Chapter Nine
I tried to step around the two men, but they weren’t having it.
I tipped my head back, surprised by how far back I had to go to bring their faces into focus when I was close to six feet myself.
Of course, part of the problem was that they were standing so damn close.
Twins. Identical ones by the look of it, right down to noses that appeared to have suffered multiple breaks.
“Zane Dum,” one said.
“Zeke Dee,” the other added.
“I was just leaving.”
“No,” one replied.
“You weren’t,” the other finished.
“Not without paying your bill,” they said together.
Great. Another pair who finished each other’s sentences.
They both wore black jeans and white tank tops that looked purpose-built to show off their bulging muscles, which they were accomplishing admirably.
Tattoos covered both men. One had ink over the left side of his chest, the other over the right, making them look like mirror images of each other.
Zane’s tattoo was a rotten apple emblazoned with the words EAT ME, while Zeke’s was a glass bottle dripping with what I assumed was blood given the vivid shade of red, accompanied by the words DRINK ME.
Then they folded their arms in eerie synchronization, revealing matching forearm tattoos. One read The time, the other has come.
It made me wonder whether they always stood that way round because has come the time didn’t quite have the same ring to it.
“I don’t have a bill.”
“You had a drink,” they sang in unison.
“I had two sips of it. And anyway, someone gave it to me. I didn’t ask for it.”
“You had a drink,” they repeated stubbornly.
“You need to pay for that drink,” Zeke said.
“Wonderland currency only,” Zane added.
“I don’t have any Wonderland currency.” I didn’t have any money at all. Percy and Lola had made sure of that.
One twin grabbed my left arm while the other seized my right.
“Hey!” My protest fell on deaf ears.
They steered me through a door and down a long corridor. “I guess you’re taking me to see the manager.”
No response.
“That’s good,” I continued. “I’m sure we can work something out. A repayment plan maybe.” How much could one damn drink cost? “Or perhaps the manager will actually listen when I explain I didn’t ask for a drink.”
I twisted against their grip, trying to wrench an arm free, but it was useless. What was it with people in Wonderland and absurd grip strength? First Percy and Lola, and now these two. At least the twins had enough muscle to justify it.
“Who’s the manager?” I asked.
More silence.
I let out a sigh and gave up fighting. More walking followed.
More turns. This place was a maze, and an empty one at that, considering we didn’t pass a single soul.
Eventually, we reached another door. Zeke opened it, and a slight shove from Zane sent me stumbling across the threshold.
By the time I caught myself, the door had already slammed shut behind me.
The room appeared to function as an office, though an excessively luxurious one. Nearly half the space served as a sitting area, complete with towering bookshelves and an enormous black leather chair.
What stood out most, however, was the desk. Or rather, that nobody sat behind it. There was no one in the room at all.
I swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. “Where’s the manager?”
“We didn’t bring you to see the manager,” Zane said.
“We didn’t,” Zeke agreed.
“Then why drag me all the way back here?” Were they seriously going to kill me over one drink?
Anywhere else, the thought would’ve been ridiculous.
Here, though? Omar had already made it painfully clear that normal rules didn’t apply in Wonderland.
I’d seen enough evidence of that already.
People tattooed against their will. Human art installations that didn’t appear entirely voluntary.
A man dragged away from his girlfriend because some spoiled rich asshole pointed at him like he was selecting something from a menu.
And that was without going even further back to my entire reason for being here: Warren’s abduction in a van carrying Wonderland’s name.
“For payment,” they said together.
I shook my head, frustration rising. “I already told you I don’t have any money. Not Wonderland currency—whatever the fuck that even is—and not normal money, either. I had some, but it got taken off me. Along with my phone. Along with my actual clothes.”
Zeke tilted his head slightly. “These aren’t your clothes?”
I glared at him. “No. I generally prefer not to dress like a male prostitute. Frankly, after the amount of groping I’ve endured tonight, I should be charging you.”
Part of me recognized that antagonizing two men who looked capable of snapping me in half probably wasn’t the best approach, but it had been a shit day.
Hell, it had been a truly spectacularly awful few days.
My life had spiraled out of control the moment I’d decided to go out and buy milk.
If only Warren and I had just eaten toast, none of this would’ve happened.
Neither of us even took milk in tea or coffee.
Zeke’s gaze drifted slowly over me, the temperature in the room seeming to rise several degrees. “They suit you.”
“Yeah,” Zane agreed, doing his own share of ogling me unabashedly.
“Fuck off.” I said.
“We accept other forms of payment,” Zeke said with a slight smirk.
“What other forms of payment?” I already knew what he meant. I wasn’t that clueless. “What part of me saying I’m not a prostitute wasn’t clear?”
Zeke’s grin widened, giving me the uncomfortable impression that he enjoyed mouthy people.
Zane wandered over to the desk and picked up the phone. “If you won’t pay, we'll have to report it.”
“Report it,” Zeke echoed.
“To whom?”
“The Harts.”
The fucking Harts. Great. “And then what happens?”
The twins exchanged a glance before shrugging. “One of them comes here,” Zeke said eventually. “Could be Queenie. Could be Henry.” His gaze swept over me again, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “Could be Kellan.”
“It’ll probably be Kellan,” Zane added. “He usually handles the pretty boys.”
My stomach lurched. “Yeah, well, he already took one tonight,” I said bitterly.
Zeke laughed, the sound low and rough in his massive chest. “He likes more than one toy at a time. He breaks them often enough that he needs frequent replacements. Might as well have one lined up.”
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was too dry.
Anything was preferable to meeting Kellan Hart face-to-face.
Maybe it was arrogant, but dressed like this, I had absolutely no doubt he’d take one look at me and decide he wanted me too.
Only sheer luck had prevented his attention from landing on me earlier.
Zeke lifted the phone to his ear.
“Wait,” I called.
He stared at me expectantly.
Was I really considering this?
Apparently, I was.
It wasn’t cheating. Not when I was doing it to find Warren. Because instinct told me that if the Harts got involved, my search for him would end right there. What was a little humiliation if it led to long-term happiness? It wasn’t like I was some innocent virgin.
“Which one of you?” I asked quietly. I looked from one grinning face to the other, my heart sinking. “Right.” They got their tattoos in pairs. I guess them tag-teaming people in their personal lives shouldn’t come as a surprise. I heaved out a breath. “What do you want?”
Zeke set the phone aside and moved behind the desk, opening the drawer. When he turned back around, metal glinted in one hand while dark fabric dangled from the other.
Handcuffs.
And a blindfold.
“We don’t want to fuck you.”
“No?”
Both men shook their heads. Funny how something you categorically didn’t want could still sound like an insult. I bit down on the urge to ask what was wrong with me and concentrated on being happy about it. “Then why the handcuffs?”
“We like them,” Zane said.
“We do,” Zeke agreed. “Makes things more fun.”
“And the blindfold?”
Another synchronized shrug.
Given that there were two of them and both looked capable of bench-pressing me without effort, it made little difference whether they handcuffed me.
If they got rough, I wouldn’t stand a chance either way.
I could argue, or I could just get it over with quickly.
And if I were honest, the blindfold was kind of a relief.
Not having to look at them while they did whatever they planned to do—my assumption being I’d end up blowing them both—would make it feel less intimate. Or at least I hoped so.
“Fine,” I said at last.
“Turn around,” Zeke instructed.
“Hands behind your back,” Zane added.
I obeyed, though a sharp spike of doubt hit the moment cold metal closed around my wrists. The click of the cuffs locking into place made it clear changing my mind wasn’t an option.
I turned back toward them. “You do have the key, right?”
Zane patted his pockets theatrically.
“Not funny.”
Zeke grinned and held up a tiny silver key before placing it deliberately on the corner of the desk.
I stared at it, memorizing the exact position just as the blindfold slid into place.
It didn’t leave everything completely dark.
There was a small sliver of light visible through the small gap at the bottom.
I tried to tilt my head back to see more than the carpet, but anything else remained frustratingly out of reach.
Then came silence. And waiting.
My pulse climbed steadily with every passing second.
“Are you still there?” I asked when I couldn’t take it any longer.
“Still here,” one answered.
“Just looking,” said the other.
Without sight, their voices blended together until I couldn’t tell them apart anymore, and somehow that made the whole situation even stranger.
I tried telling myself it didn’t matter, that this might actually be easier if I thought of them as one person.
Yeah, right, my subconscious snorted. One man with two cocks.
A hand settled against my chest and guided me across the room. I had no idea whether they were moving me closer to the desk or farther from it. I’d already lost all sense of direction.
The hand lingered, its fingers lazily sliding toward the lacing of the leather vest, which exposed strips of bare skin beneath. Another hand landed on my thigh.
Then, suddenly, hands were everywhere.
My abdomen. My waist. My arse. My chest. And eventually, my crotch.
They stroked over the leather slowly, teasingly, touching and retreating only to return moments later. Or maybe they didn’t return. Maybe it was the other twin taking over. It was impossible to tell.
A thumb brushed over my lower lip, and I jerked my head back instinctively, earning low laughter in response.
This wasn’t going the way I’d expected.
I’d expected to be pushed to my knees and ordered to service them. Instead, I was being touched like something precious. Admired. Worshiped, almost. It was deeply confusing, especially because no matter how much my brain insisted the situation was bizarre, my body seemed perfectly happy with it.
A hand returned to my crotch, stroking the thickening length beneath the leather. “Let me suck you,” I said almost desperately. “Both of you.”
No answer.
“Come on,” I pressed, almost pleading now. “I’ll make it good.”
My logic was simple. If I blew them, this would end faster before I completely humiliated myself.
The leather trousers were already being unfastened, neither man paying the slightest bit of attention to what I was saying. With my hands cuffed behind my back, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop them.
My pretense of not being aroused became pointless once someone shoved the trousers down to mid-thigh. My stiff cock gave me away immediately.
One twin grabbed a handful of my bare arse and squeezed hard enough to make me inhale sharply. Had they lied about not wanting to fuck me? More concerningly, why had that thought become so much less abhorrent in such a brief space of time?
The soft click of a cap being opened sounded nearby.
Then a slick palm wrapped around my cock.
I groaned before I could stop myself while another hand—same twin, different twin, who the hell knew anymore?—cupped and fondled my balls.
He began stroking me slowly, the roughness of callused palms only making it better.
I was going to come embarrassingly fast. I’d been wrong about the blindfold.
It heightened everything until every touch felt amplified and impossible to ignore.
I wasn’t even attracted to these men, yet somehow, they played me like an instrument they knew intimately.
Another hand slipped beneath the vest to toy with my nipples, and the combined stimulation of my cock, my balls, and my chest nearly short-circuited my brain entirely.
“Fuck!” I gasped.
The same word kept spilling out of me as the pressure built higher and higher. Then another sound pierced through the haze of arousal.
A door opening.
Footsteps crossed the room.
Someone else had just walked in.