Chapter 50
50
“ N eed me to string you up in my workshop to get it out of you, little flower?” Grey withholds my coffee, a grin tugging at his top lip. “Do I gotta get you reacquainted with the ways I encourage my other playthings to talk?”
I roll my eyes at him before pouting and reaching out with grabby hands. It’s entirely unfair to brew me a coffee and then stand on the other side of the kitchen island, holding it hostage.
“I’m just curious about the other night…” My lips twist, and the simple act of thinking about him and Hawke and that kiss is enough to make my cheeks flame even at this hour of the morning.
“Ahhh. So you do spend all your free time thinking about me.” He looks victorious and fucking finally slides my coffee into my awaiting grasp.
“Well?”
“What do you want to know, love?”
“You haven’t talked about it, or mentioned it since.” Taking a long sip, I keep my eyes on his. Grey is impossible to translate in so many ways. That guarded exterior is so confident and seems entirely unruffled at all times. Except, I know what I saw, and that kiss between them was enough to leave me melted into a puddle on the floor.
How he could kiss Hawke like that and not feel anything seems implausible to the extreme. He walks around acting as if he has no heart, as if he carved it out of his own chest years ago, but this man is unbelievably caring. He takes turns with Angel cooking for us all; makes my coffee to perfection each morning, and he’s been responsible for all my needs since being here. Even if he doesn’t want anyone to notice the ways he takes care of not just me, but the others, too, it’s written there in black and white. Or at least in my case this morning, spelled out in the perfect ratio of hazelnut creamer to coffee, that magically appeared before I even have to ask.
Grey shrugs. “Hawke is Hawke.” Raising his own mug to his mouth, he takes a long sip before licking away the residue with a slow, thoughtful glide of his tongue. “The thing about Hawke Calliano is that he’s gorgeous—the most gorgeous of assholes you will ever have the misfortune to care about—but he’s also suffered unimaginable things at the hands of people inside this very mansion. He and his brother were the favorites. The ones who would be taken from their beds at night and forced to endure the depravity of sick individuals. There’s nothing more I want than for him to find some peace.”
I sit quietly, drinking my coffee and letting him share a tiny scrap of insight into both of these incredibly complex men—two of the three people I’ve found myself helplessly in love with.
“If he ever figures out what he wants, I’ll be here. I’m more fucked up than most myself. I don’t need him to do anything more than be loyal to me and Angel… and you.”
He crosses the kitchen to stand between my knees and swipes a smear of foam off my bottom lip, bringing that thumb up to his mouth to lick it off as he studies my eyes. “That’s more than enough. Sex? Intimacy? Those things are an added bonus, but aren’t the basis of who, or what we are to each other. ”
As I walk through the grounds of Noire Estate, my mind drifts on the tide of our conversation in the kitchen. Hearing Grey talk about his connection to Hawke, and explaining his ability to put whatever his own feelings might be to one side was almost heart-wrenching. The more I see them together, the more I notice it. All the ways Grey is so clearly in love with him, and yet he doesn’t expect anything in return. Doesn’t demand more from the man who he’s been by the side of for years. I hadn’t expected that sense of loyalty and care to run so deep between the two of them, and if I wasn’t already entirely captivated by Grey, that moment right there sealed it for me.
He’s capable of loving someone from afar, while kept at arm’s length, and doesn’t judge them for what they need. The whole thing leaves me hastily blinking back emotion as I walk with the heavy presence of clouds blanketing the sky overhead. A lesser man might have grown tired of being in such close proximity to someone who isn’t readily able to return those feelings. Not my Grey.
My steps trace the familiar path leading to Noire House, and even though Angel offered to drive me, I wanted to walk. For whatever reason, today, I felt I just needed some open air and space to think, and I always do my best thinking when I’m able to mindlessly wander on my own. The past week has provided a kind of routine to life, and my days have begun to feel tantalizingly normal. Which is exactly why I need this chance to roll the dice around inside my brain and just have a second to breathe and come up with a damn plan .
Everything has begun to feel like it’s easy. Like a future scenario where I live my life freely with these men, getting to be in each other’s company without a second thought given to secretive people lurking in the shadows, threatening to take me away from the life I’ve grown so attached to. So much so, that I had to look myself in the mirror this morning and give my reflection a stern talking to .
There is absolutely no guarantee of anything in this world, and while my men might have made promises of how they’re going to try and change the course of events that seems entirely inevitable, I’m left with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach anytime I consider if that future might eventuate.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and when I pull it out and see the familiar sight of Angel’s name on the screen, I can’t help but smile at his efforts to check in on me.
Angel:
Are you sure you don’t need me to come and pick you up?
I’m on my way into Port, but I can turn around and come back. It looks like it’s going to start raining any minute.
I don’t even have a chance to reply before Grey chimes in.
Grey:
Ignore his overbearing ass.
Take all the time you need, little flower.
Besides, I like you wet.
You two are impossible.
I’m honestly fine, Angel… but thank you for being so sweet.
Grey:
Hey. What about me? I’m sweet.
Angel:
You’re anything but.
Grey:
Our girl thinks I’m pretty damn sweet when I’m making her legs shake.
Hawke:
Fairly certain it was me making her legs shake this morning.
And for the record, no, you’re not sweet, Greyson.
Grey:
Screw you all.
Grey follows his message with a photo taken of him giving the middle finger to the camera. Showing a tattooed hand that is absolutely drenched in blood, and as much as that sight should turn my stomach, it doesn’t. I’m not sure whether it’s the revelation about my parents or the fact I came from within this world. Ultimately, I don't know what it says about me that seeing his crimson-coated hand doesn’t make me bat an eye.
I’m nearly at the mansion.
I’ll leave you boys to whatever weird foreplay this is.
Hawke:
See you soon, princess.
Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I realize the mile-wide grin is on my face much too late to stop it. Closing my eyes and turning my head to the skies, I puff out my cheeks because this is really the worst thing I could have done to myself.
By all rights, I should hate everything about these men. The part of my psyche that was supposed to alert me to danger was clearly defective when I was constructed, because I’ve been staring at a group chat with hearts in my eyes and butterflies swarming my stomach.
As the stonework and tiling on the rooftop of Noire House comes into view, I feel the splats of rain begin to hit my skin. Fuck. This would be typical for my luck, I’m just far enough away from the mansion’s entrance that I’ll have to run. Not only that, but I’ll have to run much, much further than I would care to.
There’s a difference between running for my life when I’ve disappeared into the forest and right now when I’m in a cute outfit, preparing for my next lesson with Hawke. He’s waiting for me in his office, and this is an occasion that I’m looking forward to much more than I should have any right to. Especially after he taunted me so ruthlessly this morning, bringing me to the edge of yet another orgasm, then left strict instructions not to relieve the unbearable ache he’d created.
I grit my teeth in the face of the heavy plop of a raindrop on my forehead because, goddamn it, I’d actually spent time making an effort today. Serves me right for ignoring Angel. I make a mental note to never turn down the offer of being driven to the mansion again by my beautiful mountain of a protector .
I can see his heavy, creased brow and concern as clear as if he were standing right in front of me.
“I know… I know,” muttering beneath my breath to myself, I say the words as if he can hear my half-assed apology for refusing his help today.
The furthest reaches of the ornate garden peel off on a short path to my right, and there’s a covered pavilion stretching around the edge of the garden maze. From the looks of it, the archways lead right up to what must be some of the rear entrance doors to Noire House, and hopefully, I can race in that direction and keep dry.
If it’s locked, then whatever, I’ll just text Hawke, and he’ll have to come and let me in. Surely, he holds all the keys to this place, even if only metaphorically.
Scampering along the neat rows of shrubs and exterior of the manicured hedge forming the maze, I hear distant thunder just as I reach covered shelter. My shoulders are damp where rain managed to catch me jogging the final stretch, and if I’d continued on the long way round to the front of the mansion, I most definitely would have been absolutely saturated by the time I entered the foyer.
Nothing like arriving and looking like a wet mop while making my appearance at Port Macabre’s most exclusive and secretive sex club. There are some days when I feel more at home in this world than I have any right to. On others, I’m more drawn to what lies within these ancient walls than I ever believed would be possible, considering my absolute non-experience with kink or public displays of pleasure before coming here. Then, there are days like today where I feel like a complete fraud, like my men are going to wake up one morning and realize that I’m nothing special.
All I am is a stupid girl running from the rain, with wild hair and smeared mascara.
As the heavens open and water begins tumbling down, with mist and dampness gusting through the open arches of the pavilion, my lungs ease after the quick burst of exertion to make it here. I tuck a stray curl behind my ear and reach for my phone to text Hawke and let him know that I’ve managed to get myself stuck outside somewhere near the garden entrance, but as I pull out the device, I hear a throat clearing.
It’s a noise that immediately makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
An energy fills the narrow space that I can’t quite identify. All I know is that my muscles are screaming at me to turn on my heel. They’re coaxing me to flee whatever this is, and yet I’m too sluggish to respond. Such is the foolishness of my existence that I seem to forever be stuck in place and unable to escape when the cold fingers of dread wrap around my spine and clutch me tight.
“There’s something rather cleansing about the rain, don’t you think?”
I nearly stumble at the sound of a voice I very much wish to hell I didn’t recognize. Especially not while I’m on my own, and no one is expecting me to be here in this part of the estate grounds.
“Washes away all manner of sins, does it not?”
The familiar flash of a signet ring catches my eye as the voice from that night inside the tent at Lilith House coils around my ankles, shackling me to the spot and unable to move.
Vitto looms between the arches ahead of me, and takes up so much of the space I would be forced to push past him. He separates me from gaining access to the mansion, and my only alternative route is to turn on my heel and march out in the rain. Every cell in my body vibrates with a fuck no at the thought of getting close enough that this man could touch me.
He stubs a cigarette out on the stone column before carelessly flicking it into the rain-soaked garden. The scent of tobacco and ash rises to fill my nose. This man is similar in build to Angel, except he’s got a thickness to his neck that makes him look like a bull, nicotine-stained fingers, and head shaved bald. Even though he might be wearing an expensive suit, everything about him tells me that this man lives and breathes the grime of Port’s underworld.
“What a timid little thing you are.” He unbuttons his suit jacket and lowers himself to sit on the stone bench situated between us. The whole time, beady dark eyes stay fixed on me. “I suppose I never did get the opportunity for a proper introduction the other evening.”
“You seemed to already know me.” My voice feels like it’s going to crack under the strain of trying to keep it together. I know what this asshole is capable of. While I’ve got a mind to attack him for what he did to my Angel, there’s something in his energy that leaves me wilting and wishing for nothing more than to slink away without being noticed.
Something tells me it would be a very bad thing indeed to catch the eye of this man.
“Oh, you’re quite correct there, little flower. I do indeed.”
I physically recoil at hearing him say those words. Hearing him call me that. My stomach lurches, and I see all the revolting, hateful flashes of being back in that place start to crowd into my brain. Was it him? Was everything his doing? Is this the man responsible for me being taken, drugged, and kept in that hellhole?
“What did you just call me?” I’m trembling with the flood of panic rising up through my limbs, numbing me, overwhelming me. God, I don’t want to lose it right here, not in the presence of this man.
This fucking psycho is the absolute worst excuse for a human. The kind who would have no qualms about taking advantage of me being incapacitated.
“You do love that nickname so much. The footage provided of your initiation was most illuminating as to how you best like to perform.” Vitto purses his lips and looks me up and down. The urge to vomit grabs hold. Is he telling me that he saw footage of my night here at Noire House when I first met my men? My blood curdles with the feeling of violation, of nausea with each second his attention lingers on my body.
“Such a shame we didn’t get a chance to truly see how well you’ll do in front of the camera.” His upper lip curls into a sneer. “Plenty of time for that in the future, I suppose. A pretty young thing like you will be in high demand. Very useful for our purposes.”
I can’t feel my face anymore. All the blood has drained from my body with the shock and disgust of what he’s insinuating. I’m certainly rendered incapable of speech, and I hate that my response in this situation is to lock up inside my body like this. It feels feeble, incapable. Why can’t I be one of those women who is able to swing a sword with a violent roar, rather than dissolve into a pathetic, soundless void?
Vitto gets to his feet, and I manage to take a step backward, maintaining that small amount of distance between us.
“What a pleasant surprise to run into you today, Posey. I wasn’t expecting anything more than a boring meeting to finalize the details of when you’ll be transferred to Lilith House.” He rebuttons his jacket and looks at me with the kind of sneer that only men like him, who spend their lives destroying others, can truly wear.
“I’ll be back to claim what rightfully belongs to me, soon.”