His hand reaches closer, attempting to touch me or get me up. I scuttle backwards, retreating further under the curtains I’m near. I don’t want to move, even into him. I want to stay and think, lay in my misery and melancholy. “There were veins in faces, Gray. Monsters. He held me, wouldn’t let me go,” I mumble.
A shiver rides over my exposed skin as I hear him sigh. It’s only then that I realise I’m in my underwear, lace panties and bra on show. Not that it matters, he’s seen me be fucked by a man I didn’t know. My eyes widen – that really happened.
My finger stops its tap, as the memory beds in and makes me smile wider and laugh a little. Drugs. I remember the pills now. Blue, white, orange. I wonder what that man’s name was. He was tall. Blonde ruffled hair, as if it styling had been abandoned. Hard muscles. Big. Tattoos.
My thighs scrunch together, memories of being taken flooding me.
“Malachi isn’t a monster, Hannah. Mostly,” Gray says, sitting on the floor near me. That was Malachi? A woman said that earlier, said he owned the place. Gray leans his back on the wall, legs long in front of me. “You tripped out. That’s all.”
That’s all.
I lift my body slightly, getting closer to him with the move, as if drawn there. He’s looking at me, his forearms perched on his knees and legs bent. No jacket or tie now. Just an open collar on a white shirt. His throat bobs, as if he’s swallowing something down rather than saying it.
“What next?” I ask.
“What do you mean what next?”
My finger taps my head, body inching closer to him. “I don’t want this in here, Gray. You said you’d distract me. There’s a dead husband in here now. He’s messing with me and making me remember things. Terrible, tragic things.”
“I didn’t say I’d distract you Hannah. I said this place beneath us would. And I think you’ve had enough.”
“Beneath?”
He nods and moves away from me, his body rising from the floor to create distance. I watch him pace over to the bed, his fingers dragging along the length of the crumpled sheets. His hands go to his pockets as he stares at them, a shake to his head, and then he turns to look at me again.
“Get up. I’ll take you home.” What?
No.
I scramble on the floor, pulling myself up until I’m standing in the window. Home means memories. I don’t want them. I want here. With him and whatever this is. Even veins in faces are better than home. My hands grab at the curtains, yanking them open with a flourish. Ice and storm laden skies look back at me, cold and desolate. That’s what I am now. Uncaring. I’ll stay here, rest in its distraction until I’m ready to deal with the world I left behind. “I’m not going home,” I mutter, inching myself to the glass. My face rests on it, eyes drinking in the landscape, as my hands palm the cold. “Take me to Malachi. I’ll ask if I can stay. Pay for it if I have to.”
There’s nothing but a snort behind me, as if I’ve said something funny. I haven’t. This place is real to me now. I don’t care for monsters with veins in their faces anymore. I’d rather that than the thought of an empty apartment and gravestones. Let alone the memory of a disloyal husband. “I’m not finished with my distraction, Gray. I want more.”
“Hannah, you can’t stay here without me. There are rules that you won’t-“
My body whips round, eyes and mouth cutting his words dead. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. No man does. Fuck you, Mr Rothburg.”
He stands there, perfectly still regardless of my nasty words, with only the slightest raise to his brow. Perhaps he’s annoyed about them, or perhaps not. I don’t care. I am Hannah now. Not Mrs Tanner who does as she’s told. I will not be ordered, coerced, or tormented with memories I don’t want. I will stay. On my own if I have to.
I look at the door, not caring for his opinion of anything, and then head for it. It’s open and I’m out into what seems to be a grand hallway, as much lavish wealth on show as there was in the bedroom. My bare feet move swiftly, hurrying me along the hall until I come to a wide staircase in the middle of a circular room. I hover, peering around, and then keep moving down towards wherever Malachi might be.
Hard wood floors feel cold under my feet when I reach the bottom of the stairs, no sound in the air to lead me in any direction. I keep walking, head ducking into more rooms so I can find whoever Malachi is. I knock my head with my hand, trying to remember his face clearly. I can’t, but who cares. It isn’t until I turn into another room and find a man fully kitted out in black sprawled out on a couch that I fully remember him. He turns his head to look at me lazily, a glass of something in his hand. It dangles in his grip, as if he’s not bothered about it in the slightest.
I look him over, taking in his size, his looks. Handsome. Of course, he would be. No one isn’t here. Maybe that’s the money they all have.
“Mrs Tanner,” he drawls. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. I want to stay.”
He smirks and looks up at the ceiling, the glass coming to his mouth. The liquid’s drained before he raises his body upright, long, heavy booted legs falling to the floor. “Why?”
“What?”
“Why do you want to stay? I’ve already told you, you can’t have him. Not really.”
“Have who?”
“Gray Rothburg.”
“Oh, I don’t care about that. He wants to take me home. I’m not going.”
He stands and refills his drink, another glass being offered to me at the same time. I nod and move closer, quiet feet taking in the luxury around me as I walk. Plush velvets line the furniture, ample cushions making this room seem even more decadent than the bedroom I was in. I look up and around. Walls decorated with old paintings, more gilt frames and old wealth scattered around. It’s huge. All of it. Luxury on top of luxury, aged canvases and furniture.
“Would you like some clothes for the game, Mrs Tanner?” he says, passing me a drink. Not really. What do they matter here? And what game? I walk again, dismissing the question, and start touching things and fondling objects that seem hundreds of years old. Aged wood creaks beneath my feet. Heavy, silk curtains frayed at the edges. “And when does your husband’s insurance annuity pay out?”
“You had veins in your face.” He did. They were live and filled with blood, black blood. Black eyes too. I glance back at him, taking in the smooth lines of his darkly tanned face, the eyes that follow me wherever I go, and then go back to fingering a porcelain vase. Eyes are still the same. No veins, though. “They were prominent. Like they were above your skin. Why did you have those?”
No answer. No discussion about veins in faces. He just gazes at me, a slight smirk on his lips as if I’m amusing him. Maybe I am. I don’t care about that either.
“In about a week or so,” Gray’s voice says. I swing to look back at him, staring as he crosses the rugs to get to Malachi. What’s in about a week or so? He looks briefly back at me, more dark eyes covered with a frown. “I’ll cover her monetary costs until then if she wants to stay.”
They seem to look at each other for an eternity, no words spoken. Malachi ends up tipping his next drink down, a small chuckle coming out the moment he’s done it. I don’t know what about, but the time gives me a chance to look at them while they think. Attractive, both of them. In different ways. One dark and unreadable, his muted, heavy features giving nothing away but some sense of malice beneath the veneer. The other more open with his attitude given his home around him, I would assume. Both arrogantly aware of their looks, though. Both probably conceited because of it.
I laugh quietly at that, unsure why I am doing given my near naked state in this extraordinary place, and sit on a large chair. I’m not going anywhere. I’m bedding in here, relaxing in the peculiarity and engaging in a new me.
Living a new life.
My feet curl up under me, shoulders rubbing against the soft burgundy velvet. I’ll drink this drink, wallow in my own mood, and wait. Not moving. Not leaving at all.
“Alri
ght, Mrs Tanner,” Malachi eventually says.
“Hannah. No Mrs Tanner. Not anymore.”
He nods and comes over to me, eyes looking over my body again. “Gray’s explained the rules?” My gaze flits back to Gray. No, no rules have been mentioned.
“Malachi gets what Malachi wants. I was trying to explain,” he says, brusquely. The drink hovers at my lips, unsure what that means. “You’ll pay in more ways than one to be here, Hannah. Especially if he lets you stay in the house with him. If you must, choose a room downstairs.”
My gaze comes back to the man in front of me, suddenly understanding the undertone. He towers over me, sleeves rolled up on darkly tanned forearms. They’re covered in an array of leather bracelets. Some black. Some red. I end up looking at his fingers, wondering what they’ll do to me, what they’ll ask of me, and then gaze at his face again. I sip the drink, not caring for the thought. More of those pills and I’ll be fine. I’ll just linger in it all, enjoy whatever eccentricity comes with these rules that I don’t know anything about yet. Anything, as long as I don’t have to go back.
“No room downstairs,” Malachi says. “If you stay, you stay up here. With me.”
A smile passes over me, my insides remembering that man who fucked me and said thank you for the privilege. I wasn’t with him, though. Not all the time, anyway. I can remember it clearly now. Gray. That’s who I was with, who I yearned for. My gaze drifts over to him. Shoes. Thighs. Waist. I hover at the belt, wondering what’s behind the trousers it’s holding up, and then keep going until I reach his face. That feeling’s still there. The one that somehow makes me want to crawl to him, hold him, be held by him.
“Fine, Malachi. As long as I can stay,” I murmur. Maybe Gray will stay too. Maybe he’ll look after me again, give me more of that sensation. We could fuck then. Get involved in something he seems to deny for reasons unknown.
“Whimsical,” Malachi eventually says, moving away from me towards Gray. “Or irrational.”
The scowl on Gray’s face tells me he’s not happy about something. I don’t care about that. I’m here. And it’s exactly where I’m staying until I’m ready to leave.
Chapter 20
Gray
T he damned face smirking at me, as he fills another drink, is almost enough for me to knock it off his head. I shake my own and start backing out of the room, eyes snatching a last glance at her on the chair. She hasn’t got any damn idea what she’s letting herself in for now, but that isn’t my problem anymore. I waited for a while in the room, gave them time to discuss matters between themselves. Perhaps I hoped she would make the correct choice when she saw him again, become too scared of him to stay and opt for leaving with me instead of her rash impulses.
That clearly isn’t happening.
She stares as I retreat, hollow features still seeming motionless and inert, and gives me nothing other than that in return. The muscles in my legs pull to a halt, the same desire raging through me as always around her. It’s not reasonable, or acceptable, and I have nothing to argue with now. No claim to stake. Still, I gaze, taking in the lines of her features, for some reason connected to them. What is that? Hope maybe.
A yearning for something I can’t have.
Another look at Malachi and I turn to leave, forcing myself across the room. She’s made her choice, and it’s something I won’t fall into with her. Watching her with others I could have done, but the friendship with Malachi and I, and the incessant decadence he could lead me into, aren’t things I’m willing to play games with. I can’t. Won’t. My obligations are elsewhere. They always were other than these few days I was willing to give her. She can have her fun without me now. Live it for as long as she can take his kind of sport.
I’m about to head through the door when her laughing catches me off guard. I frown and look back at her, watching as she makes her way to me. Slow strides, her shoulders moving with a relaxed grace. My dick hardens at the sight of it, eyes lingering on her hand as runs it over her stomach.
“I thought you liked to watch,” she murmurs, bringing the drink to her lips. “It won’t be the same if you’re not watching me. I never saw your eyes. Only the screen between us.” She looks at me over the top of the glass, lips nibbling at it, tempting me, and then Malachi comes along to join her. “You could just watch the once. Let me see your eyes while he fucks me, Gray. I thought you were my hero. Heroes don’t abandon their damsel.”
Fucking is the last of her worries with Malachi.
He chuckles at her attitude and puts his hand on her shoulder, drawing her back to him. The distance he’s creating isn’t for her benefit, it’s for mine. No connection. Nothing other than watching, no matter how seductive she might be. But his mouth goes to her skin, teeth biting softly into the side of her neck to wind me up.
I stall, wondering what he’s playing at. We’ve already discussed his thoughts. I’m not doing his idea of making this easier on me, no matter how appealing the thought of that kind of stupidity. And staying without that thought will push me passed boundaries I cannot cross.
Still, the moment’s on me again now, the thought riding my skin again with more realism involved. I watch, as he slips the bra strap off her shoulder, and scowl at the situation he’s putting us in. “Stop it, Malachi.”
“No.”
His hand moves fast, grabbing her chin and wrenching her head sideways. She stumbles in his hold, eyes wide and both sets of her fingers gripping into his forearm to keep her on her feet. I stand motionless, refusing to be baited into showing care. I watch, though. I watch like I’ve never watched before – contrived by my own reaction to her.
She groans and goes limp in his grasp. No fight. No rejection of his handling. I’m not surprised. She handled Dillon well, went numb to his hold just like she will be doing now by looking up at me. She’s staring, bedding herself into me regardless of the fact the drugs will now be out of her, but then she’s slung sideways away from him with more force than necessary.
Every muscle I’ve got tenses, as I watch her fall to the floor and sprawl across it. I’m not rescuing her from this, though. If I do I’ll be dragged down a road I can’t handle and can’t honour either. The simple fact is - this is what she’s asked for.
“You’re being a fool, Gray,” Malachi’s voice says. I don’t look at him or react to the taunt. He’s not getting me to do what he wants. I’m not a puppet he can play with, nor am I willing to travel this tragedy he’s trying to force.
“I’m leaving, Mrs Tanner. You’re still welcome to come back with me.”
She doesn’t move, but for a small tilt of her head in my direction. Such pretty eyes. Dead. Lifeless. I stare, transfixed on her form, as she glares at me. I’ve never wanted a woman away from Malachi’s fun before. Never cared enough to even think it was required, but as she starts crawling backwards to Malachi’s feet, my muscles prime for an argument.
One hand goes to his leg, and she slowly pulls herself up until she’s on her knees. A slap rings off the side of her face before she’s got herself fully balanced, the force and shock of it sending her straight back to the floor again.
“Leave her alone.”
“No. You know how to stop this. I’ll listen if you ask.”
“You know I won’t.”
He grabs hold of her hair and drags her away from me, no care for her thrashing legs and arms, and tosses her towards a wall. Her head rebounds off it, a shriek coming out of her mouth because of the impact.
“I’m not doing this, Malachi.”
He laughs. He laughs loudly and picks her hair up again, baiting me with the next hit he’ll give her. I step backwards, knowing there’s only two ways to stop this. One is leaving, the other engaging. I’m not doing the second option.
“Gray,” croaks out of her.
I ignore it and step backwards again. She’s made her choice. I’m not it, couldn’t be even if she did decide to leave with me. Maybe she’ll learn something here with Malachi, evolve pas
t the maudlin place she’s in. My body turns, no last glance at her this time, and I walk out of the room. The scream that comes the moment my feet hit the hall sounds terrified. Not my problem. I stride on, listening to it ringing around the corridors, and try to stop the need to go back to her. No claim to stake. No life to offer. She’s on her own, having made her own decisions.
“Does it hurt?” Faith’s calm voice says from somewhere.
I half halt, looking for her, and then move forward again. I’m not being baited by her either. That’s all both of them want. They want to play with the only one that won’t be played with, fuck up another head until it doesn’t know right from wrong. She’s in front of me before I reach the main doors, still swinging her tail in her hand. “Falling for someone when you can’t have them must hurt.”
“Go away, Faith. Play with the children if you must.”
“But you’re more fun,” she says, closing the space down between us. “You must miss it. Touch. Taste.” Her gaze wanders down my chest, eyes eventually coming to a stop by my dick. “Fucking. It’s lovely. Do you remember it? You could fuck me, but you don’t want me, do you?”
No.
I go to move, but she blocks me again and sways to her own imaginary music. “She’ll be breakable. And you know what Mal’s like where you’re concerned. Where’s your conscience, Gray? You brought her here. And now you’re abandoning her?”
She giggles and skips around me, swinging her tail so it hits me on the back, the thigh. Another scream rings out from the main lounge, this time filled with more fear than last time. “Why don’t you want to play with her? He’ll hurt her if you don’t appease him.” She pouts and pretends to cry. “Boohoo. Poor little, pretty thing.”
More tension fills me at the sounds coming from Hannah, more heat travelling through muscles to turn around and accept my own desires. My hand ends up shoving Faith to the side, head shaking as I keep moving. I’m not doing it. Any of it. Not with her. “You just need to touch her once. Put your fingers in her. Just show Mal that he’s won and then he’ll give up trying to taunt you into it. It’s only a game, Gray. Life’s such a lovely game,” she calls.
A Distraction of Lies Page 14
