried to keep my face straight as she wiped the crimson-stained handaxe off on her shirt, the flat edge jostling as it rippled against her tensed abs.
“I… don’t know what you’re talking about.” I swallowed, lifting my gaze from the weapon. But her boyish smile made all the blood drain from my head.
Bad idea.
Leaning against the wall for balance, I tried to look relaxed as she strode over to me, Meanwhile, her gaze shifted between my nervous face and her bedroom door. Holding both axes in one fist, she nudged the door open.
“No? You know nothing about this?”
The creak of the door rattled right through my chest. I turned to look, feigning ignorance. But try as I might to furrow my brows, my eyes still snapped to the hard points with undeniable familiarity.
Blade chuckled, a deeper, darker sound than I was used to. With one hand pressed against the doorframe, she leaned close to me, letting her warm breath wash against my clammy skin.
My gaze flicked to the Twins in her hand. The smears of blood were distinct proof of the pain they’d already inflicted tonight. Would she deign to punish my snooping?
But I needed no reminder of the pleasure they could deliver, too. Even as she hovered over me, I couldn’t help admiring the length of the handles.
My mind flashed back to the first time she’d caught me — the Fright Night that had altered my brain chemistry enough to keep me hiding with this feral pack of lesbians. And even now, some sick part of me wanted to feel that again.
“God, Trinket. You look so pretty, all afraid and desperate.”
“I’m not desperate.”
“But you are afraid?” She shifted her hand down the wall, letting the axe blades tease the doorframe with a soft scrape.
I couldn’t hide the shudder the sound invoked, but I hoped to god that I could play it off as fear.
Apparently I didn’t have to. Shaking her head, Blade pushed off the doorframe, a low hum of laughter still rumbling from her chest.
I took the first deep breath I’d managed since they walked in, pressing my back flat against the wall as Blade sauntered off to—
“Where the fuck are you going?” My heartrate ratcheted higher as Blade disappeared down the hall and into my bedroom. I chased after her, balling my sweatshirt in my fist as I stormed through my own door. “What are you—?”
“Taking a shower,” Blade purred, nodding to my ensuite bathroom. “If you’d be so kind.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, spluttering for some sort of refusal.
But Blade was all too entertained by my outrage. “I don’t have to. If you’d like, I can go back and wait out in the living room for Nash to finish up. But you’re going to have to explain the couch stains to Cyrus…”
Heat flushed my chest at the threat. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.”
She shrugged, “I’ll do whatever you tell me to, Trinket.”
With a huff, I threw up my arms. “Fucking fine. Go on then.”
“That’s what I thought.” A shit-eating grin painted Blade’s lips as she disappeared into my bathroom, leaving the door wide open. I stormed across the room, tossing my contaminated sweatshirt into the hamper before sitting on my bed.
No fucking way was I leaving Blade alone in my room with unfettered access to my shit. Sure, I’d done some snooping. But I wasn’t actually going to touch her shit. Or, at least, I wouldn’t take it.
But Blade was a sick little freak. She’d probably steal my panties for a midnight snack or set a trap in my bed so I could never leave. She didn’t need any more of me than she already had.
“What a fucking bitch,” I muttered, arms crossed over my chest.
“You say something, sweetie?” Blade called back over her shoulder.
The bathroom was already filling with steam, but I could still catch little glimpses of her body through the doorway — lean muscular shoulders, spilled ink tattoos, and piercings in places I hadn’t dared imagine.
“Close the fucking door, you heathen!”
The request went unacknowledged though as she stepped under the hot stream of water. And despite myself, I was quite enjoying the view.
Too much.
I crossed my legs against my pulsing center, shifting my weight to alleviate the ache.
Need a distraction.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I checked for anything that could get my mind off of the menace occupying my shower: texts from Lola, posts socials, even YouTube videos.
But all the entertainment the internet had to offer didn’t compare to the allure of wet, steamy muscles just past my bathroom doorway.
I was about to say fuck it and slam the door myself, when a notification popped up across the top of my screen: Lionshare, reporting a—
“Loss?” My jaw dropped, unable to believe it. I clicked into the notification, shaking my head as the app reported one of my most sure-fire investments going belly-up. A last-minute costuming error on Sabrina’s tour, and I was down $300.
“Fuck…” I refreshed the page, hoping it was just a computer error. But the big fat loss stayed put, calling to me like an omen of future losses. What the fuck had I just done?
“Whatcha looking at?” Blade’s voice made me jump to attention. I hadn’t even heard her turn off the shower. Yet here she was, standing in front of me, buck fucking naked and craning for a glimpse at my phone.