30. Chapter 25
“You had heat?” I ask, tucking the blankets up around my chin. Even though the room is now warmer, there’s still a bite in the air. We went to my room after the men left, and have been here ever since, under the blankets, talking about what we endured over the last nine days.
“They kept the fire going for me most nights,” Cora says, “But the radiator worked just fine.”
Something ugly and green coils like vines in my stomach. Cora, it seems, has been perfectly fine. She even gets to feed herself. Guess she didn’t try to stab them with a fork.
“They even got the shampoo right,” she says. Her eyes move down to the front of my dress. “And our clothing sizes.”
I didn’t dwell too much on those details. I figured they have been watching us for a while, planning to take us for some time. It was the fact that they gave us things that made us comfortable that disturbed me the most.
She swipes her thumb over my cheek in a way that heats between my thighs.
“If I had to endure another card game with Viper, I was going to scream,” she says, smiling at me so brightly, I tuck my response behind my teeth and don’t tell her we never played cards. I was freezing, scared. Lonely.
Although I’m glad she wasn’t those things, I still can’t help my jealousy that they treated her so differently. I don’t understand why, but then she’s always been treated sweetly. My father dotes on her, always kissing her cheek, or petting her head like she’s a prized pet. Clyde too. He’s crazy about her.
They’ve treated me so different from her over the years, and as we got older it became clear, they expected me to be harder. Like Rune. Cora’s soft light and sweet candy. I’m supposed to be hard stone, unbreakable. Unmoveable.
I wasn’t even allowed to mourn my mother. Instead, I was drug to my feet, my hands still sticky with her blood and told to stop crying.
“Delly?”
My eyes find Cora’s.
Her brows knit. “Did Reaper take you outside? For walks?”
My stomach sinks. No. Not fucking walks. No niceness from any of them.
I wonder…
“Did Reaper….” I bite my lip. Not sure how to phrase the question.
“I’ve barely seen him,” she says, her cheeks turning pink. “It’s mostly Breaker and Viper and sometimes Striker.”
Satisfaction curls in my stomach, but then my gaze lands on the large, black jacket she was carrying, and I wonder which man gave it to her. That slick, gross feeling slips through me again, wishing they’d been nice to me too.
I don’t understand why they hate me so much. Why they’ve left me alone. Why they’re treating her so different.
“I kind of like not having to go to work.” She grins. “Or sit in another meeting.”
A chuckle slips out at her delighted smile. I smirk. “Or spend so much energy avoiding Zane.”
Her laughter loosens something in my chest. I don’t miss those things, but I do miss home.
“I’m so glad to see you,” Cora says, inching closer. Her toes hit my shin the same moment her thumb traces the cut on my lip. “Why do you think they kept us apart for so long?”
I have asked myself that same question so many times and the only answer I can come up with is, “Control.”
Her brows knit, but she nods, understanding. We were easier to control because we were separated.
“Daddy will get us. And Clyde,” I tell her, brushing a fiery ringlet from her face. A dark shadow passes over her features. “They will Cora. They’ll figure out where we are and come for us.”
She nods, but remains silent. When her eyes meet mine, they’re filled with tears. “They aren’t bad, Delly.”
“Who?”
“Them.”
Them. Our captors.
“They took us, Cora. They killed Manuel,” I whisper, reaching for her hand under the sheets.
She grips mine and scoots closer. “I know they did, but I think Papa did something terrible to them.”
He took something from me.
“It’s the business, Cora,” I say. “You know Daddy and Clyde do what they have to do.”
Cora shakes her head. “Most things, though, they don’t have to do. They choose to.”
I flip over onto my back, and she slides over, tucking herself against me, resting her head on my shoulder.
“Go to sleep,” I whisper, wondering if they’ll come get us for breakfast in the morning.
We haven’t seen them in hours, and they never came to get us for dinner. I close my eyes, imagining Reaper’s black hair and solid body. The brush of his hand over my hair. The feel of his lips on mine. Hard and soft. Pain and pleasure. Striker’s warm brown eyes and the way he watches me. Breaker’s laughter whenever I make a snarky comment. Viper’s slightly feral energy.
They aren’t bad. Not entirely.
They aren’t good either.
***
Cora’s whimper drags me from sleep. I blink at the bright lamplight she insists stays on, and I roll over to find her curled into a ball. Gripping her shoulder, I shake her, but she doesn’t wake.
The nightmares began when she was around six. We grew up together, our parents’ best friends and business partners, before my father became well known in his circle. After they died and Cora came to live with us, it was usually me who woke her from the nightmares. I’d shake her awake, then climb into bed with her afterwards, holding her as she cried.
She never told me what they were about, just that she dreamed of darkness, and I wonder if anyone held her or woke her up in the last few days. I hope they did.
“Cora,” I whisper, trying to ease her out of the dream. Her eyes pop open and a burst of air escapes her lungs. “You’re okay,” I tell her, brushing hair from her face. “You’re with me.”
A tear slips from her eye and she flings an arm around my neck and buries her face in my chest, tucking her head under my chin. My heart twists painfully. I hate that she’s been so scared. Hate that she has nightmares, and is suffering because this entire situation feels like my fault. I wanted the wild night. I wanted to feel free. I wanted to feel sexy, adventurous, everything my stupid ex never saw me as. It’s my father they want revenge on.
“I’m sorry,” I say into her hair. “This is all my fault.” I feel her shake her head under my chin.
She backs away and tilts her face up, her mouth a breath away from mine as she rests her head on the pillow by me. “This is Rune’s fault. He did something terrible. I just know it.” Her eyes drop to my mouth. “He’s not what you think he is.”
An uneasy feeling slithers through my belly. That’s exactly what Striker said.
“If Rune Gavin is bad, then so am I,” I say, remembering Reaper’s words. I’m Rune’s blood. He’s taught me everything I know. I willingly work for him, for his company. We both do, Cora and I. We cover up whatever he’s doing with numbers and lies. He could be selling drugs for all I know. Feeding heroine to mothers and father’s, someone’s sister or brother. And I help him.
Even though I don’t know where his money comes from, Cora and I both know it’s from criminal activity. Buying an entire hotel chain cost a hefty sum, but the excess….
I don’t ask. I see numbers and hide the figures so the IRS doesn’t investigate. When he is granted an enormous sum, like he is once a year, millions that come from nowhere, I have to set up channels to hide it. Cora and I are experts at hiding the money trail, tying them up in real estate sales for exorbitant amounts and over priced hotel fees. Luxury expenses or his favorite—his lodge membership fees.
“Delly,” she whispers, bringing my thoughts back to her. Her leg slides over mine, and she hitches it up to my hip, wrapping her thigh over mine and using it to pull me close. “You’re nothing like him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shakes her head, scooting even closer so my hand is trapped between our bodies. I’m aware of her nearness and the thin satin of her nightgown. Of her warm skin and how the silky material has slipped up and heat radiates from between her legs. Her green eyes move over my face, then drop again to my lips.
“I missed you,” she says, lifting a finger to run it over my lips.
My mind flashes on her mouth pressed to mine, the desperation coursing through me into her. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe she fed it to me and I ate every ounce, grateful to have her near me again.
Cora’s thumb presses into the center of my lips and I brush the finger on the hand between us along her belly. She makes this tiny sound and tilts her hips. I do it again. She slides her hands into my hair, cupping the back of my neck, inhaling slowly, watching my eyes. Our noses brush and we keep our eyes open as our lips touch. Breaths slip out in a heated rush. I pull my other hand from under the blankets and drag it over her bare arm, letting it slide down further. Over her hip, along her outer thigh. Lower.
Cora’s eyelids flutter as I brush my knuckles to her inner thigh. Her breaths hitch delicately when I slide my hand up and feel the heat of her skin.
Our lips press harder together as my thumb glides over her panties, feeling her clit. She releases a little moan and then her hands are moving, and she’s rising over me. Pushing me onto my back, capturing my lips in a harsh kiss. Slipping her tongue into my mouth and groaning as she dips it deeper. Toothpaste and sweetness floods my tongue. Something delicate and desperate. As the blankets are tossed aside, she straddles my hips, and my fingers slip under the material of her panties into her wet heat. Our kiss breaks on a gasp and her heads thrown back, the fragile lines of her neck shadowed in the tungsten light and then she’s riding my hand.
For a millisecond, I marvel at her tightness. How wet she feels, how slick and delicious my fingers feel slipping in and out as my thumb drags wetness over her sensitive little bud. How she feels like me, all slick and soft and greedy.
“Oh fuck,” she whispers, grinding down. “I need you.”
My belly flutters. My pussy clenches. An ache deep in my core grates inside against my spine.
With my hand still inside her, she props herself on hands and knees, back arching into my touch like a cat when my thumb rubs harshly into her clit.
“Lift your hips,” she whispers, and I immediately obey.
She gathers my nightgown and tugs it until my breasts are exposed. When she captures a hardened nipple between her teeth, I cry out, driving my fingers deeper into her. When she slips my underwear down enough to press her mouth to my lower belly, I gasp. Hot lips trail kisses down to the thin line of hair and she places another soft kiss there.
“Cora,” I whimper, my thighs parting, legs falling open. Her fingers dip under my panties, cupping me, then she slides two in to me roughly, her thumb skimming my clit, fucking me with her hand like I am her.
“Ah fuck,” she hisses as I pick up speed. Sloppy wet sounds fill the room, both of us fucking each other with a frenzied rush.
Pleasure builds quickly, too quickly, and then erupts from me with a gasp. She follows behind me, her forehead falling to my chest.
We stay like that for a minute, fingers still inside one another, catching our breath. When I pull my hand away, she does the same and sits upright, looking down at the slickness coating her fingers. Green eyes flicker up to mine, then dart away.
I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Cora glances down again at her hand, then slips off the bed until she’s standing next to me, eyes dark, lost. Worried. Before I can tell her, we’re both freaked out and scared and confused. I love her. Nothings changed. That we’re okay. She rushes to the bathroom and shuts the door.
Adjusting my nightgown to cover myself, I sit up and stand, walking to the window. My forehead presses to the glass. Something strange roils in my belly, making my chest hurt, but I’m not sure what I’m feeling. We kissed the night we were with them. I watched her get railed by Breaker. She put her hands on me that night but this….
This was just us.
I roll around, keeping my head to the glass and groan. When my eyes dart up, I see the little black hole where the tiny camera’s tucked in the crown molding and I remember.
They are watching.
Always.
Heat travels to between my legs, making me jitter with desire. I must be coming unglued if the thought of them watching us turns me on. Grasping my nightgown at the hem, I pull it over my head and let it drop to the floor. My heart flutters, but I set my eyes on the bathroom door.
When I knock, Cora opens it a crack and I see her red eyes and tears on her cheeks, but when she sees me naked, the green flares brightly.
“Come to bed,” I say, pushing the door open. I grip her wrist and tug her forward. “You’re not allowed to hide from me. You’re going to talk to me.”
“Okay,” she says, allowing me to pull her out of the bathroom.
We stop at the end of the bed and her eyes move up and down my body. Drinking in my curves like I’ve never seen before. We’ve seen each other naked plenty of times, but this look she’s giving me is different.
It reminds me of the men downstairs. Almost predatory with its hunger.
“I liked what we did with them. When you touched me,” I say, my belly dipping from my confession. I never thought I’d say it out loud, but we’re not under normal circumstances. “I like kissing you. I loved what we did just now.”
She bites her bottom lip, meeting my eyes. “Me too.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“I don’t know,” she says, but looks away, like she does when she’s lying or hiding things from me.
I grip the hem of her nightgown. “Take this off.”
Her gaze collides with mine. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. I want to suck on her lip. Taste her again. The need to do just that makes my movements jerky, but she lets me slip her nightgown over her head, breaths heavier, chest heaving, nipples pebbling.
She’s so fucking beautiful. Fair skin with pale freckles along her shoulders and chest. Large breasts that I cup, pinching perfect rosy nipples. Her throat moves as she swallows, then moans, back arching into my hands. She’s removed all the hair between her legs and I can see the pink slit and her clit.
God. It’s no wonder men go crazy around her. She’s perfect and so pretty it makes my chest ache.
“Lie down and spread your legs,” I whisper, gently pushing her down to the bed. She complies as I crawl over her. When she’s flat on her back, legs spread wide, I lean in and whisper, “They’re watching you.”
I realized the other night why they took us. My father has been possessive of me my entire life, never allowing any man to touch me. What better way to get revenge on him than take his two most precious jewels and tarnish them? He has no idea if we’re being raped. Being tortured. The not knowing would be enough to force him to do whatever it is they want.
Funny thing though. I think these men are better than that. They may have sexual preferences that are outside the norm, but they certainly aren’t violent predators. At least, not with Cora and I. They’ve proven it every day we’ve been here. At any point in time, they could have forced themselves on me, or abused me in ways I probably can’t imagine. They may be a tad perverse by some standards, but it seems I am as well.
I spread my legs willingly for them, my pussy wet with my face in the dirt.
Cora’s jade eyes dart to the camera. I see the thought spark in her eyes and she grins and whispers back, “Then let’s make them regret it.”