Chapter 12 | Kate
TWELVE | KATE
Early-morning light pierces through the skylights above me, energizing the indoor plants that surround the perimeter. Vines cascade across the ceiling, their growth lacing through the rafters and dripping down the spaces of the wall between the massive windows.
Though it's a beautiful breakfast nook with a view of the forest to the right and the yard and ocean beyond to the left, it does little to dispel the exhausted fog that's been hovering in my head. My eyes are fixed on those looming watchtowers and fences, with guards—their solid statures look like gargoyles keeping watch. For what, I’m not sure.
This isn’t just a family that owns the town and an amusement park. There’s more lurking in the depths that I accidentally dipped my toes into, and it's sucking me in.
From the little I’ve seen of this three-story estate, I know it's massive. The kind of place you walk into and instantly feel small and meaningless. Weightless compared to the elegance, details, and expanse only money can buy. For example, the room they kept me trapped in last night. Where I come from, that isn’t a guest room.
Not when it’s nearly the size of my entire one-bedroom house and the en suite is as big as my kitchen with its white tiles and realistic-looking rock walk-in shower.
Sleep only found me for a few short hours last night.
It's hard to doze off into a peaceful slumber when a brooding man lounges in the same room, arms crossed, observing your every move.
Not to mention, my mind kept bombarding me with flashbacks of an unconscious man covered in blood as his life slowly drained from his eyes.
Carter would’ve rather been doing anything else than babysitting me, I could tell that much from his harsh voice.
It wasn’t until I fully turned around that I got a good look at him.
The recognition hit instantly. Just like Preston, he has a beautiful face and frame that’s hard to forget.
Jet black hair that’s effortlessly styled and cropped short at the sides, complemented by tattoos that stretch over every bulge of muscle.
Both he and Preston look like they were carved from stone.
Hard, mouthwatering physiques that would feel glorious against your tongue and below your hands.
Carter was the one on the boat talking to the man I watched Preston murder. The only reason I know his name is from when Preston growled it last night, when he thought I was zoning out while they were discussing what to do with me, as if I were a petulant child.
After Preston stormed out, I considered starting a conversation with Carter to see if it would help disperse some of the tension and allow me to settle enough to fall asleep. The words never came.
I used the en suite bathroom, stripped down to the t-shirt and shorts I wear under my uniform, and lay on my side, facing away from where he was sitting.
He dragged one of the accent chairs over to the door and settled into it like he had done something like this thousands of times.
His unrelenting focus on my back the entire night had my skin buzzing with unease.
He sips his coffee in the seat across the table from mine, those brown eyes boring into my face as I ignore the beautiful breakfast spread a kind woman set in front of Carter and me.
For being a prisoner, it sure seems like the meal of a queen. A pile of French toast is stacked like a carb-loaded tower. There’s a bowl of strawberries, sunny-side-up eggs, grapes, and bacon crisped to perfection, all accompanied by orange juice and a carafe of coffee.
My stomach grumbles as I inhale the delicious aroma deeply, as if the scent alone will quench my hunger.
As if he can hear it, Carter lifts his mug to his lips. “Eat.”
What if they laced it with something and are trying to poison me? Carter hasn’t touched it yet, so why would I?
I don’t even know where the hell Preston is.
I haven’t seen him since he stormed out of the guest room last night, leaving his friend to deal with me.
At first, I thought they might be brothers, with similar strong, gorgeous features that made my heart race, but whereas Preston has a more angular jaw and lighter hair, Carter’s skin is a shade darker.
His face is more heart-shaped with a shadow that makes your fingers want to dance over his jawline to feel the groomed stubble below your fingertips.
My eyes flit down to my spotless plate and back to him. It’s a non-negotiable command, but I ask anyway. “Is that a command or a suggestion?”
“Are you always this stubborn?”
“Asks one of the men who’s holding me hostage in a castle.”
He raises a brow. “It’s not a castle.”
Folding my arms and bracing them on the table, I lean over them.
“Could’ve fooled me. All it's missing is a moat and some archers. But I have a feeling that’s not your style, since the men in the watchtowers are holding guns.
If I were to gamble on my life, I’d say there’s more going on here than just a little lobster and amusement park business. ”
His mouth quirks, taking another sip. “And what is it that you think is going on here?”
I try to swallow the nervousness scratching my throat. “The Evisceration Cellar. You’re running an organ trafficking business for the black market.”
He chokes on his coffee, placing his mug on the table. He swipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Once he composes himself, he draws those handsome eyes, flickering with amusement, to mine. It’s not him who answers me.
“If that’s your perception of us, then the truth will make us look like saints.” Like my body is already in tune to his presence, that deep tenor floats across and lathers into my skin.
My gaze snaps to the doorway of the breakfast nook.
Preston is leaning against the door with his hands shoved into his pockets.
Unlike yesterday, there isn’t a speck of blood on him.
A pair of gray sweats hangs low on his hips, a white t-shirt stretching across the hard planes of his body.
Ink with patterns and script cascades down his arms and onto his hands.
I was hungry a minute ago, but now I’m starving in a different way.
Now I know what it's like to be entranced by the devil.
“Will it?” I counter, doubtfully. I watched him stab a man and leave him to die.
Preston breaks the threshold, stalking into the room. “Depends.”
I reach for the bowl of strawberries, plopping one into my mouth to distract myself and appear more unaffected than I feel. For a brief second, I remember why I wasn’t eating. Well, shit. If it's poisoned, I’m screwed. Although I feel like using such a simple method to kill me isn’t his style.
I get the sense he finds violence entertaining. In using his hands…
My tongue darts out to lick the glaze of sweet juice off my lips, Preston’s eyes tracking the movement. “Enlighten me then, Captain. I’ve heard the rumors about the tunnels and those massacres that happened in the park.”
“Drawn to a little darkness, darling?” Preston and Carter are wearing matching arrogant smiles.
“What,” I blow out. “No.”
Preston’s head slants. “Are you sure? You said it yourself, you’ve heard the rumors, yet you still found yourself wandering in the tunnels.
If I had to gamble your life,” he throws back at me.
How much of our conversation was he listening to?
“I’d say you’re dangerously captivated by your curiosity and wanted to see what it would be like to dance with the dark.
” My mouth parts, words escaping me. “I’d know precise knifework anywhere.
By the looks of that long scar on your pretty neck, I’d say maybe you already have been. ”
I’ve been trying to run from it. And somehow, I’ve found myself in this reality I can’t escape.
Out of the hands of one monster and into the hands of another.
Bolting up out of my chair, I push it backward with the backs of my knees. “I’m done with this conversation. I want to go home. I’m not responsible for whatever it is you think I’ve done.”
Storming past Preston, his eyes track me, raking over my body in the spanks and t-shirt I still have on. Feels like I’m naked beneath his stony expression.
Behind me, Carter exhales, “She’s all yours.”
Rushing out of the room, I turn right, trying to locate the nearest door to the outside. I need air. I need space. Funny how such a vast space’s walls can creep in on you.
I don’t get very far before I’m shoved forcefully into an alcove. My back slams against a hard surface, my body wedged between the wall and a rigid frame that has desire flooding to my core despite his cold demeanor.
Preston slaps a hand against the wall above me, trapping me beneath him. The heat from his skin drenches every inch of mine. “Where do you think you’re going?”
My eyes draw up to Preston’s. His smoky scent, twisted with a hint of fresh earth, envelops me, numbing the part of my brain that wants to fight back.
To slam my fists against those sculpted pecks that will probably shatter the bones in my hand.
My head is a warzone—the blasts and explosions igniting that sweet, sensitive spot between my thighs.
A flicker that damn well shouldn’t be there.
He effortlessly charges the few particles of air between us.
All my words come out in a rush. “If I’m going to be here a month, it doesn’t mean we need to breathe the same air.”
My fingers reach out, gripping onto the cotton of his shirt. But I don’t push him away, and he must notice because his lips shift into a smug grin that could have any woman submitting to his orders.
Too bad I’m not that girl.
Using all the force I can muster, I shove him backward. My features harden to stand my ground, though it feels like it's crumbling below me.
“Careful, Kate.” My toes curl at the way he says my name. “Your fight turns me on as much as your fear.”
I shake my head, attempting to move past him, but he seizes my wrist. In one quick, smooth movement, he spins me around, slamming my chest into the wall.
He takes a step forward, pressing me against the wall with his pelvis.
The weapon growing against my ass has my breath shuddering.
I’d say I wiggle a little to prove it's not his gun, but we both know it's a lie.
My traitorous sex-deprived body is acting out and defying my command to find this man repulsive.
He gruffly groans in response to my ass moving against his front. His fingers drift across the slope of my neck, pushing my hair to one side while the other wraps around my waist. The strands gliding over my neck make me shudder, jerking me back harder against his erection.
Yep. That thing could break me as easily as his hands could.
Preston’s hand cups the front of my throat before tilting and forcing my head back over my shoulder to meet those brutal, striking eyes. I swallow against his palm. “Lucky for you, I have business to deal with tomorrow and will be gone for the next several days.”
I try to withhold the relief from my tone. “Oh?”
His warm breath fans across my lips.
Doesn’t matter if this devil is in a suit or sweatpants. He holds the power to incinerate all my rational thoughts and command my body like it's his to own.
I am his prisoner after all.
“Don’t sound so excited. I said I’d keep you under surveillance for the next month, and I meant it. You aren’t going anywhere. Just because I won't be here to track you, doesn’t mean I won't be able to while I’m gone.”
What?
Without warning, his hands move hastily, wrapping something smooth and cold around my neck. Terror claws up my throat. I squirm beneath him, but it only reminds me of his hard length, fully aware of my body flush with his.
Nooo. Why are my panties dampening?
The cold feeling of heavy metal nips at my skin as I hear two clicks that have my heart plummeting into my gut.
Preston steps away, the loss of his warmth adding to the chill that skitters across my body when I reach up and drag my fingers over the collar ensnaring my neck.