by Lynch, H. G.
I gasped, but a hand came over my mouth, muffling it. I started to thrash, but my captor easily held tight. He turned me round to face him, and heather-grey eyes shone in the darkness. A wave of recognition passed over me, but I couldn’t place it.
My captor leaned close, and I felt his breath against my neck as he whispered, “Say yes.”
His other hand snaked around my waist, holding me tight against his chest. Slowly, he lowered his hand from my mouth, and when I didn’t scream—I was too breathless, too surprised—he smiled, flashing white teeth. I drew a breath as my body reacted with shocking intensity, and he lowered his mouth to my jaw, his lips tracing a burning line to my mouth.
Against my lips, he murmured again, “Say yes.”
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I nodded and whispered, “Yes.”
He growled low in his throat, and suddenly lifted me by the waist. I wrapped my legs around him reflexively, holding on to him tightly with my thighs. When he shifted me, I felt his erection press against my leg, and I gasped. He held me up with his firm hands on my ass, my arms around his neck, and his lips and tongue worked against my neck, drawing a pleading moan from my lips.
Brogan turned, dropping me onto the bed, and slid on top of me before I could even think of escaping—not that I wanted to. Hovering above me, his eyes shined like lights in the darkness, smouldering. His lips curled, and he lowered his head, his soft hair tickling my chin. His teeth sank into my neck.
I jolted awake with my heart racing and lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling. The room felt absurdly cold, and as I rolled over, I saw why. My bedroom window was open, just a crack, and the blinds were rustling. The streetlamps outside cast stripes across my ceiling, making the shadows in my room shift like living creatures. I blinked, rubbing my eyes. I couldn’t remember leaving the window open, but I was too tired to care. I got up, closed it, and crawled back into bed, tucking the duvet up to my chin.
I didn’t have any more dreams that night.
Chapter Six
** Brogan **
I knew something was very wrong the second I heard shouting from the hotel room Brent was staying in. There were at least two guys in there with him, and they didn’t sound happy. My gut dropped as I stood outside the door, listening, a wad of cash burning a hole in my back pocket.
After Brent’s visit on Saturday night, I’d spent the whole of Sunday and Monday trying to think of some way to come up with some extra cash for him, fast, and failing. I wasn’t going to borrow from Jet, though I knew he had the money and would give me it, no questions asked. Like I’d said, I wasn’t bringing him into the shit. Besides the rich, lonely housewife I knew, the only other plan I could come up with was robbing a liquor store. Thanks to Brent’s shit, I’d done that before and had spent six months in juvie.
I was twenty-one. I wouldn’t get off that easy. I’d be locked up for a good few years if I was caught. I wasn’t risking that, not for him. So, out of options, I had finished work on Tuesday and called up Mrs Hamilton. She was glad to hear from me, and said her husband was out of town for a business convention all week, so I could come over right away. I felt sick to my stomach the whole way to her massive, gated mansion.
Don’t get me wrong, Mrs Hamilton—“Please, call me Livvy,” she always said—was a good-looking woman for her age, which I suspected was more than a few days over the thirty-four she claimed to be. Still, I hated whoring myself. It was something I hadn’t done since I was sixteen, and I’d really rather not return to it. Those had been desperate years of my life, when I’d been on my own and in need of money, and just coming into my powers. I’d been horny as hell, and confused, craving Lust and blood in almost equal measure and unable to control myself.
I’d eventually learned to control my Hungers, saved up enough money to get a flat, and gotten out of that game. I was never going back. That night was just…a hiccup. After that, I had vowed, Brent was on his own. No matter how much he begged next time he got into shit. I was sick of being his fucking life preserver.
My evening with Mrs Hamilton had earned me thirteen-hundred pounds cash. The woman was very generous with her husband’s money. It had also lost me half my total self-respect. I felt dirty. But I had sucked it up, kissed Livvy on the cheek, and headed to the hotel Brent had set up in.
Listening to the argument going on inside, I was considering bolting. I so didn’t want to get in the middle of anything else. I could just walk away, a grand richer, and save myself a shit-load of trouble. However, Brent…Brent would be done for. Red would slice him up like Christmas turkey, and fuck, I couldn’t let that happen to the bastard.
I mentally punched myself repeatedly, lifted my fist, and knocked on the damn door. Instantly, the yelling inside went silent, and my heart slammed into my ribs. I wondered if it was too late to run, but then the door clicked open on the chain, and I knew it was. A cold, black eye regarded me through the crack between the door and the frame.
“Yeah?” the owner of the eye rasped like a three-packs-a-day smoker. “What the fuck do you want?”
I recognised that voice, now that it wasn’t yelling, and a little of my tension eased. “What, you don’t recognise me, Jim? I’m hurt.”
That black eye blinked at me and squinted, then Jim grunted and slid the chain off the door. He swung it open, and I stepped into the room, taking in the undamaged state of the cheap furnishings, the familiar bulk of Jim’s “bodyguard”, Lee, in the corner, and Brent slumped on the bed in his boxers and a cleanish grey t-shirt. He looked pale, and there were deep circles under his eyes, but aside from that, he didn’t look too bad. Although, from the littered cans all over the room, he’d been drinking.
“You’ve changed, boy,” Jim rasped.
I sized him up. It had been a few years since I’d seen him, and despite his occupation, I kinda liked him. He was a little shorter than me, and a lot rounder, going bald quickly and scarred down the right side of his face from a run-in with an unhappy customer long ago.
“Last I saw you, you was still turning tricks to pay the rent. Heard you got out of that game, though.”
Feeling the weight of my ill-gotten money in my pocket, I shrugged. “Yeah. Got myself a real job. Even got a roommate these days. I’m doing okay.”
Jim nodded, rubbing his scruffy jaw. “Glad to hear it, lad. Really, I am. But if you ever need a new job, I’ve got a spot going—not prostitution, of course. See, Lee over there is getting on in years, and I could do with a new bodyguard, and I’ve seen you fight, kid—I’d pay you double whatever you’re making now.”
I frowned as if I was considering it—a job offer from Jim wasn’t something to be sniffed at, even if I had no intention of ever taking him up on it. Slowly, I shook my head, feigning regret. “Sorry, Jim, I don’t think so. But I’ll keep it in mind for future.”
Jim grunted, satisfied. “Your loss. But now, well, unfortunately I’ve got to deal with your uncle. I lent him some money a while back, and he’s yet to pay up, see.”
I wanted to bang my head against a wall—or punch Brent in the jaw. Instead, I sighed and asked, “How much is he due you?”
Scowling, Jim eyed me. “Still paying off your uncle’s debts, lad? Not to sound cold, but you really should learn when to cut your losses.”
Honestly, I’d been thinking the same thing over the last couple of days. Calmly, I said, “How much?”
Shrugging, Jim looked at Brent, who wisely kept quiet, and said, “‘Cause you’re footing the bill? I’ll let him off easy and say four hundred.”
I nodded and reached into my back pocket. I counted out four hundred from the stack of cash, and handed it over to Jim, who didn’t look happy about it. But he took the money and stuffed it in his jacket pocket.
“Lee, let’s get out of here. And Brent? You best behave yourself. You’ve got a good boy here, but he’s not going to keep putting up with your shit forever, you know.”
Jim patted me on the shoulder as left, Le
e trailing after him like a very large shadow. The door shut behind them, and I flicked on the chain reflexively. Then I turned to Brent and crossed my arms.
“You have no idea what I had to do for that money.”
Brent, more relaxed with that one debt settled, stuck his hand under his pillow and pulled a pack of cigarettes. He tapped one out and put it between his lips while he searched for his lighter. “Actually, I think I’ve got a good idea what you did for that cash,” he mumbled, giving me a sly look. “I can smell it on you. Hope you at least got a good feeding out of it.”
As an Incubus himself, Brent could smell Lust the same way I could, but he was better at controlling his Hunger. It was about the only thing he had any self-control over. Then again, I didn’t doubt a large part of his debts were due to him paying off the husbands of women he fed from. Brent wasn’t discreet about his feedings.
I curled my lip, clenching my fists. I was determined not to hit him—it would be like kicking a dog when it was already down. But, damn, he was pushing my buttons. “That money was meant to be to pay off your debt to Red. I’ve still got nine hundred on me, but how many other debts have you got, Brent? Who else do you owe?”
He finally found his lighter and held the flame to the tip of his cigarette. He puffed on it, dropped the lighter, and shrugged. “Nobody else. Just Red and Jim. And you just took care of Jim, so really it’s just Red.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. I was tense in all sorts of ways. I needed to let off steam and feed—properly. Not paid for. As soon as I was done there, I was going out and finding a girl, any girl, to take the edge off my stress.
“How much do you still need for Red?” I asked, dreading the answer.
Brent chewed on the end of his cigarette, as he always did when he was thinking. “Well, I’ve got a bit over nine grand stashed away, so…only about six thousand, I think.”
Six thousand. Six thousand pounds. And it wouldn’t take Red much longer to find Brent. He was going to come knocking in three days, maybe four days, tops. I couldn’t get together that kind of money in four days, not unless I found another housewife willing to pay for it, and I wasn’t going there again. I wasn’t.
Fuck. I was screwed. No, a dark little voice in my head whispered, Brent is screwed. It isn’t your problem. You tried to help. This is his mess now.
I wanted to listen to that voice, I really did, but my goddamn conscience wouldn’t let me. Looking at Brent, all scraggly and pale, he looked so pathetic. Bastard or not, he was family. Sighing, I closed my eyes.
“I’ll get your money,” I said, regretting every word as it came out of my mouth. “Just stay here, and stay out of trouble. I’ll be back in a few days.”
Chapter Seven
** Kester **
I stood in front of my full-length mirror, frowning at my reflection. I’d donned a plaited tartan mini-skirt with black tights and my Doc Martens, as well as my black leather jacket over a corset-style halter top. My wine red hair rested in loose curls that reached half-way down my back, my green eyes were lined in thick black eyeliner, and my lips were tinted with plum-coloured lipstick.
In other words, I was dressed for a party—a party I couldn’t believe I was even considering going to. I looked down at the scrap of paper in my hand, the bold writing on the back staring up at me, tempting me, mocking me.
PARTY FRIDAY 10PM. COME ALONG IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND. B.
I bit my lip, hesitating. I shouldn’t go. I knew I shouldn’t. For all I knew, it was a trick to lure me to his place, to get me alone, so he could do God knew what to me. He could be a rapist or a murderer or…just a really hot guy who wanted to show me a good time.
I fully believed Brogan was capable of blowing my mind if I let him. There was really no question. I wanted to let him. I didn’t know what it was about the guy. I’d only met him twice, but I couldn’t get him out of my head. Even the thought of his name, of his intense eyes, of his smile, made me squirm with desire for him. He was like a magnet, drawing me in irresistibly. I couldn’t fight his pull. No matter how dangerous he might be.
Finally, I swore, shoved the receipt-invite into my jacket pocket, grabbed my bag, and scribbled a note to Evie, who was out with James again. They were supposedly seeing a movie but most likely sitting in the back of the cinema with her tongue down his throat. But hey, who was I to judge? I was about to go to some random guy’s house for a party just because I thought he was hot.
Hormones—One. Common sense—Nil.
The address on the invite was on the edge of the seedy part of town, and the block of flats in front of me looked like the home of drug dealers, pimps, and a possible murderer. Standing on the street, shivering in my Doc Martens, I was starting to second-guess my decision to come.
I could hear loud rock music pounding from one of the upper floor windows, laughter and cigarette smoke pouring out into the chilly night. Down the street, a pub was spilling light and drunks onto the pavement. I knew that, if I didn’t make up my mind soon, one of those men would spot me, and I’d probably be in trouble. Sure, I could easily outrun any of them, but still…why risk it?
Sighing, I made up my mind. Determinedly, I strode up to the door of the block of flats and pressed the service button. It buzzed, and I pushed open the front door. The inside of the building looked as grimy and seedy as the outside, and there was a strong smell of piss permeating the air. I held my breath, stomped up the concrete stairs to the third floor and found the number of the address written on the invite. From the noise coming from within, it was definitely the right place.
That was my last chance to back out, to turn around and go home. I should just forget about Brogan—but I knew I couldn’t. That guy was under my skin already, and I figured the only way to get him out was to get the insatiable craving for him out of my system.
I raised my hand to knock on the door, but before I could, it swung open, letting out a blast of warm air and loud music. Brogan stood on the threshold, grinning down at me, looking delectable in a tight black t-shirt and ragged blue jeans. He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, his eyes sweeping over me, and I flushed. How could he make me want him so badly just by looking at me?
“Well, well, well,” he murmured, his voice low and clear over the thumping music and chatter from inside. “I was wondering when you would show up.”
I noticed he said when, not if. As if there was no doubt that I would turn up. He was just that cocky. I smirked at him. “Don’t flatter yourself. I only came because my better offer cancelled at the last minute,” I lied, cocking one hip with attitude.
Brogan smiled, as if he knew I was lying, and said, “Oh, really. Well, I guess you’d better come in then. I’d hate for you to have dressed up for nothing.”
Inside, the flat was surprisingly spacious, but I guessed that was because of the lack of furniture. Besides the sofa, an old boxy TV, and the kitchen appliances, there didn’t seem to be much in the way of home comforts. The floor was bare wood planks, warped and stained, and the walls were painted dark granite grey. The colourful attire of the party guests livened the place up a bit. There were girls in neon tutus or hot pink spandex, and guys wearing either much the same as Brogan—though they didn’t look nearly as good—or shorts and bright body-paint splattered on their bare chests.
Music blared from an iPod docking station in the kitchen, where a huge dude with a blonde ponytail and facial tats changed the track from Rammstein to some dance tune. The people dancing and grinding in the living room didn’t seem to notice the change.
Brogan scowled and yelled over to him, “Hey, Jet, what the hell is this shit?”
The big guy, Jet, flipped Brogan off.
Brogan snorted and shook his head, muttering, “That’s what I get for putting my roommate in charge of the music.”
Then he looked at me and a shiver passed from my head to my toes.
“First things first, let’s get you a drink.”
&
nbsp; I didn’t protest as he grabbed my hand and dragged me through the throng of drunken, gyrating guys and girls. His fingers were long and strong, gripping mine tightly, and I remembered with painful clarity how they’d felt rubbing me through my panties at the club. Immediately, my stomach tightened, and my face turned hot.
Brogan glanced back at me, his heather-coloured eyes blazing with hunger from under his unruly black hair. He paused, pulling me close, and bent to whisper in my ear, “Patience, Kez. We’ve got the whole night ahead of us yet.”
My heart tripped over a beat from the silent promise in his words, and suddenly being patient was the last thing on my mind. Brogan smirked, and towed me into the kitchen area. He grabbed me a can of cider out of the fridge, and told me not to move while he went to talk to the big guy, Jet. I watched them talk for a moment, saw Jet glance at me and nod. I nodded back politely, and he said something to Brogan. Then Brogan was back by my side, watching me sip from my can.
“What was that about?” I asked, jerking my chin toward Jet, who was back to fiddling with the docking station.
Brogan blinked. “Huh? Oh, I was just telling Jet to quit fucking with the music. Nobody wants to listen to Lady Gaga for Christ’s sake.”
He was lying, I could tell, but I didn’t push. I didn’t really care if he was talking to Jet about me. I was there for one reason; to get this guy out of my system, so I could go back to my life without him plaguing my dreams every night.
Of course, Evie was going to have a fit when she found out. But whatever. At nineteen, I was technically an adult. I could do what I liked, and she was the one who was always telling me I was too uptight. Well, for one night only, I was officially loosey goosey.
