Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“Byron, maybe this is the reason we’re out here.
” Trevel shifts behind him as we all watch Dr. Love and his serial killer beau, playing with flowers at the entrance of what looks to be an enclosed garden.
Pops of color sprinkled between the death and decay of crawling vines and barren trees.
“We were supposed to see Lemuel, and would you look at that… We’ve found him.
” He leans in to whisper in Byron’s ear, “It’s kismet , sweet fury. ”
Suddenly, Lemuel drops onto one knee. And if I had lungs that filled with air, I’m certain it would all gust right out.
Oh, bollocks.
I feel Trevel stiffen. I hear his crippled heart gasp.
“What the fuck?? ” Byron hisses. “Are they—”
“No…” Trevel whimpers as Felix Darcey drops onto his knees as well, grasping Dr. Love by the jaw. Both of them kneeling together in the wet soil, kissing fervently through smiles so bright, they’re fully visible from where we’re standing. “No no no no no… ”
A bolt of lightning splits the sky. The two men are still kissing as Trevel covers his face, gripping his hair in fistfuls and yanking until it stings.
“This can’t be happening…” he growls.
Thunder rumbles beneath our feet, shaking the foundation so thoroughly, small pieces of stone fall from the house beside us.
“I told you he was a tosser,” I tell Trevel, attempting to rein him in. “Not worth your time or attention.”
His face tips in my direction, and we lock eyes.
“Seriously… fuck him . Make him pay.”
Byron is no longer watching Dr. Love. He’s watching Trevel. I see things happening in his deep eyes, like confusion and hurt. Jealousy, even. All things I know Trevel is feeling… Only Byron is directing them at us.
“Let’s fucking go,” Byron hisses.
Trevel blinks at him, sniffling and bemused. Dr. Love and Felix Darcey are back on their feet, assessing the storm as it rages. Winds are picking up, rain pelting the surrounding structures. That must be their cue to leave, because they head into the garden.
Byron doesn’t wait. He takes off, immediately trudging in their direction. He’s now leading the charge. And we’re following, stalking quietly between the trees, hurrying toward the greenhouse.
Lingering back, I feel I should say something. My best friend is coming apart; I can feel it.
“I’m sorry, mate,” I offer. “I didn’t mean to abandon you when you needed me the most…”
“But you did,” Trevel scoffs quietly. “You always do.”
“Hey, now. That’s not exactly fair,” I mumble. “I’m never really gone , you know that—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he grunts. “Byron and I have been getting on just fine without you.”
He shows me a sneering smirk, and I roll my eyes. “Right. And once again, I’ve arrived just in time to save you from yourself.” Trevel appears put-out, but I continue. “Do you really think this bloke can handle you? Do you think he’ll stay once he finds out what you are—”
“I don’t want to hear it right now,” he whisper-barks to cut me off. “Just do what you do best and help me get my revenge. That is all that matters right now.”
I simmer inside while watching Byron Kang stomping along with purpose. I wonder how much he truly wants this revenge for himself… Or if it’s evolved into something else, the same way I’m sure it has for Trevel.
We sneak into the enclosed garden, following a long stone walkway that leads through the vast space. It’s quite beautiful in here—dark and dreary, but fascinating, nonetheless. Old-world, almost gothic design, with an ambiance that shifts from elegance to evil rather effortlessly.
A secret garden of tainted reverie.
We cross a stone bridge over a contained pond, with what looks to be an aviary off in the distance. Broken bird cages and statues.
“This place is… creepy,” Byron mutters, at the same time that I hum, “ Stunning .”
The path leads us to something of a courtyard, and then an atrium, complete with furniture, a grill, a bar, all surrounded by flora and fauna. The ceilings seem miles-high, and the rain pattering on the skylights drowns out our footsteps.
Eventually, we reach a doorway that brings us inside the mansion.
As we walk nimbly through a foyer that leads past a study, then a kitchen, it’s difficult to stay focused, even for me.
This mansion is a marvelous monstrosity.
The architecture, the opulent decor shrouded in darkness…
It’s the kind of place you read about in storybooks.
“Power must be out,” Byron whispers, then comes to a fast stop, huddling us behind a corner at the sound of footsteps and voices.
Peering around it, we watch Dr. Love and Felix Darcey padding their way, hand in hand, across a floor of checkered tile, over to a giant marble staircase. Once they’re out of sight, Byron checks that the coast is clear before following them. Stalking .
“He’s good at this,” I tell Trevel, who purses his lips to disguise a prideful grin.
We climb the stairs quickly, keeping our steps as lithe as mice. I feel Trevel’s zeal, the adrenaline coursing through his veins at being able to do this again. Stalking with a purpose. But he also seems elated at the notion of stalking with a partner , visibly buoyant as he sticks close to Byron.
They both have a few leaves in their hair, traces of dirt on their clothes and exposed skin. Of course, I know what they were doing before I showed up. What they’ve been doing pretty much since we arrived on this island…
“I hope you know what you’re doing with this Raphael …” I say, not wanting to sound like a parent, but then… If the shoe fits.
He glares at me and mouths, “Enough.”
I lift my hands, conceding. “Fine fine . Who am I to rain on your parade? I’ve only been by your side since you were six…”
“So long as we’re playing by your rules, right??” he hisses.
Byron turns over his shoulder. “Huh?”
“Nothing,” he grunts.
I chuckle and shake my head.
We stop on the second floor, though the stairs continue up to a third. The corridor is long and dark, housing many doors. But there are voices coming from a room at the end. Following the noise, I believe it’s my turn to sneak ahead.
Spots of dimmed yellow are popping up as I creep to the doorway— they’re lighting candles.
The room is spacious and elegant, with decor similar to the rest of the mansion; blood reds and black silk, erotic artwork giving even more of a seductive feel, especially with the flickering candlelight, rain and thunder outside the windows.
Inside, Dr. Love is removing his dress shirt, and Felix is emerging from the en suite in only his boxers and an oversized hooded sweatshirt that reads Johns Hopkins on the front. I turn to Trevel and nod him over.
“Stay close,” Byron commands on a breath.
He slips inside the room while they’re distracted, going for the en suite. With one slick, effortless movement, he’s in. I hate to keep admitting it, but damn… The bloke is very good.
Trevel and I scurry after him. As soon as we’re all inside the en suite, Byron leaves the door open a crack so we can hear them.
“What’s the plan?” he asks, confident but breathless with exhilaration, despite his strictly business demeanor.
“Tie them up,” I say.
“We wait until they’re… preoccupied,” Trevel whispers. “And then we grab them and tie them up.”
Byron nods, glancing around the room. “We’ll need something to tie them with… And maybe a weapon.”
They’re both searching for only about a minute. Byron removes the silk ropes used to tie back the crushed velvet curtains, while Trevel’s eyes set on what mine are seeing.
Ooh. Shiny.
At the large clawfoot tub, he picks up a straight razor from the side table. “You take Lemuel. I’ll take The Carver.”
He grins wickedly at Byron, who still doesn’t look happy. Does he ever? He seems invested, although I’m still not positive if it’s for his own sake, or the benefit of Trevel.
Would he really go along with this… all for Trevel?
Why?
The voices from the other room are rumbling laughter and light conversation. What you’d expect from two people who just got engaged , I suppose. Byron peers through the crack in the door. Whatever he sees prompts him to shoot Trevel a look over his shoulder.
“What are they doing?” Trevel steps forward.
Byron doesn’t speak. He just stares.
Based on that, and the audibly heavy breathing coming from the bedroom, I think it’s quite obvious what’s happening in there.
Trevel slowly steps closer to where Byron is blocking the doorway with his body. My head tilts. But rather than trying to catch a glimpse, Trevel simply grasps Byron by the jaw, planting a soft kiss on his lips.
Rolling my eyes, I busy myself with sharpening my swords, all the while casually peeking at them as their kissing intensifies and they paw at one another. Eyes closed, jaws straining, tongues fluttering. It’s deeply ravenous, with forced quiet keeping them in check. Like in the showers…
Anxiety overwhelms me. Not necessarily because I feel like I’m losing him… It’s not that. At least, I don’t think it is…
It’s just that I can feel their connection through Trevel.
I don’t want to, but I can. That’s what he tends to forget.
Whether or not I’ve been visible to him, I’m always there …
Experiencing it all alongside him. And this connection with Byron is a hell of a lot stronger than it’s been with anyone else.
The infatuation is there, yes, but it’s deeper still.
Hungrier and more devil may care . I fear that if he’s not careful, he’ll give himself—and in turn, me —over to this lad.
Fully , because Trevel doesn’t do half-measures.
And if Byron Kang can’t handle him, we’ll all wind up torn and tattered.
“I want to taste it,” Byron hums onto his lips. “Your sweet revenge. Show me , violet eyes.”
I’m surprised at his dedication. He’s so very close to diving off the deep end blindfolded, and it’s rather astonishing. I suppose it’s possible he could be the warrior Trevel’s been searching for. The one person truly strong enough to handle Trevel Fenwick…
Though it’s still a gamble I’m afraid to see him make.
“Partners in crime?” Trevel grins, and I’m stunned again when Byron chuckles.
That seems pretty rare. Sort of special, I think.
“Like Bonnie and Clyde,” he hums.
“Mmm… I’ll be your Clyde Barrow, baby,” Trevel beams. “You are my prison wife, after all.”
Byron shoves him playfully.
They give one another a final lingering look, and a kiss that’s too bright for the shadows.
Trevel peeks at me, and I wink. “It’s showtime.”