by Jaye Cox
“Does Kalen ever go anywhere that isn’t sketchy? I mean, I wouldn’t come here alone in the day, let alone at night.”
“This place is actually pretty good,” Slate says, taking my hand. When our IDs are checked and we walk inside, my mouth falls open.
“What is this place?” I ask looking around.
“Drag Karaoke,” Kalen declares, handing me a drink.
Whoa. It’s off the charts. Everywhere I look there’s a riot of colour and feathers, stilettos and suspenders. It’s so loud. I don’t know where to look. I laugh when I see Sawyer’s dubious stare. Poor Onyx just doesn’t know where to look either.
“Sing with me, sis,” Kalen says.
“What? No. I don’t sing.”
“You do too, you sing with Slate all the time.”
“Erm, it’s not the same. That’s private.”
“You sang at the school showcase in front of hundreds of students and parents!”
“That was different,” I insist. “These are professionals.”
“The last one to put down their song choice is a rotten egg!” Kalen declares racing off to fill out the signup sheet with the MC. The busty redhead seems very taken with Kalen, who of course laps the attention up, not caring that the MC has a dick.
“You don’t get out of it you know,” Slate tells me with a smirk.
“Who said I was trying to get out of anything? I just don’t want to sing with Kalen. I can tell he’s going to be awful. Besides, what are you going to sing?”
“You’ll see.”
“Onyx? Sawyer? What are you guys singing?”
“We don’t sing,” they reply together.
“Everyone sings,” a deep masculine baritone belonging to a chunky brunette way over six feet tall in her heels tells us. “On karaoke night the entry fee is waived on the condition that everyone sings.”
“Do you think Kalen knew?” I ask.
“Of course,” Onyx groans.
“Look,” Sawyer tries to reason with the nipple-tassel-wearing brunette goliath, “can we make a generous donation to the cover charge and skip the singing? Please?”
“Hell no, pretty boy,” she drawls, using a long, manicured nail to twirl around Sawyer’s chest. “I’d give my left tit and my right testicle to see you shaking your thang up there.” Beautiful image. I snort and choke a little on my drink. Sawyer turns puce.
“Why don’t you duet?” I suggest sweetly.
“Amazing idea, doll face! You know, I was mighty jealous when you walked in with all these hotties drooling after you like foxes in a chicken pen, but if you’re willing to share, I like you after all.”
I laugh and give the brunette a ‘be my guest’ motion with my hand towards Sawyer. I had actually intended for Sawyer and Onyx to duet together, but this is way more fun. Sawyer actually looks more murderous than Onyx usually does, so I’m going to enjoy this.
“Yoo-hoo, Amelie!” Kalen starts calling over the mic, dear God. “Sis! Get your sexy ass up here! It’s time for me to serenade you.” I desperately try to hide but to my absolute horror Sawyer grabs my hand and starts tugging me towards the stage at the back of the room.
“Sawyer, stop! What are you doing?” I hiss.
“Tit for tat, Miss Rossi,” he tells me. “If I have to suffer through this, so do you.”
“Fine! But this counts as my song, okay?”
“If you say so.” He smirks, as Kalen bounds over to us and grabs my hand to pull me up on stage. The song starts up, and Kalen starts belting out ‘Valerie’ by The Zutons, only he’s butchering the Amy Winehouse/Mark Ronson version. I’m laughing too hard to really add much to the song anyway. When he gets to the chorus, he turns to me and yells the wrong words at the top of his lungs.
“Why don’t you come on over, Amelie!”
“Erm, it's Valerie you dumbass,” I hiss.
“Amelie,” he croons. “I like my version better.” He turns to the crowd of drag queens all dancing to the song and crows, “do you prefer my version?”
The crowd lets up an almighty roar, and by the next chorus Kalen has the whole bar singing to me. My face is on fire but hurts from smiling. We finish our number and vacate the stage as the nipple-tasselled diva drags a very sulky looking Sawyer past us.
The opening beat to ‘Lady Marmalade’ comes on and the remaining Knox brothers fall apart laughing. I try to hold back a smile to be kind to Sawyer – who is basically being used as a pole for Nips (as I’ve affectionately named her) to dance against – but I can’t contain it. His utter mortification has my sides hurting. Tears roll down my cheeks as the song ends with Nips planting an absolute smacker on Sawyer’s lips.
“Oh. My. God,” I gasp, as Sawyer joins us, scowling.
“Shut up,” he mutters. He doesn’t see the funny side at all, especially when Kalen holds up a small video camera and waves it in front of Sawyer’s face, taunting him. “It’s your turn,” he mutters, turning to the twins.
“Got it covered,” Slate replies. He finishes his drink – where can I get one of those? – and heads up to the stage. He looks really uncomfortable up there without any instruments. His eyes lock on mine and he begins to sing a dark gravelly version of ‘I Will Possess Your Heart’ by Death Cab for Cutie. I love the song, and he sings it right to me: “I won’t let you...let me down...so easily”. Message received loud and clear. It’s incredibly sexy, and right now I just want to find a room and finish what we started on stage earlier.
When he comes off stage, I do something entirely unlike me: I launch myself at him, wrapping my legs around his waist and devouring him with my mouth. Fuck.
“We need to go. Now,” I murmur against his lips. He chuckles but doesn’t complain.
“Consider it done,” he tells me.
Kalen complains loudly behind us as we continue to kiss. There are cheers and whoops all around us, but I couldn’t give a fuck. I need Slate. I need him to know that I don’t overlook him, I do see the potential in us.
“Onyx didn’t sing yet,” Kalen points out.
“Don’t think anyone cares,” he tells Kalen. He sounds happy to get out of it, but there’s something darker underneath too.
I tear myself away from Slate because if I don’t I’m going to be a total cliché and have sex in a limo, and as much fun as that would be, not with the other three watching. Although, my twin sandwich fantasy is quickly replaced by one involving more Knox brothers. I shake my head to clear it; there’s no way we could do that.
In the limo on the way back to Laura and Monty’s I make sure I sit across from Slate. I think the distance will be good but it doesn’t work at all, the flame ignited between us just simmers as he stares at me with heated eyes across the darkness of the limo. The others have to be able to taste the sexual tension in the air. They try to make jokes and draw us into the conversation, but I can’t concentrate on anything but Slate. I devour him with my gaze; he fucks me with his.
When we get home everyone is quiet, sneaking in to not disturb Laura and Monty.
“Your room or mine?” Slate asks when we’re finally alone.
“Yours. I don’t count that room as mine and I don’t want anything to do with it...unless, you don’t share with Onyx do you?” I ask in horror. He chuckles lightly.
“Not here, babe.”
“Then your room. Right now.” He chuckles again but I don’t have to ask twice as he pulls me upstairs and along the corridor to the furthest door on the left. His room is different shades of grey, tidy, clean and neat. I don’t know if that’s Slate’s doing, or Laura and Monty’s. I don’t care.
Slate tugs me over to the bed and suddenly I’m nervous. The heat from the bar and the limo is still there, but the urgency has gone. Now that we’re alone in his room, I don’t know how to proceed. Do I just jump him? I feel as awkward as Sawyer was the night I first went to his house. I remember how I teased him about that.
“Stop overthinking, Amelie,” Slate says softly. “There’s no expecta
tions, but I would love it if you stayed the night with me. Nothing has to happen.”
That reignites the simmering embers into a roaring blaze and I launch myself at him again.
“Naked. Now,” I demand, as I crush my lips to his. He laughs at me but doesn’t argue. We’re tearing each other’s clothes off, but once we’re both naked, Slate takes me by surprise by slowing things right down. He stares at my body – scars and all – like he’s committing every flaw to memory. Only, he doesn’t look at me like I’m flawed; he looks at me like I’m Goddamn perfect. My heart somersaults in my chest, and I swallow the lump in my throat. He caresses and kisses every inch of my skin with reverence, until he has me squirming with impatience and need.
“Slate, please,” I beg. Mercifully he doesn’t fuck around; he reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out a condom. “Slate!” I groan again. He’s taking too long.
“Shhh, patience, Amelie. I’m not about to fuck and forget you,” he promises, kissing me tenderly.
His long talented fingers slide up the inside of my leg, catching every nerve ending, and my back arches at his contact with my clit. His finger rubs over me slowly, torturing me in the most delicious way possible. Just before I succumb to a burst of pleasure, he pulls away, positioning himself on top of me. It feels too good to piss me off. His dark gold-flecked eyes roam over my face, as if he’s committing this moment to memory.
He slides inside me, and all thought is driven from my mind as I get lost in the sensations he creates with each thrust of his hips. Slow, powerful, tender. My orgasm builds, the slowness of his movements have me teetering on the edge of bliss, just waiting to be pushed over as soon as he allows it.
Holding his weight with one arm, Slate takes my breast in his hand, leaning in to suck my nipple, and I can’t hold back, I need to let it out.
“Slate.” He lifts his head and smiles, the loss of his touch unsettling me.
“Ready to let it out?” I nod.
His large hand moves to cover my mouth as his thrusts get faster, so that my muffled screams would only be heard by someone walking past, and at this moment, I don’t care.
I let it all out as waves of pleasure crash into me, like a rip-curl hitting the shore. Goose bumps cover my sweat slicked body. Slate’s release follows, and his body collapses onto mine. I wrap my arms around his body, pulling him in tight.
Slate has always surprised me, and this was no exception. We move together as well as we sing and perform. It just feels right. We fit.
Exhausted, we fall asleep in each other’s arms. Perfect.
The next morning Monty and Laura seem happy to have everyone around the breakfast table, Monty pulling out all the stops with a feast for us all. Even Sawyer seems more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a long time. Since the night we met actually. He smiles and laughs easily as Kalen regales Laura and Monty with some of the tamer exploits of last night. Laura doesn’t know that I slept in Slate’s room last night. There’s no way she would be this calm if she did.
After breakfast we’re all packed off in the limo again, told to enjoy our weekend, and reminded to all come for family dinner tomorrow. Laura says they have a surprise planned. Her words instantly fill me with dread, washing away the joy of yesterday and last night. It’s a sharp wake-up call as to why I’m really here and why I need to get out.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I can’t get out of it anymore. Sunday family dinners have been reinstated for all of us, and I’m dreading it. Twice over the weekend my mother stressed the importance of coming tonight, so I’m nervous as to why, dreading whatever her little ‘surprise’ is. I hope it isn’t anything to do with Christmas.
The incubator sends the limo to collect me, even though I have a car now. I get that it’s a power play, another way to control me. I sigh and climb into the back seat.
“Hey, Larry,” I call out to my regular driver. I may not have been over for a family dinner for a few weeks, but it’s always the same guy.
“Please take a seat, close the door and put on your seatbelt, Miss Knox,” comes the rough reply of a stranger. I ignore his instructions and bang on the glass privacy partition. It slides down and in the rearview mirror I meet the cold eyes of a man who is most certainly not Larry.
“Who are you?”
“Your driver, Miss Knox.”
“Where’s Larry?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. Please take your seat, Miss Knox, I do not wish to deliver you late.”
“Stop calling me that,” I growl.
“Just following orders, Miss Knox. The door and your seatbelt, please.”
With that, he replaces the screen and I’m left gaping furiously at my own mirrored reflection.
I do as the driver says, deciding to choose my battles carefully. It’s not his fault that my mother is a manipulative piece of shit. No. I’ll unleash my rage on her.
Because I’m angsty, the drive feels like it takes forever. As soon as we pull up, I let myself out of the car and storm towards the house. I throw open the door, not caring when it slams into the table behind, knocking off a plant pot which shatters into a thousand pieces.
“Laura!” I yell. “Laura!” Fuck that bitch. She doesn’t deserve any term of endearment. Even fucking incubator is too good a term for her. It implies heat and warmth; two things she’s never been capable off.
“What are you screaming your head off about, Amelie?” Laura appears at the dining room door looking mighty pissed, her perfect housewife mask slipping once again. “You’re late. Take your seat,” she demands.
“Fuck you!” I spit, storming into the dining room with my fists clenched.
“Ooooh, family drama! This should be good!” Kalen crows. I ignore him.
“Amelie, you will watch your language and how you speak to your mother,” Monty jumps in, getting to his feet.
“Don’t,” I warn. “You’re a decent guy, Monty, but you are not my father and you can’t tell me what to do.”
“No, but I am your headmaster—” he begins.
To my surprise, it’s Onyx that cuts him off in his angry monotone voice.
“What happened to keeping home and school separate, Dad?”
“Yeah,” Slate joins in, “seems like this is very much a family issue.”
“We are family.”
“Their family issues. Not ours.” Onyx grunts. For once I’m grateful for the exclusion.
“What’s the bitch done now, Amelie?” Kalen asks. He’s practically bouncing in his seat, loving the drama, relishing the tension. He feeds off it.
“Why do you have all of your staff insisting on calling me Miss Knox?” I seethe. I may be overreacting and making a scene over nothing, but it doesn’t feel that way to me. I know this woman, know what she’s capable of, and this stinks of an ultimate power play.
“Yeah, Laura,” Kalen chimes in, coming over to throw his arm around my neck. “My future wife is going to be Mrs Knox, not miss.”
“I’d put money on Amelie being Mrs K before Laura is,” Slate mutters to Onyx.
“Deal,” Onyx replies and they fist bump.
“Actually boys, you’re mistaken. Amelie is not, and will never be, Mrs Knox. Because Laura and I are engaged. Amelie will be your sister and we will be a proper family,” Monty announces to a shell-shocked room.
“WHAT?!” The three youngest brothers all shout at once. Only Sawyer remains silent, watching intently.
“Thank you for ruining the surprise, Amelie, we were hoping to announce it over dessert,” Laura hisses at me. She somehow manages to look at me with complete loathing, while looking at Monty like she’s the victim in all of this.
“That doesn’t explain the manipulation of trying to change my name.”
“I was trying to be nice,” she fake-sobs, even managing to squeeze a tear out. Monty immediately rushes to her side and cradles her into his arms. “I didn’t want you to feel left out. We wanted to welcome you to the family properly. I wanted to mark
this date on the calendar: November 12th, the day we officially became one big happy family.”
I smell bullshit, but I can’t call her out on it without looking like a total dick. I just ruined their engagement. I look like the bad guy here.
“Bullshit!” Kalen cries, unafraid to say what I cannot. “You never wanted to make her part of the family. You wanted to control her!”
“Kalen!” Monty chastises.
“No Dad! That...woman...is seriously fucked up!”
“Kalen enough,” Monty barks. “You will watch your tone.”
“I won’t! Does Amelie know that her car has a tracker on it?”
“That’s for protection. Besides, it comes as standard.”
“And the GPS in the key fob? Pretty sure that’s an optional extra!”
“Monty! Make him stop!” Laura yells, her face red and blotchy.
“Does being part of this family mean that all of our rooms are bugged as standard? Or just Amelie’s because she’s a girl and she needs ‘protection’? How about the monitoring of her phone calls? The weekly reports on her progress by all of her teachers?” Kalen ploughs on. The bombardment of secrets that he’s revealing has me feeling lightheaded. The room begins to spin. “What about the private security you hired to follow her around campus...and off?”
My eyes snap to Sawyer’s when Kalen drops that bombshell, and my face drains of all colour. His eyes are wide, terrified, and it tips me over the edge. The room swims in and out of focus, the noises of the room become distant, sounding like they’re underwater, but overwhelming nonetheless. Everyone seems to be screaming. Except Sawyer. He’s deathly silent as my eyes manage to focus on him. It’s the last thing I see before the world goes dark and I hit the deck.
***
When I come to, I’m no longer on the floor, but a bed. I blink slowly and the room blurs back into focus. I’m pretty sure I’m in Kalen’s room; the walls are a dark blue with photos all over of him and his brothers, the furniture all matching dark wood, the bedsheets surprisingly fresh smelling and soft.
