10. Company
Company
Soriah
Z ade’s eyes keep swinging from me and back to his laptop screen resting on the kitchen island like I’m distracting him.
Sunlight peeks around the blinds shielding the sliding glass doors to my right, kissing the side of his face.
Leaning against the counter across from him and listening to the coffee brewing to my left, I watch Zade work, fingers flying over his keyboard.
Other than existing, I’m not doing anything to distract him.
A pair of headphones rests around his neck, but he hasn’t put them over his ears. He rarely goes anywhere without a pair. Sometimes, I wonder if it's due to stimulation overload, hallucinations, or a combination of the two. Or simply to shut everyone out around him.
On the rare occasions Mom could convince him to attend one of my volleyball games or gymnastic meets, he’d have them secured over his ears, but his eyes would follow me, a silent cheerleader to Mom’s outbursts.
Dad avoided going, and I didn’t blame him.
He’s more leery of being around large groups of people than Zade.
He’d make up for it by scooping me up into a big hug as soon as I returned home, telling me how good I did despite not knowing the results.
We’d share a bowl of ice cream while I gave him a play-by-play of what he missed.
On days that we didn’t win or I didn’t place, I appreciated those hugs and his re-affirming words.
I sigh, and Zade’s head snaps up, one dark brow rising. Smiling sheepishly, I wave off his concern.
“Just thinking about which sport I’ll try out next once I’m on campus. I might not be good enough to join a collegiate team.”
He scowls, immediately raising his hands to sign.
Don’t be ridiculous. You’re an awesome volleyball player and a talented gymnast. They’d be lucky to have you. You should definitely try out for the teams.
His words cause butterflies to take flight in my belly, warmth spreading upward and spiraling throughout my body.
I’m damn lucky to not only have supportive parents but a supportive brother as well.
Turning sharply around to the coffee maker, I use the excuse of grabbing a mug to avoid looking at him.
It suddenly occurs to me that what we did earlier could fundamentally alter our relationship.
What if he stops being supportive if things go south? Will family dinners and holidays become tense, awkward affairs, like when your parents invite your ex over, hoping you’d reconcile things?
Dammit, Soriah! Why didn’t I think of this before putting his cock in my mouth or sitting on it?
My hands tremble only a little, spilling coffee as I pour. Wood scrapes tile, and I glance over my shoulder to Zade prowling toward me. My lips part and expectation tightens my nipples.
What is he?—
What are you thinking? And don’t tell me nothing. I know you .
He does, doesn’t he?
But I can’t tell him about all the what-ifs swirling in my head. He’d blame himself, like earlier, thinking he did something wrong or pushed me when I wasn’t ready. I’m the one who interrupted his shower and spied on him while he was naked.
“Have you found anything yet?” I ask, hoping that I can redirect his attention to the problem at hand. We can explore more of whatever this is between us later. He’d made that clear. Really, I’m only following his lead by leaving the door closed on the “what are we?” conversation.
His eyes narrow slightly, but something in my face must hint that I’m not budging. He nods like I’d answered his unspoken question.
I did. And you won’t like it .
Dread sweeps down my spine. I take a fortifying breath, waving my free hand at the laptop.
“Show me.” I give myself a mental pat on the back. My voice came out only a little shaky.
His lips press into a line, but he silently stalks to his laptop, resuming his seat, and I trail behind him with my mug of black coffee; creamer and sugar forgotten.
Concern crinkles the corners of his eyes as he peers up at me, gauging my readiness.
My shoulders sink lower, losing their raised, tense position. I lift my chin, feigning bravado.
But Zade doesn’t buy it. The arm closest to me snakes around my waist, pulling me onto his lap.
I go willingly, sinking back into his warmth and soaking up his strength.
One finger clicks play, and at first, I’m not sure what I’m looking at.
There are over a dozen squares taking up space on his screen, all of them showing black and white images.
His hands move in front of me, signing awkwardly while I’m cocooned in his arms.
I hacked the ring cameras of houses in the neighborhood to see if any of them caught him on camera. I was hoping to find a car or license plate number. I’m still pouring through CCTV footage of traffic lights and businesses in the area, but this is what I have so far.
I lean forward, eyes roaming across the multitude of screens, and there!
Movement in the upper right camera. Is that Mrs. Dororthy’s house, two doors down?
A hooded figure, head ducked down, walks away from the direction of our house.
Whoever he is, he’s careful to ensure his face remains covered, hands in his pocket, but from the footage in my bedroom, I know he’s wearing gloves.
More movement on my left, and my heart seizes. No.
I jerk back, and Zade’s arm pulls me closer.
With mounting horror, I glance from the woman leaving her house, earbuds in, and the man walking from the opposite direction.
They’re going to meet in the middle. I just know it.
And I can’t tell if it’s because it’s dark out or if her hair is actually black, swinging behind her in a loose ponytail.
My heart gallops in my chest. It’s like watching two cars preparing to careen into each other, already predicting the outcome. Tragedy.
That woman—oh, my God. The screens in the middle barely pick them out in the darkness, but I can make out the barest hint of shadows, two of them. Sound doesn’t carry to the cameras, and the man never appears past the point he encounters the woman.
I jump off of Zade’s lap. I’ve seen enough. My hand flies out, jabbing a finger at the laptop.
“He took her, didn’t he? Because he didn’t grab me? Oh, God!” I pace away from him, blood rushing through my veins mingling with fear and adrenaline.
This can’t be happening!
Air saws in and out of my mouth, lungs contracting and relaxing as I struggle to breathe.
Tingles race down my fingers, and tremors invade my limbs.
I’m shaking all over, vision darkening, and then lips press to mine.
A tongue slips past my lips, bringing with it fresh air.
I gulp it down greedily, clutching Zade tighter and swallowing the air he feeds me.
I don’t know how long we remain like that, his exhale traveling through our connected mouths and providing my starving lungs with oxygen. My body relaxes against him. Strong arms keep me upright, and a hand grips the back of my head, supporting it.
We only jump apart when a knock comes from the front door. I swing my startled gaze from my view of the door through the archway of the kitchen to Zade’s darkening eyes.
Stay here. I’ll answer it.
He walks past me to the kitchen counter, swiping up two knives, one for each hand, before striding out of the kitchen.
If it’s my stalker on the other side of that door, he’s a dead man.
Zade
My lips still tingle from Siri’s kiss. And was it really a kiss or just mouth-to-mouth breathing until her panic calmed?
“Go back. Turn around.”
I won’t know now that someone’s at our door.
Craning my neck side to side, my shoulders relax at the crack that sounds out.
Adrenaline flows freely through my veins.
Neither Zeke nor Tito texted me to inform me they’re on their way yet.
The same goes for my parents. So, whoever’s on the other side of the door isn’t invited, that’s for sure.
Palming both knives in one hand, I slide the chain back from the door guard and unlock the deadbolt. All that remains is the bottom lock on the doorknob. Carefully, I turn it, then step back and to the left, out of view.
As soon as someone steps through the door, one knife will come to rest against their throat, and I’ll place the other at mid-abdomen level. Maybe I’ll cut deep enough to puncture an intestine. Time will tell.
I wait for the uninvited to take the bait. I’d whistle to let whoever it is know to come in, but really, only my family knows that signal.
The knob turns slowly. A steady drum pounds in my ears, matching the heightened sound of creaking. I don’t know if it’s my illness or if my heart’s truly beating that loudly .
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Hairs raise on my neck, and cold air races down my spine. If I turn around, I suspect I’ll see the vision from yesterday. So, I don’t. Blinking my eyes several times and mentally chanting, Not real, not real, not real , I keep my stance ready for the intruder.
My hallucinations will not fuck this up. Siri’s depending on me and by God, I’ll kill her fucking stalker so I can shove my cock inside of her again. Those brief moments of being nestled within her warm, welcoming heat wasn’t enough. I need more. Nothing will stand in my way.
The door inches open, tensing every muscle in my body. Only my nostrils move, sniffing down air. I don’t dare move my chest, waiting for them to move further into the house.
Another step and a creak. We glance down at the same time, wood groaning beneath our feet. Dark hair swings forward, resting against a familiar brow.
Fucking Zephyr.
I don’t think. My body moves like fluid, swinging through self-defense steps I haven’t practiced in years.
I swing a leg out, knocking my twin to the ground, and pounce on him.
Metal catches the sunlight streaming through the open door, reflecting my cousin’s shocked face as I press the blade to Zephyr’s neck.
He coughs then grins up at me, blue eyes glistening with more life than I’ve seen in him in a long time.
Confrontation excites him. Noted. I don’t let up the blade despite the taunting tilt to his lips.
“Going to kill me, brother, in an open doorway for the neighbors to see? Messy, messy,” he teases, smiling like I’m not seriously considering ending his existence. Then again, hadn’t I acted the same when it was Siri threatening me?
Damn.
My fingers tighten even as I tell myself to let go. We’re more alike than I’d thought, and the revelation doesn’t reassure me as much as I’d hoped.
“Sociopath.”
It fits. The lack of attachments—no friends, no girlfriend, no pets—his easy charisma in spite of all of that, and as he continues smiling up at me, I see it.
Hunger. Rage.
He wants to end me as much as I want to end him, albeit for different reasons. Or maybe our reasons are the same, and my diagnosis clouds it.
“Zade!” Siri calls, bare feet slapping the wooden floors coming closer.
“Kill him before she stops you.”
“Kill them all.”
“Zade. Let him go,” Zeke says, but doesn’t dare come closer.
I toss one of the knives aside, using my now free hand to sign.
Where were you last night?
His eyes widen before his expression shuts down. As his lids drop low to shield some of his eyes, I already know I won’t like what’s about to come out of his mouth.
“You think I was the one in Soriah’s bedroom last night?” His shoulders lift in a shrug, lips shifting into a mocking sneer.
“Maybe I was. What are you going to do about it? ”
“Shut the fuck up, Zef!” Zeke shouts, taking a brave step forward. My glare—lifting from Zephyr to land on him—halts him, bravery faltering.
For Siri, I’d kill them both.
Answer honestly, brother. Because I won’t slit your throat. I’ll castrate you and then cut you from throat to navel, pull your intestines out, and strangle you with them. And that’s if you’re still breathing after the castration.
With each word, his smile drops, like he’s finally realizing I’m fucking serious.
Who’s the sociopath now? Unlike him, I don’t offer up a taunt. My threat spells out my intentions clearly and I wait, body tensing to fucking follow through. As far as I’m concerned, my twin died in the womb, and this is just a shell.
“I was balls deep in some blonde at a sex club called Collar Me. Satisfied? Are you going to let me up now, or are you going to give our sister a show?” Like he’d planned, my attention swings to Soriah, standing a few feet away with a wary expression on her face.
“Finish him.”
Fuck off, I shoot back, lips never moving and jumping off of my twin. I march toward the kitchen without another glance. He and Zeke can burn in hell with the rest of the world.