Chapter 9
NINE | TARYN
Ipeel open my eyes, the nightmare before me a solid, living, and breathing thing. Dread digs its sharp claws under my skin, pulling and gnashing to constrict every muscle in my body sprawled on the mattress.
When I woke earlier, getting out of bed and trying to put together the pieces from last night while I stared out the window evaporated the little energy I had. The only plausible solution was to drift back to sleep and shake off the frightening, realistic dream.
I did drink, after all.
I sucked down more alcohol than usual, and I knew it might have been my mind conjuring up and keeping me trapped in a realistic hallucination until I would wake.
But that’s not the case. Not even close.
I stare at the A-frame above me, inclining up and up. It whirls the dizziness in my head, and I have the urge to empty my stomach all over this expensive and soft comforter.
The natural, gloomy light from the windows on both sides of the room glistens off the dark wood paneling on the ceiling. I inhale deeply to help combat some of the nausea, but instead, it makes my senses aware of the faint stench of fresh paint hanging in the air.
This room was recently painted.
And if everything looks like it did when I woke a few hours ago, I hate that I’ll love this room. Blue and gold are two of my favorites, especially together. Which directs a spike of discomfort skirting across my skin because it can’t be coincidental. Can it?
I release a growl, sitting up to figure out how the hell I’m going to get out of this mess and figure out where I am. The second my eyes settle on the room caging me in, my hand flies to my chest in horror. The poor heart in my sternum thrashes against my ribs.
A man—a young man—is leaning his weight against the walnut vanity in front of the bed with a black sweatshirt and his hands tucked into his pockets. His hair is short, his eyes piercing as they hold me captive figuratively and literally. My body is painfully aware of his unrelenting focus.
I rub my eye sockets with my fingers and open them again. The familiarity of the man in front of me slowly appears through the haze in my brain the longer I scan his cut jawline and muscular frame.
“Sleep well?”
But the words didn’t come from his mouth.
No, they come from somewhere else in the room.
Turning my head, I lock my eyes with another person seated in the accent chair in the corner.
He’s nearly an exact replica of the first one, but this guy’s hair is slightly longer and mussed.
The type of hair that anyone’s fingers would itch to pull through.
The light shining through the arched windows near him reflects off the cords in his muscular arms and vibrant sage green eyes…
Noooo.
I grip the covers in my fists in a death grip, trying to hide my body even though I’m still in the same clothes as last night. The combination of their eyes on me is enough to scorch me to the bone and turn me to ash.
Their gazes are intense.
My mouth falls open while the one seated in the corner hooks his lips into a smile. I can’t remember how to speak, let alone breathe.
He’s the one who delivered my pizza. The ghost delivery god who apparently didn’t exist when I talked to Harrison Crock.
I manage to snarl, flicking my eyes between them as I free my anger. “You fucking drugged me, you motherfucker—”
“Ah, ah, ah,” The one leaning against the vanity tsks. “The first thing we’ll have to do is silence that foul mouth of yours.” My breath is ripped from my lungs. “You’ll only be allowed to speak like that when we allow you to.”
My eyes turn into slits. “Excuse me?”
“Rule number one.” The one in the chair cuts in, and I whip my head toward him. “Ensure they are happy at all times.”
“Rule number two,” the other continues, snagging my attention again. “Convince them everything is normal. Their minds are fragile.”
“And rule number three.” The one with longer hair in the accent chair snags my focus. These two are giving me whiplash with their back-and-forth. “Trying to escape and acting out will not be tolerated, and you will be punished.”
I shoot daggers at both of them, wishing my glare alone could slice through their perfectly toned bodies and bleed them out on the floor so I could run. But then I remember their rules.
Fuck their rules.
Counting, I hold up my pointer finger. “So, you stalk me.” They study my hand as I extend a second. “Drug me.” I throw up a third. “And abduct me, and you expect me not to freak the fuck out?”
“Language, Taryn,” the short-haired one scolds, and the hairs on my arm stand on end, hearing my name. “Unless you want to be punished now.” He shrugs. “Which Cameron and I are not against. We could also call Colt up here, but he might be extra pissed off that you took him away from work.”
The one lounging in the chair—Cameron—places his elbows on his knees and leans forward. “Brennan and I are quite looking forward to it, so if you want to continue,” he motions toward me, “by all means.”
I intertwine my arms over my chest and don’t let my concentration stray from him. “Both of you should go to hell.”
I don’t want to take my eyes off either of them since I have no idea why I’m here or what they are capable of. But keeping an eye on them simultaneously is impossible since they are on opposite sides of the room.
I am at a disadvantage. A tremble racks through my body at the thought.
The fire in Cameron’s eyes raises my temperature as we hold each other’s attention. A muscle in his jaw pops. “Do you use that mouth with your students?”
I shift uncomfortably. How does he know I teach?
His tongue swipes over his bottom lip smoothly, and I latch on to the motion. He has a nice mouth, I’ll give him that.
He has a nice everything. And, of course, that perfection had to be duplicated because God couldn’t just make one of him. And then I remember he said another name.
Colt.
Shit. Are there three of them?
I grip the bedsheets. The layer of moisture collecting on my hands from the nerves is too much to ignore. “I haven’t even been in town for a week. How do you know I’m a teacher?”
The twins share a look, something flashing behind their eyes that I can’t read. The corners of their lips lift.
I interrupt their private and wordless conversation. “People will come looking for me— They’ll wonder where I am.”
Brennan rolls his eyes. “You didn’t think we’d bring you here without doing our research, did you?” He swipes a hand over his cropped hair and drags his palm down the back of his neck.
“We couldn’t bring just anyone here, Taryn,” Cameron states.
My chest rises and falls, and I pick at the hem on the duvet to busy my fingers, tingling with fear.
Brennan continues, “Whoever we chose needed to have unique circumstances. Someone who could disappear without raising many questions because there’s nobody to notice they’re gone.”
Both of their voices echo in my head. Their words are on a constant loop that’s inescapable in my current exhausted and post-drugged state.
Out of the corner of my vision, Cameron rises to his feet, moving toward me as slowly as a predator on the verge of sinking its claws into its prey to render it helpless.
“We’ve waited a long time to find someone whose circumstances and qualifications blend as perfectly as yours,” he mentions softly. Almost lovingly, but I know better.
Something about Cameron’s inflection has my heartbeat bursting like the crackle of thunder. Tears form behind my eyes at the impact. He stands at the edge of the bed next to me, and I glance up at him, allowing the first tear to fall.
Because they know. They somehow know I just picked up everything and moved to a town where nobody knows me.
They recognize I’m alone.
Helpless.
And I’m starting to understand that their knowledge of my situation and who I am is greater than they’re leading on. But the question is, how?
“You need to eat and drink something,” Brennan says, motioning toward the bowl of fruit and glass of water on my dresser that’s been there since I woke up the first time to this nightmare. “It will help with the nausea.”
I glare at him. “How do I know you aren’t trying to poison me? You did roofie me—”
Cameron silences me by stretching for the bowl.
His fingertips reach into the blend of strawberries, sliced apples, green grapes, and kiwi.
He pulls out a sliced strawberry and slips it between his lips, crunching through the flesh and into the fruit.
The juices glisten on his mouth as his tongue darts out, swiping the sweetness away.
I swallow, wetting my dry mouth. “I’ll run. I’m quite good at it.”
“Please try. Cam and I have always found pleasure in…” Brennan’s gaze trails over my body. “…hunting.”
Cameron lifts his hand to his mouth, running his thumb over his bottom lip in thought. “I’ll make you a deal.” My breathing stops. “If you decide to try and run and happen to make it over the fence that surrounds the entire property, we won’t chase you. We’ll let you go.”
Brennan raises a brow at his brother.
“But,” Cameron continues, making my heart plummet into my gut, “if we catch you before you reach the property line, we get to punish you using whatever method we want.”
Brennan smirks, liking the idea.
Cameron leans over me. His hot breath skims the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“Even if you did run,” he whispers, “this property is eight miles of orchard and forest. Every way you turn looks exactly like the direction you just came, and Bren, Colt, and I have memorized every inch of this property. We’ll see you before you see us. ”
I remain silent and motionless at the thought of the punishment they would choose. I try to stop it, but I can’t keep the heat from rushing between my legs. I attempt to shove the thought away, ignoring my sick mind, but the more my mangled brain contemplates their threat, the more curious I get.
Brennan stares at me inquisitively. “Do you consent?”
Oh, God. But it’s a chance to escape without them coming after me. I should be grateful, yet the dread churns in my gut like a swarm of angry hornets.
Challenge accepted.
I inhale a breath, giving an unsteady nod to agree.
“We need a verbal confirmation, Taryn,” Brennan commands.
“Yes—” I choke out. “I’ll take the deal.”
Cameron backs away from me and smiles maliciously at Brennan. His head tilts. “I hope you understand what you’re agreeing to.” I don’t. I have no idea what I’m agreeing to, but if it’s a chance to escape, why wouldn’t I? “We’ll check on you in a little while.”
I snatch the pillow behind my back and chuck it across the room, hitting Brennan’s thigh. He arcs a brow at my attempt. “What if I need the bathroom?”
Brennan shrugs. “There’s a half-bath at the base of the stairs to the left. The main door is the one that will be locked.”
My blood boils. “You can’t just lock me in here all day!”
They start to head down the stairway, going down far enough so that I can’t see them but can hear their voices. “You need to calm down! We don’t want you to frighten them,” one of them shouts, but I haven’t been around them long enough to tell whose voice it is.
Them?
And then my brain ruptures when it remembers something. “My dog!” I screech. Wet, hot tears pour down my face now at the thought of Rossco alone. “Just please bring me my dog,” I whimper. But the sound of the door cuts me off, and I release a sob.
Rossco has been home all night by himself in the backyard. He must be hungry. Concerned.
Completely and utterly alone.
But I guess that’s one thing we have in common.
Because even with the twins and whoever them is in the house, I’ve never felt as isolated as I do now.