CHAPTER EIGHT
BUNNY
I’ve been spoiled. My tent provides shade from the heat beams penetrating out of the sky. Aries and the guys are out in this the entire day. They’re swimming in a constant pool of thick torridity. And the guys wear long sleeves when they perform. I cannot imagine that being comfortable.
I fan my face, puffing out my discomfort while registering the newfound respect I have for them.
Cross my heart, I will never complain about my shower being cold ever again.
Striking the hair from my neck, I peel my sweaty thighs up from the bleacher seat I’m watching them from, each inch of my skin separating from the hot metal for a greedy taste of air.
My face is pulsing away from my skull. It’s not helping that none of the guys have their helmets or proper attire on while circulating the meshed steel to come up with a formation that accommodates my silks in the center.
Aries is usually there, in the center, twirling and spitting fire symphonic to the strobing lights and music. But her and Duse are working out choreography with flaming swords and hoops around the outside.
I guess I just… get to sit here and look, uh… pretty.
What a sight that is right now.
A cloud slips into the left of my periphery, sparking a quick memory of the eerie experience I had this morning. I should’ve talked about it. That wasn’t normal. It’s not, like, I’m being stalked through fog and running into the embodiment of a nightmare on the daily.
Ora would be perfect to vent to. She’s sucking on her vape and shuffling to take a seat next to me. But it sounds like a fever dream to explain. I don’t want them worrying about my mental health more than they already do.
“Why aren’t you in there?” She points her blue vape to the guys all going in separate directions in the Globe, the rumbles of their engines pressing against her voice.
I shrug, using the back of my hand to wipe my forehead. “Razor told me to wait until it was safe.”
She laughs. “Nothing about that is safe.”
“You think it’s a bad idea?”
Her lips thin and she squints, giving me a convincing head shake and crackling a hit off her vape. “It’ll be fine. They’ve gotten really good.”
I don’t get to watch them perform very much. But the few chances I’ve gotten to witness them it nurtured this unwell enthrallment for danger.
Maybe it’s the rush of adrenaline that triggers the unhealthy addiction. That is the entire premise of Vore. It’s supposed to consume you whole, not leaving a single trace of who you once were behind. Not even in your own head.
Because it’s already there.
“This thang on?” Gwen’s voice booms overheard. “Oh, shit, that’s loud.”
My lips quiver, the laugh blooming up my chest getting trapped in my throat.
Her echoing crunches and whispered curses are breaking the sound barrier of the sputtering bikes, causing me to locate her dragging a mic out from the sound booth, her brows tight in frustration as she twists the microphone around and gives it a spank.
I probably have time to dash to the trailer and get back here before she figures it out, so I swallow my amusement and get to my feet, giving Ora a flat line of a grin. “I’m gonna run and get some water. You need anything?”
“Eh,” she wafts her hand, pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes. “I’m just helping with the trapdoor.”
“That’s a pretty big role,” I shrug, looking off to the guys currently waiting for her to open it… so they can get out. “It wouldn’t be possible without you.”
“Oh, fuck,” she hisses, lunging to her feet and scampering past me.
Laughing at her, I avoid Razor’s eyes eating the skin from my bones and start heading toward their ticket booth. Letting him confuse me any more today will result in me on the pavement without a pulse.
I’m already entering death’s territory by boiling alive.
Wiping my sticky hands on my shorts, the quick, abrasive blows to the ground behind me shred me from the inside out.
Stifling air races over my tongue, lashing around in a one eighty with saucers for eyes.
“Nope!” Razor attacks me, his gloved hands circling around my waist and yanking me off my feet.
Yelping, the terror flutters to immature effervescence, getting swung around and carried like a child. “I need water!”
“Then tell me that,” he huffs. With an effortless hoist, he’s throwing me over his damp shoulder and locking me in place, one arm belting over my lower back, the other behind my legs, and he’s hustling past the Globe.
I could kick and demand to be let down. He wouldn’t force me to stay bent over his shoulder while everyone stares and laughs. But he’s paralyzing me. He’s smoothing his hand up the back of my thigh and kneading the crease of my butt, once again confusing my dread by engulfing me with safety.
My head spins, latching onto the black fabric swaying with his rolling hips, and my thighs squeeze tight, fighting off the pressure that’s beginning to make me feel like a slut.
Their garage is off to the side, tucked away from the bleachers. I think that’s where he’s walking me to, still rubbing me like I’m his to explore. I confirm it by slightly picking my head up and peering around his trim waist.
“What’s on your mind?” he asks, stealthily sweeping the roughness of his gloved thumb down the seam of my thighs.
You.
My heart leaps with my stomach, almost growing the courage to say it out loud.
I just can’t. Not after saying lascivious stuff to him in the library and immediately getting shot in the chest with the reason I tread carefully with everyone. And definitely not after opening my legs around him like a vile whore.
Knowing me, I cannot separate lust from emotion. He’d break my heart every time I asked a question.
Gulping at my sanity, I silently let his brute hands brace my hips to set me down next to a spare bike in the garage.
He’s looking at me, though. Waiting with an impatient tic in his jaw.
“Water. I’m thirsty,” I hum, withdrawing my eye contact to avoidantly peruse the tools.
The heavy scent of tobacco lingers within the grease and gasoline, like the universe expected my filthy presence at some point and wanted to make this painful.
There has to be something missing in my brain.
The dirt and grime and disgusting odor of Marlboro Reds have me looking at the ash tray on a toolbox, zeroing in on where his lips previously met the filters.
It’s probably soft… and hungry.
A cap cracking spikes my blood pressure, the zap of angst pulling me out of the unsavory thoughts of what it would be like to kiss him.
My face flames and my head snaps toward Razor staring at me with sharp pools of calculation, the fresh bottle of water open and ready for my hand.
I laugh awkwardly, making the heavy silence even harder to breathe through and accepting the cold, sweaty plastic. “Thanks. Sorry, I’m really tired today.”
“Up late?”
His arrogance breaks me away from the whisper of a grin lifting his smooth lips, my shaky hand delivering the water to my mouth.
I just… I nod. Can’t really do much else. Because with how fast my heart is beating, I’m either going to say something stupid or rip him into me by his shirt.
Hydration is helping. A little.
Never mind.
Now, he’s shutting the old fridge and stepping closer.
He smells so sweet, and his usual suntan is extra warm with red watercoloring his misted skin, like a picture straight out of the smutty magazines Ora and I browse through.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Hm?” My brows flatten up at him, swallowing another mouthful of water.
He reaches around me, grazing his fingers up my spine. “This.”
I didn’t notice myself shrinking small. The chill of his touch running up to my shoulders is building me back up, enough for a little attitude to knit my brows at him taking the water bottle from me.
He smiles, slipping his hand to my lower back. I try to anchor my sneakers to the floor, but they’re stumbling into the motion, allowing him to pull me closer to the dribble falling from the bottle’s neck as he takes a drink.
He wants me to watch. And call me crazy, but it’s clear he wants me to take what I want—confidently.
“You’re… It’s…” I point lazily, gesturing to the stream of water dripping from his bottom lip.
He furrows his brows, lowering the bottle between us and angling his head. “What?”
The pressure sifting up through my pelvis is inflating my head. I get dizzy, drifting out of a lucid state with a target on his bottom lip rolling between his teeth.
I swallow. Hard. And knot my hands low at my waist to prevent them from clawing at his zipper. “You’re really messy.”
“So messy,” he whispers, his slick hair moving with a taunting head shake.
Please stop making this so hard.
My internal whine slips through my nose, my burning thighs rubbing against each other and my nails scratching at my shorts. “Can I go back home? For just a little?”
Sweeping down my visible distress, he raises the water to his sharp smile, pausing to bathe in how badly I’m writhing.
“You don’t gotta go home to get what you want.
That door closes.” He tips his head back over his shoulder, polluting me even more with the biggest smile I have ever seen carve around his canines.
My toes squirm in my sneakers, and because I’m clearly suffering, he coasts his hand down my butt, squeezing just enough to flicker the old bulbs in my slaughterhouse.
I have two choices, both of which causing panic to burn my ears. I can get what I need. With him. Right now. Or I can run.
Swiftly, I dip under his arm and veer around him, skittering past a tall metro of tools and equipment. I twist my neck to look back at him, but three clean chainsaws sitting on a shelf have me doubling back on them.
I can’t stop. I have to keep going. Even though that’s really concerning and I need to know why they have them.
“I’m gonna… uh, go do my makeup!” I shoot him a smile, visually trailing the shiny blades capable of massacre as I straighten my neck.
What the frick?
My heart is hammering for a different reason now.
I pick up the pace until I’m running past Gwen smacking the microphone into the ground, Duse and Aries lighting their hands on fire, and Xene and Cash shredding their throttles for donuts.
Subconsciously, I look for Ora through the pulsing anxiety. But I don’t have time to search through clouds of burnt rubber. I just keep running to pacify myself from the turmoil splintering my bones.