Chapter 9
9
F or an unknown reason, I haven’t made another attempt to flee. Yet.
It doesn’t mean I’ve given up completely, but there’s something tethering me to the confines of this place, and my utterly confused brain can’t help but wonder why I’m here and what might lurk beyond the expanse of clear glass reflecting my outline.
Am I entirely messed up? Quite possibly.
Do I fear the known beast stalking me inside these walls, or the unknown creatures that might prowl beyond the safety of this perimeter?
To add to my state of confusion, I’ve been left alone since the events of yesterday. When I ventured out of my room after taking an age in the shower to scrub the layers of burning shame from my skin, I hesitantly tiptoed through the house, only to find everything was quiet.
My stoic, silent giant had vanished.
I’m ignoring the fact that realization slapped me harder than it should have. Someone who I should , by all rights, have been relieved to see the back of, I now find myself suffering from a nagging, ghostly sensation without. A feeling that I’m missing something where he’s meant to be filling the space at my side.
Like a shadow you’ve grown used to wandering around with, only for it to one day up and leave.
The living space was awash with lights, however, when I finally emerged from my shower last night, scrubbed raw and exfoliated to within an inch of my life. A fancy see-through gas fireplace I hadn’t taken notice of before now glowed hot with dancing flames. Sitting on the marble-topped kitchen counter was a pre-packaged meal, presumably left out for me to heat, along with a couple of pieces of fruit and a sealed bottle of water.
I knew there was absolutely no guarantee that I wouldn’t be safely eating or drinking something that hadn’t been tampered with, but it seemed like a lot of effort to go to when there have been numerous other opportunities to poison me or drug me again.
So I heated the lasagna, drank the water, and made it my business to snoop around.
Which garnered me exactly nothing.
If I’d been hoping to glean some morsel of information about where I am, or who this place belongs to, I was shit out of luck.
It’s no more than a sterile glass case, peppered with modernist furniture, all featuring shades of cream and tan, each in immaculate, unblemished condition.
Nothing looks like it has been sat on or used a day in its life.
Now, I’m left spinning inside my own head and have spent the better part of today lying around feeling confused. Mostly trapped in a cell within my mind, pondering what any of this means.
Why rescue me, only to hold me hostage ?
Where are the other two men from that night I foolishly allowed them all to do what they wanted with me?
Perhaps the most perplexing of all, why wouldn’t the man who has stayed by my side so resolutely speak to me? And why do I crave his infuriating, solemn presence?
As I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes, I hear a gentle tapping against the glass.
My entire body clenches, and I whip my head in the direction of the sound. Is there anything within reaching distance I can use as a weapon? My water bottle and an apple are about all I have readily to hand.
Except, the sight that greets me isn’t a man in a mask here to drag me back to hell, but a woman wearing a bright smile and offering a wave.
She uses an elbow to slide the glass door open, and steps inside wearing a matching set of peach-toned leggings and a workout top. Looking like the poster girl for any twenty-something woman casually making her way home from spin class. It’s so entirely normal, that I’m left open-mouthed as she lets herself in. The way she seems right at home, wandering across the room as though she lives here, makes my stomach immediately flop.
Is she with my giant stranger? Is this his girlfriend? Wife?
“You must be Posey.” The woman with rich brown skin, long limbs, and bone structure to die for, flops a couple of garment bags over the back of the couch. She closes the space between us, carrying a double tray with two coffees in her other hand.
“I was so relieved when the guys said you had come through the withdrawals ok. Those assholes cook up all sorts of rotten shit, and I’ve seen some come downs turn gnarly.”
She plucks a coffee cup out of the holder with her free hand, extending it my way.
“The name’s Keisha. ”
I blink multiple times. Am I hallucinating this? Because what the fuck is happening?
“Hazelnut creamer and half a sugar? That’s your go-to, right? Let’s sit because I’m sure you have a million questions, and look, Angel means well, but he’s not exactly a fountain of conversation.”
The temptation to sniff my coffee for poison is strong.
“So… questions? Hit me. I’m your girl.” The woman with a megawatt smile and perfectly toned thighs pats the couch cushion beside her. I choose to slide into an armchair on the opposite side of the glass coffee table.
“Go on. I won’t bite. Unless you’re into that kind of thing, of course.”
She settles back, looking at me expectantly.
Questions… yeah, I’ve got fucking questions. Except, my entire quandary is where to even begin.
“Why am I here?” It’s the best I can do. Everything I’ve wanted to ask feels tangled inside my mind, as if a kitten has been let loose to bat a ball of yarn into a knotted mess.
Keisha sips her coffee and tucks her legs beneath her. Once again, that gut-twisting sensation overrides everything, because she looks so at ease here; what other explanation can there be other than being extremely close with the man I’ve been stuck with.
A man I have not grown strangely attached to.
If I say it with confidence, maybe I can even convince myself.
“I presume you know enough to understand this world doesn’t belong to… ordinary folk.” She rests the coffee on one knee. “The night at Noire House, when you came with your friends… it was no accident that you ended up with that invitation.”
I swallow heavily.
“Certain people in high places, well, they can alter lives with a snap of their fingers.” She mimics the action to emphasize her point.
My pulse quickens. “Noire House?”
“The mansion where the event was held. This entire estate. It’s all property of the Noire Household.”
My mind races. That means I’m still in Port Macabre and haven’t been shipped off to some far-flung corner of the globe. “Do you live here?”
She chuckles into her coffee. “No. This might be my life, my work, but most of us, we come and go.”
“Then why me? Why am I being kept here? I’m no one special… I just want to get back to my life.” The wafting scent of coffee and hazelnut hits my nose, and it’s entirely too tempting. As I finally raise it to my lips, that first drawn-out sip feels like it’s accompanied by a cherubic choir.
“I think we can safely assume you are considered special, to someone at least. Although, don’t ask me who, I don’t presume to be given any crumbs about the elite Household members.” Her expression is unreadable. It’s hard to tell whether she means that in a way that should leave me feeling grateful, or turning my blood to ice.
“Those men—” It’s too hard to put into words. The jumbled memories of the night at the mansion, followed by being taken.
“You’re safe with the guys here. I know you have no reason to trust me, or them, but I can assure you they don’t mean you any harm. They damn near razed the city just to get you back from those assholes who took you.”
I chew over that for a moment. “The one who was here with me, are you two…”
Keisha’s grin grows broader. “Oh, god no. Those three are something else, I tell you. We might not do individual attachments in this world, but the likes of them , they play a different game entirely. A necessary evil in their roles they are bound to fulfill. ”
My stomach swoops at the mention of three men. Not to mention that she just confirmed her lack of attachment to any of them. Why do I feel like they’re something to me, when all they’ve done is use me and hide their identities?
“Can you tell me anything about who they are? I feel like I don’t even know which way is up anymore.”
“Well, you’re familiar with Angel… the one who’s been taking care of you.”
Angel. I fight the shiver that threatens to ransack my body upon hearing his name.
“More like staring at me and refusing to tell me anything.” I shift my weight.
Keisha spins her coffee lid and shoots me a look. “Angel doesn’t talk. I’ve never wanted to pry as to the reason. But yeah, he can’t speak, as far as I know.”
“Shit.” He can’t talk? Why that never once crossed my mind is a testament to how fucked up things have been mangled inside my brain. God, do I feel like the world’s biggest bitch for the way I screamed at him when I was still coming down off the drugs. While I can’t remember every detail, there were definitely things I said that make me want to shrivel up now that I know that about him.
“The others…” She starts, then pauses.
“There were three of them I met that night at the mansion.” I sit forward a little in my seat. There is absolutely no reason I should be so intrigued by who they are or what their part is in all of this, but I can’t help the lure of knowing.
It’s fucked up, and rather unsettlingly, I think I’ve started to make my peace with that part of me who feels drawn to this world in some way.
She glances at her phone, then abruptly gets to her feet.
“What I can tell you, is that we’ve got a night ahead of us that is most likely gonna answer more of your questions than sitting around here drinking coffee can.” She reaches over to hoist the two garment bags over her forearm. “So, let’s get you glammed up, and then I’ll bring you with me to Noire House.”
My eyes nearly bug out of my head.
“Come on, let’s get you looking hot as fuck. We’ve got an auction night to attend and a sex club for you to explore.”