Wicked Little Games - Book 1 (Little Games Duet)

by Dee Palmer

  “Tia, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He cups my face in both hands, and the thump of the bags on the floor brings my focus to the two crystal blues staring right through me. I have to physically shake the sensations assaulting me.

  “Felt one, more like, and not a ghost, our ghosts.” I pull his hands away from my face. “I don’t know what you’re expecting, Cass, but I’m not the same girl I was back then. She died, and she’s never coming back.” I squeeze his hands to try and soften my stark revelation, and I am surprised when, unfazed, he squeezes me right back, adding his own blend of comfort with the hold.

  “We’ll see about that. Come on, let’s light up the fires.” He tugs me forward, and I let out a relief-filled sniff and weak laugh.

  “There’s really no one here?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at the portraits, hanging from the main gallery and lining the corridors, vacant eyes everywhere. I smile; they stopped being scary the moment I met Cass’s mother. An ancient oil painting ceased to hold any horror when faced with pure evil.

  “No, just you and me.” He flashes a nefarious grin and winks before pulling me along beside him, explaining as we delve deeper into the house. “I keep Tartarus dormant and when I come back I just open up the rooms I need. Mother never visits.” He keeps hold of my hand as he leads me down the long corridor toward the heart of the house. “A team of cleaners come in monthly for maintenance so there shouldn’t be too many cobwebs and obviously Angus the Groundkeeper is still full time.”

  He pushes the heavy oak door wide and pushes the whole bank of switches up. The lights flicker and dim before settling in to give a soft glow to the cavernous kitchen. The flagstone floor and thick walls keep the room chilled all year round, and the Aga keeps it from freezing in the winter, but it’s clearly not been turned on in months. I shiver and pull my hand from Cass’s to rub the goosebumps from my skin.

  “There should be hot water if you want to take a shower. I’ll get the fire started in here and the Aga lit, so I can fix us something to eat.” He walks directly to the open fireplace and places several of the dried logs stacked at the side in the centre of the grill. He fishes a lighter from his pocket and clicks the flame alive with one flick of his thumb. The fibres of the wood start to crackle but I know from experience he’s going to be there for a while without some decent kindling.

  “Luckily I’m not very hungry, then, because that Aga will take hours to get up to temperature,” I scoff.

  “Hmm, good point, and I’m fucking starving.” He continues to hold the flame steady, and much to my irritation, the log starts to take. It glows, and flames lick the side, grabbing hold and lighting the grin on his smug face. He turns to me, and I get a flash of the boy, the arrogant, confident, and utterly insufferable boy I adored. I suck in a sharp breath, thankful the log spits and crackles loud and timely enough to mask my…my what, I’m not sure, but whatever it is, I know he doesn’t need to see or hear it. He brushes his hands together, pleased with one item on his to-do list done. “I’ll hunt and gather something to eat that doesn’t need cooking for me now, and something I can cook for both of us for later. Why don’t you go and put the bags in my room and let me know if you think the room needs heat and I’ll bring up some logs. I didn’t intend heating the whole house, just light some fires where we’re likely to be.”

  “I’ll probably need one in the guest room,” I add as he starts to open cupboards he’s clearly never opened in search of food. My mother kept all the dry goods in the pantry and the freezers are out in the back storeroom, although it does make me smile watching him go through all the cutlery drawers and saucepan cupboards.

  “Guest room?” He uncurls his long lean body from stooping low and looks genuinely confused. It’s an unaccustomed look for him and disarmingly cute.

  “I’m not sleeping with you, Cass. This house has what, fifty bedrooms? And you honestly thought I was going to share.” I sniff, shaking my head with light humour at his presumption.

  “I wasn’t intending on sleeping,” he drawls, and despite the flutter of excitement and kick in my heartbeat, I remain incredulous, on the outside at least.

  “Jeeze, you’re unbelievable,” I huff. My hands fly to my hips in disbelief, and he flashes a new look I haven’t experienced before, sheepish. He looks so young, all I see before me is the man the boy I loved turned into.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  “I’m teasing, Tia. Really, I have no expectations. I have hopes, but I just want some time to talk and we used to do lots of talking at night, if you remember?”

  “I remember,” I whisper, and his smile widens. I can feel the threads of our long lost connection like a complex web weaving me closer to him, pulling me toward my fate, our fate. I turn before I do something I regret. Cursing myself, I walk back toward the main staircase. My head is spinning with a litany of words that, if I could be honest with myself for a moment, would not be as shocking as they feel.

  Who am I fooling exactly?

  Nothing like delaying the inevitable, Tia?

  This is Cass; it’s always been him.

  Fuck!

  I gave up on the hot water ever reaching a decent temperature to ease my aching limbs and made do with a flash cold shower, just to get the scent of Logan from my skin. It didn’t feel right, bringing him here, and right now, I just can’t think about that part of my mess. One fuck up at a time, Tia, one at a time, and speaking of…

  “Hey!” Cass peeks around the bedroom door, concern and trepidation evident on his handsome face. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting on his old bed, but it’s pitch dark outside, and where I wasn’t hungry before, now I’m famished. He kicks the door wide, and holding a tray, backs into the room. Sweet smelling tomatoes fill the room and my tummy loudly groans its approval and neglect.

  “Hopefully, that noise will accept the fact all I have is tomato soup to offer.” He smiles and takes a seat beside me, placing the tray on the bed between us.

  “What, no banana and sugar sandwiches?” I quip.

  “Oh, I’m saving those for later. I have a feeling I’m going to need my A-game.” He winks playfully, and I have this sinking feeling in the pit of my belly. I have been so sure of myself, my plan…everything, and now I’m drifting, and I hate that he just might be my anchor.

  “I don’t want to play this game, Cass.”

  “I am very aware of that, Tia.” His voice drops to a deadly serious tone, and I swear the temperature in this chilly room has just dropped to sub zero. “You want the fire on?”

  “No, I mean, it’s fine; I’m not that cold.” I shake my head, my hair is still damp, and limp tendrils whip against my cheeks with the enthusiasm of the move. His blond brow knits thicker with an intense frown, and I visibly shiver, yet I know inside, I’m just beginning to burn.

  “Here, eat this, it will warm you up until I can.” He holds the spoon to his lips, gently blowing the steam away before offering it to me. I open my mouth and watch as his throat bobs slowly with the effort to swallow. His eyes darken to impossibly deep, icy pools. My body temperature is rocketing with every spoonful of soup he feeds me. Why the hell am I letting him?

  Because you’re broken and raw, and it feels nice to have someone take care of you, idiot, and it’s not someone, it’s Cass.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened today?” He scrapes the last spoonful for me and places the bowl down.

  “I’m really not.” I drop my gaze and hear him sigh heavily. I get a twist in my chest at the snide tone of my retort. He’s being so nice, and I know that look of concern is heartfelt. I can see he cares. I just have to decide whether it’s really too late, when he’s trying so hard, and I can already feel my shaky walls begin to crumble. Tiny pockets of dust flow to the ground like an arid waterfall, taking larger pieces of my defences with it.

  I match his sigh of frustration with my own, only mine is filled with sadness. “All I can say is when I’ve done my time with you, I will be looking
for a new home.” I shuffle back and pull my legs up, my knees tucked beneath my chin, and my arms wrapped tightly around my shins.

  “Logan kicked you out? Why?” His wide eyes match the shocked inflection of his voice.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Well, if he’s smart, he’ll have followed you here and will be knocking down my door any moment.” I know he’s really trying here, because the words of comfort are at odds with the tension in his voice.

  “Unlikely.” My lips barely curve with the effort to smile. Atticus shakes his head, dismissing my assessment with a comforting hand on my knee.

  “I would be stunned if he didn’t, Tia. I saw the way he looked at you. I should know, I’ve seen that look in the mirror every damn day.” I have to drop my gaze when I see the honesty in his eyes. I can feel the prickle of tears, and screwing my eyes shut, I have to physically shake them away. I let out a slow breath once the threat has passed and look up.

  “He’s agoraphobic Cass, he hasn’t stepped out side his house for ten years. The last time was for his parents funeral.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t think it’s a why kind of deal. He won’t talk about it. He just said the next morning he couldn’t get anywhere near the door. He tried and it just got worse until he stopped trying. But even if he wasn’t, he won’t be coming after me.” I’m not given to dramatics, never was, and this time, Cass gives an acknowledging nod, holding my gaze to make sure. I don’t waiver. I know Logan. He won’t forgive me, and I don’t blame him. The silence doesn’t hang for long when Cass breaks it.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not,” I scoff, and he has the decency to flash an apologetic smile.

  “True, but I am sorry you’re hurting.”

  “I’ve had worse,” I fire back, and he winces. His next apology is much more sincere.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” I believe him. I have for a little while, even if it changes very little, it’s still good to know. He pulls one of my hands free and entwines our fingers, and I let him.

  “How did you meet him, if he’s agoraphobic I mean?”

  “I broke into his house and slept in his basement until he found me.”

  “What?” The shock on his face is almost comical.

  “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” I can’t hide the irritation in my voice. It’s not like I had several family homes around the globe I could pick and choose from.

  “You could’ve—” He starts to speak, but I cut him down, biting out my interruption.

  “What, Cass? What could I have done? Called you? Written one more of the hundreds of unanswered letters? Gone back to the Lodge house? I had no options, none. I was living on the street, and Logan took me in. He saved me, and I betrayed him.” I suck back the rising sob and halt it before it takes hold.

  “I never got any letters Tia.” He states this as a matter of fact, and I believe this one too.

  “I’m not surprised.” I sniff and let out a hollow, humourless laugh. “It really doesn’t matter does it? Your mother had her reasons for what she did, and you believed them.”

  “It might’ve made a big fucking difference.” The muscle in his jaw bounces with a thinly veiled fury his eyes fail to hide.

  “Did you know I was in jail?” I counter, and he closes his eyes with the pain of that single question.

  “Yes.” He nods but keeps his eyes closed.

  “Then it doesn’t make a fucking difference,” I say, although the fire has left my belly. I’m so exhausted. I don’t want this fight anymore.

  “No, I guess it doesn’t,” he admits softly and looks into my eyes once more. The look alone quells what is left of the fiery rage inside me. I can’t change the past and neither can he. “How did you betray Logan?”

  I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter, all that matters is he will never see me again, and I have to live with that, along with all the other shitty paths my life has taken. I have to walk them alone, and I’m so sick of being knee deep in shit.” My voice pitches high and a little hysterical.

  “Hey, hey. It’s all right; it will all be okay. I promise.” His other hand wraps around the back of my neck, and he holds me firm, tethering me to him when our eyes connect. I feel calm and unsettled at the same time.

  “Do me one favour, would you?”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t fucking make promises you can’t keep.” He pulls his hands away when my caustic tone does the trick.

  “What do you know about him?” He straightens his back to his full height, and I can see the torment play out across his features. There is tension in his jaw, narrowed eyes, and his knuckles are white from the iron-fisted grip he’s got going on, but I’m confused why.

  “Who? Logan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Enough.” I don’t like the challenge in his tone. I hope my curt replies will end this topic of conversation. Logan is not part of this equation, and I want to keep it that way.

  “Really? I know you were desperate, Tia, I just didn’t think that would mean you’d shack up with a murderer.” His flippant remark is like a slap across my face; I feel the pain and shock tear through me.

  What the hell?

  “What are you talking about? He’s not a—” I falter as my mind races to a very recent conversation, and Ghost’s words ring in my head and make my stomach drop. That can’t be true; she wouldn’t send me there if he was a murderer. Besides I checked him out. I shake my head at my own naïveté, I checked out one of the best hackers in the country, yeah, right.

  “His parents died in suspicious circumstances, Tia. They were both young and healthy, and they both had heart attacks on the same night. His sister’s body was never found, and he spent six months in a mental hospital before being released. And there are no records of any of this.” He reaches for my hand, but I pull right out of his reach, pressing myself against the headboard. Not because I don’t want him to touch me, but because I do. He’s like this familiar comforting blanket that I crave with my soul, to wrap around my breaking body and take this pain away.

  “How did you find this out then?” My words are softly spoken, and even I can hear the break in my voice.

  “I have sources, Tia, and when someone is important, I find out the truth,” he adds, and I blurt out a bitter, hollow laugh filled with vitriol. It’s enough to break the spell and help me see straight. It’s the first time in this whole damn evening, but better late than too late.

  “Oh, that’s fucking rich! You knew the truth, and yet you left me to rot in jail!”

  “I know.”

  “‘You know? That’s all I get?” I’m incredulous at his stony-faced delivery.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” he adds, but the impassive tone is like lighting a powder keg. I explode.

  “How? How the fuck do you give me back three years of my life? How do you give me back the girl that died in jail? How do you do that, Cass?”

  He swipes the tray to the floor, sending the dishes flying and breaking on impact with a loud crescendo. He grabs my shoulders and pulls my body to his, crashing his lips to mine with painful urgency. Salty tears flow freely down my face, pooling in the creases where our lips are joined. I push against a wall of muscle and then pull back. We break apart, and I suck in a large gulp of air, gather my one thought, and draw my hand back, clench my fist, and punch him square on his chiselled jaw. My knuckles crunch and pain shoots up the bones in my arm. His head snaps to the right. He massages the side of his face, but the grin that creeps across his face makes me think he’s more impressed than hurt.

  “Kissing me changes nothing, Cass, and unless you’ve got a magic dick, neither will having sex, so fuck off and leave me alone.”

  I stand and run for the door, and my hand shakes as I try to grasp the iron handle. The door flies open with the strength of my pull, and I hit the corridor with a flat out sprint. The need to get free is instinctual. I keep going, t
urning corners, running, breathless and frantic to get away, to get some distance, and to find a safe sanctuary in this mansion.

  I reach the farthest part of the house and the secret staircase. I’m not surprised I’m here. It’s like I was on autopilot. It’s where I always went when I needed to get away and my first port of call when I needed to feel safe. It was our place to hide. I climb the narrow stairs, squeezing at the turns because I’m so much bigger now. The door is stiff and creaks when I slowly push it open.

  Oh, shit, I mutter out loud, when I realise exactly how much trouble I’m really in.

  A thousand candles flicker, and shadows dance across the open space bouncing off the fort of pillows stacked in the centre of the room.

  It’s magical. It’s perfect, and I repeat to myself, Oh, shit. Only it’s not to myself.

  Strong hands hold my shoulders from behind, and he presses his body firmly to mine. I melt at his touch as the raw heat from his body puts a million candles to shame.

  He turns me slowly in his arms. I’m surprised my feet move at all. My head is a mess. My emotions are all over the damn place. All I can hear is blood rushing so loudly in my ears, it feels like I’m wearing noise-muffling headphones. My heart is pounding like a rapid-fire machine gun on steroids, and I don’t have a drop of moisture in my mouth. Any spare liquid is pooling right between my legs.

  “I love you, Tia. I always have, and I always will.” His crystal blue eyes reflect a hundred flames, swaying with the faintest swirl of air.

  He’s so close, I feel him everywhere; tiny hairs all over my body stand to attention, and the manly smell filling my nostrils is intoxicating. I sway with the heady scent. I’m utterly mesmerised by the intensity of the look he is levelling at me. I don’t know what reserves I’m running on right now, but as lines of defence go, this feels very much like ‘game over’.

  “I fucked up so badly, Tia, I know I did, and if you’ll give me a chance, I will make it right.” I can hear the heartbreak and desperation in his voice.

  “Cass…” I try to respond, but I know from the heavy sigh that escapes, I am struggling to recall anything other than how much I loved this man, how much I love him still.