by KT Strange
What’s worse than drowning?
Hitting water at top-speed, breaking all the bones in your body, and then drowning.
At least, I imagine it would be. My luck, I wouldn’t even get knocked unconscious.
“It’s right ahead,” Grady says, pointing to a stand of trees. I squint in the darkness, and then I see them. Two man-shapes emerge from the brush. The headlights illuminate them, and Ky lifts his arm up to shield his eyes as we pull to a stop in front of them.
“Don’t bother cutting the engine,” Ky calls, as Beau stands there, looking pissed. He’s rubbing his fingers together, like they’re itching, or bothering him. “She was here, or someone was, rooted through the supplies, but took off.”
My heart drops into my lap. No.
We’re too late.
I swallow hard.
“She was here though?” I ask, slipping off the back of the ATV. My legs are jelly, and I stumble. Grady reaches out, snake-fast, and grabs my arm, before I can tumble and twist an ankle.
“Yeah,” Beau says, that one word laced through with pain. He holds up his hand, so me and Grady can see what’s bothering him. The tips of his fingers are smeared with drying blood. “And she’s hurt.”
17
Cordelia
The ride back was just as bad.
More-so, because we had more questions and no answers, and now Lacey wasn’t just grime, and a bit banged up, she was cut up.
The patch of blood in the way-station told us that much. And the raided First Aid supplies too. I tried to close my eyes on the cliff part of the trail, but all I saw were Lacey’s eyes, dark and ringed hollow, haunting me.
It just wasn’t fucking fair.
Why didn’t she know it was safe to come back to the Raven Brothers? I watched Grady’s shoulders the whole way back, noticed how tense he was, and wondered some more. Maybe I wasn’t safe with them. That’s what she was trying to tell me. With disappearing, not staying at the way-station, that was stocked with food, fire supplies, and sleeping bags… it wasn’t a full out cabin, but it was big enough that one person could theoretically sleep in it if they had to, protected from the elements. And yet, she didn’t stay there.
She is always choosing risk over safety. Which makes me think that the safety is the risk.
Grady kills the engine on the ATV outside the main cabin.
“Well,” he says, and that just sort of explains our feelings, the whole of them. The guys left before we did, the head start again, and the lights are on in the main cabin. Grady gets off the ATV and turns to me.
“What about this aren’t you telling me?” I ask him, not moving from my seat.
“What?” His expression goes blank for a moment, and then hurt, when he processes it. “You think we did this.”
“I don’t know what to think, but what I do know isn’t making sense. She left warnings in your website-”
“Not just ours,” he’s defensive, the light from the cabin falling on his face and making his eyes glow in the darkness.
“Right, but at the bonfire-”
“Which Ky should never have taken you to,” he growls, and the sound is so primal and deep it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Can you let me finish,” I snip, acidic and cutting. He sighs and rubs a hand over his face.
“I know where you’re going. We were her friends, sort of, she tagged around even if we didn’t want her, and maybe that’s why she won’t come back here. She’s breaking into our way-stations-” He stops and chews on that for a moment. “We’ve got to check the rest of them, but maybe during the daylight. If she’s holed up in one, I don’t want to chase her away from it. I want her to feel safe, somewhere. To have a place she can go that is okay for her to stay.” Well, that makes sense. A little bit.
“That Officer Bradshaw though, he had some ideas about you,” I say and I can see it in his face. He knows the case against I’m building in my mind, and he hates it.
“I would never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve to be hurt,” Grady’s voice is soft, so gentle it’s like a caress against my cheek, and he steps up close to me. My throat starts to get tight and hot and he reaches out with one hand. “Lacey never did anything to hurt anybody. She was a pest, but a nice one, kinda-” He pauses.
“Like me?” I ask and his mouth cracks wide into a grin. His gaze slides down to the ground and he huffs.
“You’re not an annoying kid,” he murmurs, and there it is, that damning, insufferable heat that suffuses my whole body, like a warm blanket from the dryer, wrapping me up and threatening to pull down all my defenses.
“It’s just weird she won’t come to you for help,” I say.
“She’s not going to anyone else, either,” he points out, his hand capturing mine. He pulls me to my feet, and I sigh.
He’s right.
“I’m just jumping at shadows,” I say. “Nothing like this ever happened in Twocities.”
He snorts.
“Murder happens every day in the city,” he replies, “you just might’ve not seen it. It happens out here, but it’s the nature of things. Circle of life. Wolf catches rabbit. Man dives off the cliff, hits the rocks down below.”
“That’s gruesome,” I wrinkle my nose. “Thanks for the image.” He laughs, the sound harsh at the edges.
“Way too many bodies in that lake for me to count,” he says. “Tourists that drown in the summer. Young guest trying to impress a pretty girl, they go too far, too fast.”
“Gross,” I add. I’m looking up at him. The moon hasn’t set yet, and it’s turned his blond hair silver-edged. He’s so handsome normally, and now, up close, I see all those little freckles on his smooth skin, kinda like the constellations littering the sky above us. He breathes out, his eyes flickering as they travel down my body, making me flush.
“Girls like my stories,” he murmurs. The laugh is threatening to break in the back of my throat, but there’s this weird hush around us, like the world doesn’t want me to laugh. It just wants me to breathe him in. He’s barely blinking, and I’m hardly breathing because…
“I’m not a girl,” I protest, but there’s no heat in it. He smiles.
“Like I said,” his voice is husky. “You’re not an annoying kid.” His eyes slide shut.
Oh.
His lips press over mine as he bends down, his arm scooping into the small of my back. And there’s a chance he’s a cold-blooded murderer, and he’s trying to distract me, but-
It’s so warm. The rush in my veins is intense, going right to my head, and I’m alive. I can’t help it. I kiss back. My arms wrap around his neck and I pull myself into him, the soft explosion of heat in my chest spreading just under my skin and threatening to undo me.
For a second I’m not Cordelia. I’m not going to die. I’m just… pure energy, frenetic and frantic, somehow contained in his arms as he kisses me again, his tongue searching out mine with a slow precision that’s too much.
But it’s not enough. My fingers scratch at the back of his neck, and my foot slips on the gravel.
“Whoa,” he breathes out as I slide against him, nearly losing my footing. “You okay?”
No. Not at all. I’m… floating. At the same time as I’m weighed down by fears and mysteries and disappearances, and- Lacey’s alive, so it’s obvious he’s not a murderer, right? And he said it, she’s not looking for help from anybody.
Which means the whole town is evil, or everything’s just normal, and she’s a crazy girl, running in the woods.
That’s more plausible.
I’m not her savior. I’m not a hero. We’re here, if she needs help, and Grady keeps looking at me like I am the moon and the night sky.
He brushes the back of his hand over my cheek.
“I was gonna suggest we light a fire and warm up, but,” he smiles, stopping himself. “Lemme walk you back to your cabin.”
“I, uh, okay,” I say, and his fingers slip between mine. He tugs on my hand, and I
follow him. Where’s this going? Is my bed even made? I’m wearing really like, old underwear. I didn’t pack anything remotely appealing for um, sexy-times, when I left Twocities. I planned to come here to just disappear into the ether, and now Grady’s looking at me like he’s wanting to… to eat me, or something.
The clearing is dark, but his hand is steady, and we’re at my doorstep before I can properly form a plan to divest myself of all my clothes without him seeing the truly horrible panties I’m wearing.
They’re like, museum-worthy of the Most Unappealing Undergarment Winner, Ten Years Running display.
I put my hand on the doorknob.
“Wait,” he says, and then he’s kissing me again, pushing me up against the door, his chest nearly collapsing mine in. His hand wraps around my waist, tight and insistent. All of my muscles are trembling faintly. It’s been so long since I let myself feel anything-
“Goodnight,” he says, lifting a hand to my face, his thumb pressing against my lips, the pad of his finger warm, almost searing.
Wait, the fuck?
My eyes pop open and he steps back, biting his lower lip like he wants to come back to me, like he wants me to be kissing him again. I swallow, my throat dry.
That’s… it?
He cocks his head.
“Go inside, so I know you’re safe,” he says. The fire that was building to an anxious crescendo in my gut suddenly winks out with a pop, like the gas to the stove being turned down.
I… okay.
“Thanks,” I say, stupidly, roughly, my throat sore from emotion, and then I duck inside. Thanks? Thanks? I should have thrown my shoe at him. Who does he think he is? Winding me up like that, kissing me like that, like I’ve never really ever been kissed before, like he was stealing something from me…
I stand in the darkness of my cabin, hyperventilating softly to myself, wondering if I should just get a bucket of cold water and drench myself in it, or if I should go dump it over his head while he’s asleep in bed.
See if he likes it.
Pouring myself a cup of water at the sink, I lift it to my lips with a trembling hand, trying to sort through my feelings, when he knocks at the door.
Thank fuck.
Because I am seriously two seconds away from storming over to the main cabin and making a scene worthy of one of Beau’s righteous glowering.
“Seriously,” I snap, opening the door, water in my one hand, ready to throw.
Kyron stands there, hands shoved in his pockets.
“That fucking idiot,” he mutters, and then pushes past me. My mouth is open in surprise, and when I turn to him, he reaches over and presses two fingers under my chin. “Now the door,” he jerks his head at it. I push it, and it swings shut. He takes the glass from my hand and sets it on the counter.
“What’re you-mmmph-” He stops me with a kiss, his hands wrapping around my neck, thumbs stroking down the hollow of my throat. Everything that had started to quiet inside me roars back to life, because this… this is so good. I’m nearly on my toes, trying to chase it as he pulls away and he clears his throat. I’m feeling a little froggy myself, vision glazed over. I blink it away and glare at him. “That,” I say, “is not an answer to my question. What are you doing here?”
He smirks, hands going to his belt-buckle.
“Not obvious?” He asks, and pops the buckle. I swallow, taking a half-step back. “He storms in, looking like a man who’s absolutely wrecked himself, and I just know… I know what you need.”
“Uh,” I’m trying to find the right words to tell him to fuck off, but he’s lifting up the hem of his shirt, and his abs are truly something spectacular, chasing off any sass that I had intended to lob at him. “This isn’t, wait, that door is not revolving,” I say, pausing to catch my breath, “you don’t even like me,” I also say. His eyes darken and he pulls his shirt off. It drops to the floor and he steps closer to m.
“Now that’s not true,” he says, “I’m a little offended at that. I don’t like you? I haven’t run you off, have I?”
“You don’t know me,” I reply. He cocks an eyebrow.
“You don’t mind my beer and coffee routine,” he says, stepping closer. I hold my ground.
Because I want to hold my ground. Not… because I want to get a better look at those abs, up close and personal. Or that line of slight fuzz that crawls down his navel to where his belt-buckle is. Nope.
“That’s a fact about you, that’s… nothing to do with me.”
“I know you’re real sweet,” he says, his voice dropping impossible low, thrumming through my belly, and the heat that pools between my thighs will not be denied. It seems improbable. How did I get here? I just got done kissing Grady, and here Kyron is, standing in my cabin like he owns it (or I guess, partially owns it, I’m not sure what the agreement is between the three of them). “I know you don’t really put up with our shit, and you probably have a pretty funny monologue going on in your head twenty-four-seven.” He’s inches away from me now, and his fingers start at my wrists, dragging up my forearms. He’s leaving trails of fire on my skin, that cool instantly to ice. I know where he’s touched me for long seconds after he’s done touching me.
“You call your bike Blueberry. That’s real cute.” He bends down. “You chase after someone you don’t even know, trying to find her, trying to find out what happened to her, because you care.”
“That sounds like something a stupid person would do,” I stammer.
“I’m stupid like that,” he says, and then kisses me, his fingers wrapping around my biceps, holding them loose though. I could pull away if I want.
But that pure want in me, the one that seems to answer him just like it does Grady, even though in the city I’d be talked about all over the neighborhood despite it being a place where we all mind our own business.
“Grady wants me,” the words are barely out of my lips the second he pulls away for a breath. “I-”
“He’s an idiot, and yeah, I’m gonna go back tonight, smelling like you, and it’ll drive him to hell and distraction. And that’s half the reason you’re going to let me put you on your bed and make you scream my name.” There’s a spark in his eyes, part-madness, part-intense passion that’s zeroing in on me. “It’s no shame to want both of us. It’s no shame to have both of us.” His eyes close and he tilts his head, brushing my hair back from my cheek. He kisses there, lightly, then makes tracks to my ear, his lips rough and hot against the shell of it. “You think you’re the first woman in the world to keep more than one love in her bed? You think that makes you…”
“A slut-” I gasp out, arms moving to clench around his chest, fingers wrapping around his shoulders from behind to cling to him.
“That’s not a word I ever want to hear you say unless you’re addressing me,” he says, sounding amused. He startles a laugh out of me, and he stays there, letting me hold him close. “I’m the only slut in this room.” His tongue flicks out, a line of fire, along my neck and that’s it.
I can’t help it. I want him way too much, and it’s just fun, it’s just feeling good.
“Lemme put you to bed,” he says, and I groan.
“Terrible line,” I reply, but tug away. He grins at me, fully undoing his pants, and they fall down his legs.
“I’ll work on it for next time,” he promises. I give him a doubtful look. “You’ll want a next time. Probably tomorrow morning. Maybe one in the afternoon too.” He winks at me, reaching for my waist, his thumb sweeping over the waistband of my jeans.
Fuck.
My god-awful panties. That situation hasn’t been rectified in the last five minutes.
My mouth goes dry.
“Can you get the lights,” I ask, giving him what I hope is a coy smile. His lips curve up and he reaches out, with those long arms, flicking the switch. We’re plunged into blackness, but he finds me just fine. I shriek when he lifts me up, laughter bursting from my lungs as he carries me to the bed.
I was rig
ht about the state of my bed. The sheets are rumpled, but he doesn’t care, dumping me over, shoving his knees between mine as he covers me over.
“Please tell me that somebody in your life called you Delia,” he says as he breathes against my neck, his weight heavy on mine. My heart is thumping hard against my breastbone, and I’m letting my fingers travel up his back, feeling the acres of smooth, warm skin.
“Why?” I ask, as his mouth moves down to my collarbone. He’s stretching out the neckline of my shirt, and I don’t even care. It’s old anyway, and the fabric’s thin.
“Your name has too many syllables. Cor-dee-lee-ahhhh,” he stretches it out to ridiculousness, like an old lady at tea-time. “Deel-ya, see? Like Kyron. Nice and short. Easy to scream.” I roll my eyes and then let them flutter shut as his teeth graze over the skin of my upper chest. It’s a rough scrape, but it sends a shockwave of feeling through me, and makes me want to tighten my thighs around his hips.
“Most women don’t scream a man’s name out when she’s-”
He pauses when I stop talking, and I feel him smirking against my skin.
“When she’s coming so hard she can’t think?” He asks. “You’re right. Why would I want you calling my name out? I want you breathing so hard, so fast, you can’t even talk.” His hands are on my stomach, no washboard abs like him, but he strokes along my skin, tracing invisible whorls and patterns as he pushes my shirt up. His heat flutters away and down. He kisses me along my ribs, leaving tiny blossoms of shivery nerves in his wake.
“That’s a goal,” I murmur, not sure what to do with my hands, so I lace them through his hair, gripping softly to him. I want to feel where he goes before he gets there, so I can be prepared. Because this is just so much. I’m starting to believe what he said, that it’s no bad thing to want him and Grady, and that it’s fine, and normal, even, and what do I care about social mores when I’ve got an expiration date that’s looming over me?
Maybe I can spend the last few months getting my world blown by-
