Circle of Death

by Colleen Masters

  Only this time, I’m more than happy to let him take me.

  Chapter Eight

  Even after I rise back to the surface of consciousness, I keep my eyes blissfully closed. The baby soft bedding is wrapped around me like a cotton cloud, the entire world shaded the rosy pink of my eyelids. I feel better rested than I have for years—since before I started college, I’m sure. Every cell in my body feels rejuvenated, lusciously relaxed. I cuddle closer into the warm, solid embrace that cradles me, hoping this moment goes on forever...

  Until my mind catches up with my body and wakes up with a jolt. My eyes spring open, landing first on the heavily inked, thickly corded arms that are wrapped tightly around my almost-naked body. I wrench my neck around to find the sleeping features of Devlin resting on the pillow beside me. Alarm crashes through my barely-awake body, and I let out a shrill yelp of distress. Scrambling out of bed, I struggle to remember where it is, exactly, that I am.

  The room around me is cavernous and elegant in its modern simplicity. The walls are painted a deep, rusty red, the furniture and floor made of wide, smooth wooden planks. A sprawling king bed is positioned against the wall, fitted with the finest Egyptian cotton. And there in the middle of the king-sized nest, rousing himself from a deep sleep, is Devlin.

  “How...What the hell is going on?” I demand, my breath coming in shallow bursts. “Where am I?”

  “Take it easy, babe,” Devlin says sleepily, propping himself up on one brawny arm. “Just come back over here—”

  “I’m not coming anywhere near you until you tell me how it is I ended up in your bed,” I rush on, looking down in a panic and the white tee and panties I’ve somehow come to be wearing. The last thing I remember about last night is leaving the dance floor with this man. I have no recollection of coming back to his room, or changing out of my clothes, or consenting to having sex. “Oh my god...” I mutter, wrapping my arms tightly around my waist. “Did we...sleep together last night?”

  “You could say that,” Devlin says, sitting up with a slight smile on his face.

  “I don’t remember anything,” I say softly, fighting back terrified tears.

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” he shrugs, “You blacked out just as soon as we got off the dance floor. I figured I’d let you crash in my room. Made sure no one else tried to have his way with you. Hope you don’t mind I helped you into something a little more comfortable to sleep in. I promise I didn’t spend too much time ogling you.”

  “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I ask softly.

  Devlin’s smile fades fast. “I don’t fuck girls who are too drunk to put two words together,” he informs me. “I don’t need to stoop that low. But thanks for your vote of confidence.”

  A little wave of relief courses over me. There’s no soreness between my legs, no evidence of lovemaking. But how the hell did I get that drunk, that quickly? I only had, what, two and a half drinks? Maybe three?

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter to Devlin, “I’m just a little freaked out. I need to get my things together and get down to the dock before the boat—”

  But with perfect, terrible timing, my words are cut off by a long, mournful boat whistle. The sound our yacht made as it pulled away from the island last night. I rush over to the far wall, made entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, and tear open the curtains. I blink into the early morning sunlight, taking in the vast view of the island all around us. My heart sinks as I catch sight of the vessel that brought me to this place, gliding across the smooth surface of the ocean back toward the mainland. A gaggle of bedraggled girls stand on the deck, waving goodbye to the men whose beds they’ve just rolled out of.

  The group’s left without me.

  “Shit!” I cry, bolting across the room to the bedroom door. “Oh, shit!”

  “What’re you gonna do, swim after them?” Devlin asks, blocking my way to the door. “The ship’s already sailed, babe. Literally.”

  “I can’t just stay here,” I exclaim, trying to push his immovable mass out of the way, “What am I going to do for a whole extra day on this rock?”

  “Extra day?” Devlin asks, his eyes widening. “Are you serious? Logan, that yacht only comes around once every week.”

  “What?” I breathe, my voice hollow.

  “Looks like you’re going to be here for a while,” he says, resting his hands on my trembling shoulders. “I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

  In a surge of panic, I skirt around him, wrenching open the door and bursting out into the hallway. I have to catch that yacht. I’ll doggie paddle after them if I have to. I take off down the thickly carpeted hallway at a sprint, ignoring the fact that I have no idea where I’m going. I hear Devlin calling after me as I barrel along in my tee shirt and panties. I’m so overwhelmed by the direness of the situation that I don’t even see one of the other bedroom doors opening into the hallway. By the time I spot the slender figure stepping out into my path, I can’t halt my own momentum. I crash, full speed, into the other guest, sending us toppling to the floor in a bundle of tangled limbs.

  “What the fuck is the matter with you?” exclaims the woman I’ve collided with. Her voice is honey-sweet, with the slightest cutting edge. It sounds strangely familiar, as if I’ve heard it in a thousand recurring dreams.

  “I’m so sorry,” I gush, scrambling onto my knees and offering a hand to the woman. “Let me help you.”

  Her face is obscured by a wave of silky black hair that falls away as she reaches for my outstretched hand. As her features are finally revealed, I feel time grind to a halt around me. Sitting beside me on the plush carpet is a ghost. An apparition from my past, long since disappeared from the world as I know it.

  “Logan?” Juliet whispers, staring at me in utter disbelief.

  “Hi, Sis,” I whisper, “Fancy meeting you here...”

  “Oh good,” I hear Devlin say as he gallops up behind us. “Nobody’s concussed, here.” He looks perplexedly between the two of us as we stare raptly into each others’ eyes, our hands still clasped. “Hey...Do you two know each other or something?”

  “You could say that,” I mutter.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Juliet demands, dropping my hand as if my touch had burned her. A sudden flush rises to my cheeks as I pick myself up from the hotel carpet. Disappointment, embarrassment, and years of resentment wrestle for control of my heart.

  “What do you think I’m doing here?” I return coolly. “I’m living a little. Or are you the only Farrah sister who’s allowed to have a life of her own?”

  “Sister?” Devlin says, his brow furrowing. “Jules, is this—is she—?”

  “My little sister. That’s right,” Juliet snaps, crossing her slender arms.

  “Your younger sister, maybe,” I reply, “But I’m not exactly little anymore.”

  “That’s for damn sure,” Devlin mutters, grinning my way.

  Juliet’s eye flash as she catches the knowing look that Devlin and I share.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she says, her voice rising heatedly. “Did you two seriously spend the night together?”

  “Technically speaking,” I shrug, oddly pleased to be ruffling Juliet’s feathers.

  “Jesus Christ, Dev,” Juliet fumes, “She’s, like, ten years younger than you.”

  “Seven years, actually,” I blurt out. Devlin and Juliet stare at me quizzically. Shit. The only reason I know Devlin’s real age is because I’ve been studying every detail of his life. Am I seriously going to blow my own cover on my first day here? “Just a guess,” I add weakly.

  “Whatever,” Juliet says, rolling her eyes. “It’s still fucked up, Dev. I thought you were above wooing the schoolgirls who wander out here.”

  “I’m not a schoolgirl,” I reply, fed up with Juliet’s dismissive tone. “I don’t know why you’re so pissed off about my being here, but—”

  “It’s not just you I’m pissed about,” she cuts me off. “It’s all the little
rich girls coming out here.”

  “You just hate being reminded that you’re one of those little rich girls at heart, too,” I snap back.

  The glare she levels at me makes my blood run cold. Without another word, my sister turns on her heel and storms back into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. A long, heavy moment of silence passes between Devlin and I out in the hallway. Is he going to quiz me about my relationship with Juliet? Chastise me for upsetting her?

  “So...” he says gruffly, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets. I realize, with a jolt of longing, that he’s neglected to put a shirt on yet today. The hard panes of his chest, his innumerable abs, and those fascinating tattoos are downright impossible to look away from. “So,” I reply, swallowing a sigh a confused frustration. “What should I do now?”

  “I don’t know about you,” Devlin says, a smile twisting his lips, “But I could use some grub.” I laugh out loud at his casual suggestion. Taking me by the hand, Devlin tows me back toward his room. “Come on. Room service is on me.”

  “You don’t have to—” I begin to protest.

  “You just got stranded on a remote island and dissed big time by your own flesh and blood,” Devlin points out. “That’s got to be the shittiest morning on record. At least let me buy you some goddamn pancakes or something, all right?”

  “All right,” I allow, intrigued by if cautious of Devlin’s hospitality. “If you insist.”

  One short stack of pancakes and three strong cups of coffee later, I’m starting to feel more like a human being again. Devlin doesn’t say much as I tuck into my food, but I can feel his curious gaze on me all the while. He probably doesn’t know what to make of me. Between my brazen response to his attention last night, our lusty make out on the dance floor, my panic this morning, and the odd new tidbit about me being Juliet’s sister, I must be as much of a mystery to him as he is to me.

  And to be honest, I kind of like that.

  “Think I’ll hop in the shower and hose down,” he says, rising from the wide window seat we’ve been sharing.

  “OK,” I reply, drawing my knees into my chest, “You do that.”

  “You wanna join me or what?” he asks devilishly, tucking a long lock of black hair behind my ear.

  More than anything, I think to myself. But out loud I manage to squeak, “I’m good.”

  “Your loss,” Devlin shrugs, and strides off into the cavernous bathroom. I wait until I hear the water start to run, then dart across the room to my purse. My fingers are trembling as I root around for my cell. Who the hell can I even call for help? I can’t very well phone the police, or the coast guard, or—god forbid—my parents. That only leaves one option.

  “Logan!” Emma cries, taking my call on the first ring, “Where the hell are you? You said you’d be back—”

  “There’s been a bit of a snag in the plan, Em,” I whisper, leaning back against wall. “I seem to have...missed my ride.”

  “Good god,” Emma groans. I can practically hear her slap her palm against her forehead. “Well, when’s the next boat leaving? Or there like, a schedule, or—?”

  “Not exactly,” I mutter reluctantly. “Word is, there won’t be another yacht rolling through for another week.”

  Emma is speechless, trying to process this turn of events.

  “You’re stuck out there...for two weeks?” she asks breathlessly. “Those bitches left without you this morning?”

  “That would seem to be the case,” I reply weakly. “But don’t panic, or—”

  “What do you mean, don’t panic!” she sputters, “How are you not panicking?”

  “I have no idea,” I tell her honestly, “Probably, I’m in shock or something. Last night was...I don’t even know how to begin talking about it. This place is unreal. There are no rules, no inhibitions, no limits.”

  “Did you get a glimpse of that Vile character?” she asks, “The one FootSolider wants you to write about?”

  “Did I ever,” I laugh, glancing up at the bathroom door. “He was my...date for the evening. So to speak.”

  “What?!” she screeches. I hold the phone away from my ear as her voice rises in volume and pitch. “You spent the night with a murderer?! Did you guys—?”

  “No! No, of course not,” I hurry to assure her. “I mean, we danced for a while. And definitely kissed. And I may have slept in his bed.”

  “Logan!”

  “But we didn’t have sex or anything, I promise,” I tell her, “I’m just doing my job, trying to figure out what he’s all about. What this place is all about.”

  “And how are you planning to figure him out?” she presses, “That sounds like a euphemism if I’ve ever heard one.”

  Before I can answer, I hear the shower shut off. Devlin will be out any second.

  “I have to go,” I tell Emma, dropping my voice to a whisper. “I just want you to know I’m safe, and I’ll find a way to get home. Nothing’s going to happen to me, I’ll be just fine. Oh, and also, Juliet is here. I just ran into her, literally.”

  “You’re gonna drop that on me and hang up, aren’t you?” Emma asks.

  “Afraid so,” I reply.

  “Just tell me one thing before you go,” she insists. “This kiss with Devlin Vile. How the hell was it?”

  “It was...incredible,” I breathe. “Just incredible.”

  But before Emma can say another word, the bathroom door swings open. I promptly stuff my phone back in my purse and try to play it cool as a cloud of steam rolls out through the open door. I’m about to speak up when Devlin’s towering form emerges like a ship cutting through a thick fog. And all at once, I forget every word I’ve ever known.

  He stands in the doorway, fresh from the shower. His strong, balanced form manages to be intimidating, even in this moment of relaxation. Rivulets of water run down his thick arms, his hard chest, the muscular “V” of his waist. But for all of this, there’s one detail of Devlin’s appearance that trumps all, at this moment…

  He hasn’t got a stitch of clothing on his entire body.

  Devlin stands entirely naked before me, a faint smile spreading across his lips as he catches sight of my gobsmacked expression. I try and keep my eyes from wandering all along the delicious length of him, but I’m nowhere near strong willed enough to control my gaze. My eyes skim down his muscular chest and torso, landing squarely on that other muscle. The one I’ve been secretly wondering about since I felt it pressed against me so urgently last night on the dance floor.

  I feel my mouth fall open as I take in the sight of Devlin’s staggering cock. Never in my life have I thought that the male anatomy was particularly beautiful on its own...until now, that is. Long, thick, the perfect shapely line, it’s something to behold in its own right. And most astoundingly, it’s already hard. And getting harder with every second I keep my eyes fixed on its gorgeous length.

  “Can you blame me?” Devlin asks, his voice low and lusty. “There happens to be a sexy woman sitting in my bedroom, after all.”

  “Does this hotel have a no-towel policy, or something?” I ask softly, trying to force some levity into my voice.

  “What, I’m not allowed to walk around my own room in my natural state?” Devlin laughs, striding out into the bedroom proper.

  I scramble up from the floor as he approaches, trying to tamp down the insane rush of desire roaring through me. All I want is to run my hands all over that hard body, rake my nails across his broad back as he flattens me against the bed, driving that delicious cock of his straight through me.

  “I’m...gonna go get some air,” I say, slipping into last night’s miniskirt and turning on my heel. “I’ll be back in a second.”

  “Suit yourself. You can borrow my key,” he shrugs, stepping into a pair of black briefs. “I can wait. Not for much longer, but—”

  “Wait?” I reply, looking over my shoulder. “Wait for...what?”

  “Wait for you to let go of whatever it is that’s keeping you from
throwing yourself at me right now,” he grins. “Don’t worry. This place will loosen you up in no time. You’ll see.”

  Speechless, I tear my eyes away from his glistening chest, grab my purse, and march out the door. I can hear his satisfied chuckle as I make my way down the hallway to the bank of elevators. Despite myself, I pause just outside of Juliet’s door. My lonely sixteen-year-old self is screaming for me to knock down the door, throw my arms around her, and tell her how much I’ve missed her all these years. But jaded, twenty-something me is still smarting from her dismissal this morning. She’s the one who ditched me, leaving me without a best friend and big sister. She should be the one making an effort to patch things up, now.

  One thing’s for sure, I think to myself, making my way out of this strange hotel in the early morning light. This little jaunt couldn’t possibly get more fucked up.

  Hiking isn’t exactly an option, given that the only shoes at my disposal are three-inch heels. Barefooted, I pick my way through the thick forest, back toward the dock where I landed just last night. Bodies in all states of undress sleep on in the shadows of ancient trees as I pass. Men and women are wrapped up in each other’s slumbering arms, deep in drunken dreams. The ground is littered with cans and bottles, crushed joints and cigarette butts. The raging bonfire has burnt down to smoldering embers, and the sun is just starting to peek over the tree tops.

  I step out onto the wide boards of the dock, wrapping my arms around my waist. Gazing out across the smooth surface of the ocean, I try and quiet my racing thoughts. I’m stuck out here for a whole week, alone save for my hostile sister and irresistibly sexy pseudo-guardian. This entire island is full of men looking for something young and vulnerable to hunt down, and I might as well have a bulls-eye on my chest.

  “You can handle this,” I coach myself. “You know what you’re here to do. Just keep your wits about you, and everything is going to be just fine.”

  With a deep, steadying breath, I reach into my purse and pull out my cell once more. Better text my editor about my stranded status, too. Maybe she can dispatch someone to come rescue me. Or at least tell me what the hell I should do now.