“I was sitting out here.”
“Why?”
“I think you probably know why.”
“I don’t. She’s not that special,” he mutters, trying to grab the bottle from her.
“Excuse me?” Hannah says, keeping hold of it. “I’m completely special.”
“Fuck off. Give me my vodka.”
I watch them both, unsure where this new dynamic between them is coming from. I don’t like it much. They’re like a pair of children fighting for air time. “What is this?”
“We made a bet. I won,” she says.
“What about?”
“I said you wouldn’t have fucked something else. He disagreed.”
I smirk at that, eyes glancing at Malachi. “You know I don’t. That’s a terrible bet to have made with her.”
“You do now,” he says, pointing at Hannah. “Have done. With her.”
“And only her.”
“Why?”
“Everything else isn’t her. She’s the only one of her there is.” He scoffs and whips the bottle of vodka from her grip, tipping it to his mouth.
“Told you,” Hannah says, walking back to me. “Completely special.”
“What are you supposed to do now you’ve lost your bet?” I muse.
His head spins back to me, the glower that was directed at Hannah suddenly turned on me.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not doing it. It’s my trick not hers.”
A half laugh barks out of me, body rising. He’s right. It doesn’t matter. I look at Hannah, moving the robe out of the way so I can look the stripes over. Not too bad, but for the fact they’re on her skin in the first place. I trace the lines with my fingers, listening to her inhale on every pass over them. “Do they hurt?”
“Not particularly. No more than the first set.”
“And you didn’t enjoy it?” She thinks about her answer, tilting her head about as I keep touching the reddened areas.
“I enjoyed the orgasm.” As usual where Malachi’s concerned.
“Did you need to say no?”
“Couldn’t have even if I wanted to.”
My eyes slant to Malachi, a snarl forming because I know all too well what that means. “You gagged her?” A laugh comes out of him, head shaking at my unamused tone.
“She’s alive, isn’t she?” he says, moving to sit on the arm of the chair near Faith. “I listened intently to your attempt at command.”
“How the hell were you supposed to hear a ‘no’ with her mouth gagged?”
“Stop being a dick, Gray. Relax. You’re both welcome to stay as long as you want. She doesn’t want to say no. She wants everything and you know it.”
I sigh the underlying jealousy away that the thought causes and disregard any need for retaliation for his idea of fun on her skin. Pointless and juvenile. Just like him in this mood he’s in. Making a bet? It reminds me of times gone. Idiotic times where people were nothing but cards in his deceptive little games. And I’m not prepared to get into a sixteenth century duel about someone I have no right to protect, anyway. My only job here now is to get her away from this before she, and I, fall too far into the sense of escapism he provides. Not that I feel entirely predisposed to the idea. I know that feeling of need this place provides all too well, but I’ve forced myself to leave on several occasions before. I’ll do it again now.
This is done
I turn from looking at him and face Hannah, reaching for her hand. “We should go then now before you start forgetting who you are,” I mutter, grabbing it. “You’ve had your fun, Hannah. Time to go.”
Her whole body stiffens and steps away from me, her hand ripping from my grip and her eyes narrowed as she goes. “No.”
“Hannah, you-“
“No.”
“This isn’t going on. I told you to remember who you are. You’re losing yourself.”
“I’m not. I’m finding myself.” Faith laughs in the background. The sound annoys the hell out of me. “Staying. Still. I want my dark corners. You go if you want to.” Her body backs up to Malachi, neck rolling as she gets comfortable against his bare chest. “But I thought you were enjoying this too, Gray. You’re a fool to leave. Why would you? This place is everything.”
“Because I can’t do this with you, Hannah. You know that.”
“You can. You are doing. We’re free here.”
I frown and look between the three of them, anger brewing because of Faith’s continued laugh, Malachi’s arched brow, and Hannah’s own sense of superiority that’s becoming intolerable. And then I’m watching as she puts a pill in her mouth from somewhere, sinking another one soon after.
“I don’t know why you’re being like this, Gray,” she murmurs. “We’re here to have fun, aren’t we? Have a pill. They’re yours after all, aren’t they?”
My fists clench at my side, trying to stave off the inevitable explosion that wants to come out of them because of her incessant dismissal of logic. “Hannah. We are leaving. Move before I make you.”
“Oooh. Masterful,” Faith giggles.
“Get your ass into the corridor. We are leaving,” snarls out of me, ignoring her.
“No. Fuck off,” Hannah snaps in reply. “I will not do as I’m told. By you or anyone.”
“I don’t think she wants to leave, Gray.” Malachi.
I glare at him, and then back at Hannah. “Last chance.”
“Until what, Gray?” She starts laughing about something, her frame continuing to rub against Malachi in some show of insolence. “There’s no pain you can bring that I haven’t already felt. I’m enjoying broken. Leave me alone.”
I bite the words back in my mouth, keeping them locked down rather than carrying on with arguing. This isn’t an argument. This is an order, before she goes mad like everyone else who stays too long. She has a life outside of this place. A world to get back to so she can organise the rest of her time in it. This is neither real nor acceptable for normal human beings, and if physicality is all she understands now I’ll use that rather than conversing.
I move quickly, hands reaching for her to drag her out of here if I must. She ducks sideways from Malachi and sprints around the furniture, her ass moving swiftly through the open doors to Malachi’s bedroom. The door gets slammed in my face before I can catch her, lock engaged. I pound at it repeatedly, shouting at her to open the fucking thing again. Nothing. No answer. No opening. No damned response. There is only the sound of these two behind me with their laughs quietly echoing around the room.
“Unlock the damned door,” I shout again.
Still nothing. I glower at the wood, knowing there’s not a chance I can break it in. Fucking castles and their wood. I pace by it, more anger and rage building because of her insolence, the fact that she’s locked a damned door on me again, and the situation I’ve allowed to happen around us. This is all my own fault. And now what? Wait it out until she’s had her fill of this place and the people in it?
“All of this is futile, Gray,” Malachi says. “As you well know. Leave her here. She’s not your problem. Or consideration.”
I round on him, my body half a breath away from showing him exactly where my thoughts about this woman are. They’re engrained. Deep seated and formidable when it comes to getting her out of here, let alone the unbearable thoughts I’m still having about some sense of possession I shouldn’t have.
He doesn’t move an inch, just stares me down as if any threat I might bring is irrelevant to him. “Make her open the door,” I grate out.
“No.” He shrugs and moves a step backwards, turning away from me. “She’s welcome to stay in my room as long as she likes. I like not liking her. She’s intriguing.” Faith moves in the background, mixing herself another drink and still damn well giggling about the situation.
“Malachi.”
“What?”
“She’s not a toy.”
“Of course she is. And at the moment so are you if you carry on behaving like an idio
t.” He takes a drink from Faith’s hand, his body slumping down onto the armchair. “Just let her go, Gray. What does it matter?” It matters. It matters too much for me to deny or forget.
It shouldn’t, but it does.
I grab at a chair and move it to the door, planting it down so I can sit and wait. “You have no right to take her if she doesn’t want to leave. In fact, as you know, you have no right at all.”
I snarl at that and focus on the door, mind trying, and failing, to wrap itself around that obvious statement. No right at all. None.
Chapter 11
Hannah
W hy is he so angry? I don’t understand. Leave?
I’m not leaving. Wouldn’t leave before, and I’m certainly not leaving now that he gave me to someone else to play with.
My feet traipse around the room, thoughts trying to find a reason why I would leave anything. And I thought he wanted here and me. He told me he did. He held me and whispered words in my ear. Dirty words that pulled us deeper into each other. I felt them inside me, understood them like I’ve never understood anything before. Everything outside here means nothing compared to the feelings I have inside these walls around me.
I stop by the window and look out into the expanse of snow dimly lit beneath me. What time is it? Night? Day? I shiver and bite at my nails, as I think about his stance out there. So definite. So harsh and angry because I wouldn’t do as he asked. Don’t care. I don’t. I am me. My own decisions and my own thoughts. And he gave me to Malachi. He did. He must have passed me over in my slumber and offered me up like a piece of meat for use. I don’t like that much.
My brow twitches and I open the robe around me, looking down at the bruised and welted area on my stomach. Didn’t like that much either, but the orgasm? I liked that. I giggle lightly and turn from the window, part skipping through the space in search of a bathroom, as I remember the consuming feeling racing through me like a tornado.
Shower? Hmm.
Another shout through the door reverberates all over me, making my feet stop in answer to the call. Open the door? No. Not unless he asks me nicely and then comes in here and does the thing we’re doing while we’re here. All this shouting and anger is reminding me of things outside of here, of times I don’t want to feel or think about. Rick is dead. Gone. As is my marriage and any thoughts of monogamy. I am new and fresh and happy to dwell under this roof until those thoughts no longer mean anything to me but distant memories I care little for.
Still, I am poised by the door, listening to his huffed breaths behind it. I can feel them in me, circulating and winding around my bones as if they’re part of me. It makes me squirm, as my hand rests on the wood, my nails lightly scratching and tapping to find rhythm again.
Only a few inches between us. Inches that seem like miles when he’s angry and rage filled about something he doesn’t need to be rage filled about. Nothing here is anger, not even the pain that still floats on my skin now from Malachi’s torment. Here is laughter and light. Amusement. Even fear seems tinged with a happiness I can’t describe. I want it again. All of it. I want ball-gowns and dancing, happiness and twirling. And I want it from Gray. No face veins anymore. No hate or fury or scrambling across the floor in search of answers I don’t have. Just that feeling that he gives me, that connection.
Faith had a ball-gown on. Red.
I don’t want red. I want black. Black to match my darkened mood, regardless of the light and fun around me. It’s the new me, the me who lives in that dark now and enjoys the wretchedness of the dour colour on my skin. Straps, ball-gowns, underwear. Buckles, chains. What’s the difference? Naked even. Naked is good. Naked is strong and unabashed.
I strip the robe from my shoulders and let it pool around me on the floor, my fingers still scratching at the door for Gray. He’s here. There. Right behind this wood barring me from him. Harsh fingers. Solid and unforgiving. Not like Malachi. No light feathers or teases. No separation either in the middle of hedonistic fun. I wonder if he dances well. Malachi did.
I want a ball-gown.
The key slowly ratchets the door open and I stand almost naked under the frame. He’s in a chair about five feet back, staring at me. No movement on his face. No ease to the severe gaze he bestows because of my actions. Just dark, torrid eyes and a scowl firmly entrenched, as if he’d stay there all night, day, whatever it is, and keep looking at me until I follow him out of here.
“I want to dance,” I murmur, moving forward. “With you.”
No movement or show of agreement. He’s motionless. Stagnant in his position with his fingers steepled under his chin. Perhaps he’s still mad with me. I’ve got no time for that. Nor has he. Neither of us has time nor care for antagonism because of this place. I move closer slowly, watching the crease in his brow dip further in. “Why so serious, Mr Rothburg?” I smile and wait in front of him, less than a foot between us and only panties in the way for him. “Don’t you want me anymore?”
Still no response but those eyes burrowing into mine. They’re fixed. Unwavering. Cruel again beneath his brow. Sexy really. I laugh and sway, enjoying the enchantment of the pills as they chase through me and disperse whatever rationality was lingering inside. No time for rational. No need or want for it.
“Are you dancing, Gray?” I ask, swaying and moving around him towards Malachi and Faith. “You could wear that tux you offered and we could dance all night. Fuck all night. Isn’t that what you want?”
Malachi chuckles in the background. I look over slowly, taking in his frame sat in a chair on the far side of the room, Faith draped over him. He sucks at the straw she’s holding to his mouth, pulling down long slow draws on her drink, and quirks his lips at me as if something is funny. Nothing is. I mean every word. All night. A long night. And the next day, too. If it is night. It always seems like it’s night here. No light in the air to brighten anything. Only dim candles and murky corridors leading to new rabbit holes. “I need a dress.”
“I have a dress,” Faith says behind me. “It’s pretty, like you.”
“Black?”
“Yes. Lacy. Tight.”
“Mmm.”
My body keeps swaying, a chorus inside my head giving me a beat to dance to, as I move back around in front of Gray. “Come dance with me, Mr Rothburg. Give me your all for the night. You can’t hurt me.”
Maybe I’ll listen to him then. Find sense in his senseless words about leaving. Once he’s claimed me again in some way, made me behave with his heavy hands and vicious teeth, made me want to behave again, I might forget he handed be over to the man behind me as if I was a toy.
I sit over his lap, legs stretched around his body and my hips getting comfortable on him. Still no movement. He doesn’t even budge his steepled fingers so I can get to his mouth and relive the kisses we’ve shared. “Or you could leave and I’ll find someone else.”
My fingers trail along the sides of the chair, gently trickling over the wood. Back and forth, forth and back, waiting for answer to my needs. So cold again. So rigid beneath me and uninvolved. I should tell him another story, murmur words of blowjobs and dirty, dark corners. Men with their harsh hands in my hair and their cocks down my throat. He knows that one now, though. Has felt me around his cock. Used me when I was willing to be used.
“Go and find your dress,” he says, snarling.
My smile brightens instantly, legs starting to climb off him excitedly, but he clamps down so severely I gasp at the feeling. “One night, Hannah. One more night and then we leave.”
The fingers bite in further, to the point where I start heaving in breaths and trying to squirm away from him. He doesn’t let me in the slightest. Just stares again until I eventually begin to quieten and accept his handling. “You will leave this time.”
His brow arches, a show of intent if I don’t acknowledge the apparent order I’m being given, and he slowly begins reducing the restrictive grip on me. Hmm. I ease back from him, quietly moving away as his hold slips from my skin.
“I mean it, Hannah,” he says, watching me move towards Faith. I’m sure he does, but that doesn’t mean I’m going unless I choose to.
Faith’s already climbing out of Malachi’s lap by the time I reach her, a smile on her face about something as she stands. “Shall we?” she says, walking for the door.
I take a last glance back at Gray, wondering what he’s still so angry about. I can still feel his anger on my skin now, despite him not touching it anymore, still feel the imprint on the back of my thighs. It bites in deeply, nullifying the sharp ache on my stomach that Malachi delivered and making me question how he’s about to behave with me.
There’s nothing on his face but that stoic cruelty he bestows so well. Then he just gets up and walks from the room without acknowledging me any further.
“I hope you’re ready,” Malachi murmurs from his chair. I swing back to look at him, sharp eyes snatching looks at his amusement. He tips his gaze up to the ceiling, away from me and whatever I might think of his opinion. “I think you’ve infuriated him, Mrs Tanner.” He sucks at his straw again, still chuckling under his breath. “I’ve never seen that from him before. He's normally so calm and methodical with his fun.”
I don’t know what that means, but Faith pulls my hand to drag me from the room before I can delve further into what it might mean. She giggles in front of me and skips, the long trail of her dress bouncing as she goes. “Delicious,” she says, giggling again. “First he manhandles me, and now you. What have you done, pretty thing?”
The sweeping stairs are in front of us and we’re climbing them before I get my bearings in this place. I rush up them with her, my feet tripping every other step at the speed she’s travelling. Corridors blur and distort, as my mind tries to keep up with the haste. Deep red corridors. Dense blue ones. Nothing’s slow anymore. Not sensuous nor sumptuous.
Ornate carvings decorate the ceilings, gargoyles staring down on me with their hostile eyes. I can feel myself shrinking away from them, troubled by the way they morph and change as we keep moving. Maybe it’s me and these pills. Must be. Gargoyles don’t move.
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