by Kacey Mark
A cold net of awareness collapsed over Adrian. Good hell. The Oracle’s timing couldn’t have been better, and judging by the Oracle’s smarmy expression, he’d planned it like that. Adrian wasn’t here for some sordid task. He had been summoned…for entertainment?
He narrowed his vision to the Oracle’s slender nose. It didn’t really fit his face. Pointy, not bloody enough. It could stand some rearranging. As far as mortality went, the common cockroach didn’t have nothin’ on these guys. To die, Oracles must suffer a violent death. And for that job, Adrian just might start polishing his resume.
He stepped forward, ready to hurdle the counter.
The Oracle raised both hands. “Okay, okay. I do want one thing.”
“Get to it then,” Adrian snapped.
The Oracle’s thick tongue darted out, and then disappeared again. He glanced to the Eunuch whose thin frame skulked out from the cyan and fuchsia beaded curtain that guarded the back room.
The Eunuch moved forward with an outstretched hand, his smile strained and bright. Several dollars were clamped between his bony fingers.
Adrian frowned. “What’s this?” But the guy didn’t speak, not in front of the deity. A lesson Adrian still hadn’t mastered. Damn it.
Adrian’s attention rounded back to the Oracle as he drum-soloed along with the pulsing overhead music. His eyes squeezed shut in rapture, a pink, jelly dildo in one fist and a blue one in the other. They flopped back and forth, smacking the laptop’s cover then the Oracle’s wrist, and back again. Sure hope those don’t find their way into some lady’s purse later. Adrian swallowed back the gag that threatened to mar his hopefully impassive features.
“Maybe I should come back. When you’re medicated.”
“Already told you, Adrian Sands, I don’t need medication to function.” He wanded one dildo along the chair-puddled length of his body. “This is one-hundred percent pure awesomeness. Connecting to my enlightened state—”
“—is like bumper bowling with my grandma. Get on with it.”
The Oracle sniffed. “You misunderstand my perception of things.” His eyes half closed, and he settled his hands. “I take in information as I see fit. When a rare specimen such as you graces my presence, I have a natural curiosity. Distractions ensue…”
“Would you like me to knock your ass back on course?”
The Oracle’s lips curved to a sly grin. “Oh, now you’re just teasing me.” The Oracle’s attention traveled Adrian’s full length. Hopefully he hadn’t missed the clenched fists, or the boot that was just begging to drop kick his face.
“If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you prick us—”
“You are a prick,” Adrian muttered. Oh, the games this guy played could make even the strongest of men vomit. With the Oracle’s reputation as an imbiber of all things lurid, Adrian knew better than to threaten him. It only made the guy want to play harder. Secretly, the Oracle seemed to enjoy Adrian’s sour moods more than his complacent ones.
The Oracle chuckled. His shoulders twitched in a sort of victorious wiggle. “Oh. Yes. I remember why I called you here.” He set his rubbery drumsticks aside and motioned the Eunuch toward Adrian. The Oracle’s messenger pushed the bills into Adrian’s hand.
“You have a new toy,” the Oracle declared.
Adrian nodded to the beaded curtain at the back of the store. “I think you own every toy in the metropolitan area.”
“No—your toy. Your little doll. You’ve got one. In fact, I believe you’ve been hiding her for some time.”
His heart thumped at the walls of his chest. In Adrian’s early years of teenage promiscuity, he had mastered the shielding powder—and his ability to bring Shauna in contact with it on the thirteenth day of every month. It kept her well hidden from the Oracle. After college, he’d eradicated Shauna from his life. It wasn’t long after that, he was using the powder to make himself disappear. The thought of hiding her hadn’t even crossed his mind until she tore through that bag and by then, it was too late.
“What light through your window breaks, my boy?” the Oracle prompted again.
Adrian tried to sound impassive. “You’ve never been interested in any of my relationships before.”
“But this one’s special, isn’t she?”
“Not to mention, you’re gay.”
The Oracle sat back. “It’s true. I prefer the strength and stamina of a more virile crowd. But your toy isn’t for me. Not really. You see, Nightingale’s is getting a little stale these days. The same followers every night leave nothing to look forward to. So I’m calling in some rather unusual recruits. Stirring things up a little.”
“No.” Adrian leveled his glare. There would be no bargaining on this one. O’Nightingale’s, the dirtiest underground nightclub in all of Utah, would burn to the ground the moment Shauna stepped inside—with her in it.
Didn’t the Oracle know that?
“What are you afraid of?” the Oracle demanded.
Adrian didn’t respond. The complete demolition of his future…or girlfriend flambé. It was a stupid question from either angle.
Wait. Now she’s the girlfriend? Adrian grimaced and then blanked his features again before the Oracle detected it.
“You’ve passed the age of your ancestors. You’ve made it this far without provoking your curse.”
“Because I was careful.”
“’Cause I helped you.”
Adrian folded his arms over his chest. “I could argue that one all day.”
The Oracle arched a sandy brow in challenge. “Would you like to hear what’s ahead of you, Adrian? Would you like to hear the tragedy that befalls your one true love, should you fuck this up? How she dies? How lost you feel?
“How would you like to know every moment of every day how you will lose her and not be able to do a damn thing about it? To act against prophecy will seal her fate.”
Adrian tossed the wrinkled bills at the counter. “She’s not for sale.”
The Oracle’s voice lightened. His face changed to insidious delight. He stretched his chubby arms out wide. “Of course she’s not. That money’s not for her. It’s for you. I already knew how you’d react.”
“Go buy yourself something nice to wear tonight. And let me be the first to welcome you back to O’Nightingale’s.” The Oracle angled his head to Adrian’s fist, where syrupy liquid oozed between his clenched fingers. “Oh, and uh, keep the lube. You’re going to need it.”
Chapter Five
Shauna swallowed the gasp of fear that seized her throat.
Jutting three feet from the treacherous threat of a clean-swept gutter, and well into the natural flow of traffic, sat Richard’s Chinese-red Bentley convertible. Even under the scant light post it gleamed, the lower fender curved in a smile of privilege and self-assurance. As if to say, “Go ahead. Try to outrun me.”
Shauna’s gaze fled to the clutter-stacked bunker of her garage then to the remote clipped on her sun visor. What she wouldn’t give for a working garage door about now. She’d lower it behind her before he could leave his car and take one step in her direction. Giving her a moment to think.
He always kept her on a stopwatch. With her shift having ended several hours ago, that left lots of explaining to do.
Richard’s catapult of accusations came fully loaded and ever ready. The moment he spotted her—oh God, and the outfit—no doubt he’d open fire. And he wouldn’t stop until he brought tears.
She needed an excuse—a plan—and something good this time. She came up with a dozen of them when she got dressed this evening, but all the good ideas fled her mind about as quickly as Adrian and his turbo-boosted better things to do.
Shauna careened into the driveway, as her cashmere sweater grew itchy and constrictive. The tiny, woven threads seemed to sprout serrated insect legs that chased up her spine. Caught. And she knew it.
She couldn’t muster the guts to look at Richard and his ego-stroker-on-wheels. Not yet.
She steere
d straight into the garage. Eyes stuck on the dingy tennis ball that hung in wait to tap her windshield and declare her home free. Shauna pushed out a bitter huff. No freedom for her. Not anymore.
Come on, think.
A sick coworker could explain the late hour, maybe she had to cover their shift—in disguise, so her friend wouldn’t get fired.
Or she could be flaunting the outfit just for Richard. Maybe she’d planned this. She’d been expecting him?
Yeah, like he’d believe that. She let her forehead thunk against the steering wheel. Why did encouraging her own fiancé’s sexual intrigue feel like the very last thing she wanted?
Because then she’d have to spend the entire evening warding him off. That’s why.
She clicked the remote button. It hadn’t worked in months, but once. Please, just one more time. Shauna jammed the button down, harder this time. The tiny, green light on the remote flickered, but the door didn’t budge from its propped state.
Come on!
She risked a quick glance to Richard’s car.
Wait a sec. The car wasn’t idling. The driver’s seat looked vacant.
She craned her neck to the view behind her. Her gaze flew to the dark carport, the prickly bushes that lined the drive, even the slender pole that caddied half-a-dozen birdfeeders—anywhere but inside. Please don’t be inside.
She jammed on the emergency brake and shoved open the door. If her roommate, Kimmy, got a hold of him, no telling what kind of damage she’d do.
Shauna launched herself from the driver’s seat and bypassed the attached door to the garage. She started for the front entrance. Rounded the four-foot, brick alcove that blocked her view of the front door. Her heels skittered on cement as she made an abrupt stop.
Richard, in his crisp, black tuxedo, stood hunched over the doorbell—too busy woodpeckering the button to notice her clipped approach.
The faint, honey-rasp of Kimmy’s voice came from the other side. “That’s it. I warned you—”
Richard leaned toward the door’s crevice. “And I’m warning you, Kim. This is my house, not yours.”
He paused for a moment as if waiting for Kimmy’s retort. But nothing came. Odd. Not really her style. The roommate never backed down from a verbal assault. And if the fight happened to cross into her lair? Shauna would place her money on Kimmy any day.
Richard pounded the rough, wooden surface with his fist. “Open this door!”
Ah, the moment Shauna had been waiting for—or dreading, really. A year ago, their house had fallen into bankruptcy, and Richard offered to buy it. Not sure why he considered it his so-called perfect picture of domestic life, but finding a buyer had saved her bacon.
So she went with it.
He promised it wouldn’t get creepy.
Maybe Richard hadn’t noticed, but he’d just pole vaulted over the creep boundary like a champ. She’d picked a winner all right. Now to slip that gold metal over his head. And hang him with it.
Shauna folded her arms. “What are you doing?”
Richard pivoted slowly. His frown of determination intensified, and his lowered brows knitted with outrage.
The sudden sputter and hiss that came from behind Shauna overpowered Richard’s sharp reply. She spun as the first round of sprinklers hissed to life, and erupted into a cheerful rotation of water spurts. Right into the open bay of Richard’s car.
Richard’s face paled. His hands rested in a ghost of a touch on her arms as he sidestepped her and raced to his car. “Damn it. I just had this washed.” He jumped into the driver’s seat and leaned to one side with his shoulders drawn up and his eyes squinted, as if to shield from the pelting water. The engine roared and Richard U-turned on spinning tires.
Shauna raced back for the garage, to where the sprinkler’s time clock sat. She rounded the corner in time to catch Kimmy’s self-righteous grin as she slapped the box shut and clomped for the attached door in her four-inch heels. “Sorry, Shauna. Had to be done.”
There’s the Kimmy she knew. “Thanks a lot.” Shauna marched to the box and shut off the sprinkler assault.
She hoped Richard would continue down the road. But the screech of his brakes ended that in a hurry. She pulled in a deep breath. Maybe she should have left the sprinklers on.
From the other side of the street, Richard popped back out of the car. He had one of those yellow, baby-buffer cloths and he wiped the glistening surface with quick, agitated strokes. He shot a brief glare in Shauna’s direction. “You could at least lend a hand…Is this hard water?”
Shauna ambled toward the street. She lifted her hand, pretending to inspect her manicure. “Sounds like you’re blaming me for this?”
He gestured to the house with the wadded cloth. “She’s your roommate. I don’t know how many times I’ve asked you to get rid of her.” He returned his attention to the car. “There’s another towel in the glove box.”
“Good.” It could stay there. Shauna pivoted. She hadn’t checked the mail in over a week, but she couldn’t think of a better time. If the mailbox just happened to suck her into another universe, the paper cuts would be worth it.
Richard’s tone remained clipped. “Where’s the costume I bought you?”
Shauna frowned. Wasn’t this supposed to be about him? One balloon of a chance to take the attention off her and it already popped.
“In my closet, why?” The answer came to her just as the words slipped out of her mouth.
“Do you really think the one you’re wearing is appropriate? It’s a charity event. Just because it’s a masquerade, doesn’t mean people won’t know who we are.”
That’s right. Halloween would hit in four days. There was the golden excuse. Not that she really cared for one at this point.
The mailbox lid opened with a metal screech followed by a clang as it hit its supportive post. She reached for the mass of papers and envelopes crammed inside.
“I hope you’ll consider changing before we go?”
That didn’t sound like a question at all—or a polite request. She funneled the bundle of papers into her arms. “We’re already late, and it’s been a long day. I’m not sure I’m up to—”
“I just don’t understand. If you already have a perfect costume, why would you come up with that?”
“Oh, I forgot about the party.” The air of challenge that invaded her voice seemed to come out of nowhere. From someone else. Pretty sure, her name used to be Shauna.
Richard crossed the street with agitated steps. “How can you forget if you’re dressed up?” His voice elevated. “Did you wear that to work?”
She flipped through the letters. “Yep…Work function. I didn’t want to get the other one dirty, and this was more playful anyway.” Oh. Good job. Way to work that spine.
Richard paused. “Just how playful were you planning to get—and what is this?” He snatched a small postcard from her bundle, studied it, and then tossed it back into her arms.
Shauna gave him a blank look.
His voice hardened. He shot her a curled-lip look of disgust, and nodded to the card again. “What is that?”
Her gaze followed the glossy, black postcard as it landed. “It’s mail.” She raised her brows. “My. Mail.”
“Honestly, sometimes I don’t even know you.” He looked pointedly to the double knot tied in her coat, as if he expected her to not have a stich of clothes underneath.
She had a sweater. An itchy sweater—one he bought, by the way—and it seemed to get uglier and itchier by the second.
“I don’t even know what you’re supposed to be.” He stepped closer as if to shield her from view. His voice lowered. “I don’t think you should be wearing that outside the house. In fact, you know what? Leave the mail. You can get it tomorrow.”
She motioned to her armload of papers. “But I’m already here.”
“Exactly. Where all the neighbors can see you.”
She gave him an incredulous look.
He snagged her elbow
and tugged her toward the door. “Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing you like this—”
Was that supposed to sound genuine?
“I just don’t want to share it with the whole world.”
She yanked her elbow free. “My thoughts exactly. So why don’t you go on without me?”
“That’s not an option.” He put his arms around her shoulder this time and urged her toward the door. “But if you really want to stay in tonight, I’d be perfectly happy to keep you company.” He nodded. “With the wedding looming, I think we may need to practice for those momentous traditions. The kiss, the garter, maybe even the wedding night?”
A cold ladle dipped into the pit of her stomach. Why did this escort suddenly feel like a serial killer ushering her into his basement?
Oh, I remember.
At the beginning of their relationship, Richard had the patience of a saint. A phenomenal snuggle buddy. He didn’t cause the reaction most men did.
Oh, she warmed a bit, but nothing noticeable. The reaction seemed mild enough that she even entertained thoughts of a normal life. A perfect life, as Richard would say. One picket fence, two beautiful children, and a dog with a jewel-encrusted collar.
So it wasn’t exactly love. More of an unspoken, mutual agreement for obtaining the American dream. He would have every excuse to bail out on high-society obligations, and she could finally live in her own dollhouse.
But the closer to the wedding—or wedding night—they got, the more intense her reaction had grown. And the more possessive Richard had become.
His plans weren’t moving fast enough, and apparently, he didn’t want that pretty little collar to get cold, so he’d fastened it on Shauna.
And the leash? Suffocatingly short.
She pulled away and gestured to the front window where the flicker of the television light shifted from blue to white and the curtain swung from its sudden release.
“Kimmy’s here. I doubt she’d feel comfortable—”
He gestured to the house with an impatient hand. “She’s always here. She’s a damn shut-in. And the reason why you have a bedroom door. We both agreed waiting for the wedding night was a cliché. How do I know our relationship is ready for a new level, if we don’t test our compatibility?”
