“Why?” echoes around the cave from her lips.
“Because …” I don’t know why. Mainly because she’ll freeze to death. And that is fucking stupid.
I huff and walk forward again, feeling the water seep into my shoes. Damn Malachi and his games. I stare at the mask, wondering how many pills she’s taken to get her in this state. “Just get out the damn water.”
“I’m evolving, Gray. Changing. I can feel it.” I shake my head. She’s going mad is what she’s doing. “And Malachi hasn’t said.”
I curse under my breath and look back at him sitting casually on a rock, the red mask focused on her and nothing else. “Are you going to get her out?”
“No. Not until she wants to. This isn’t about you anymore. Let her be, Gray.”
I frown and look back at her in the water, feet inching further in to get her, but she starts moving, seemingly dancing to music no one can hear but her. My frown lifts quietly at the sight of it, mind suddenly engaged in something other than temper because of her. Slow movements in my eye line, all of them shrouded in some dark sense of despair or torment.
I gaze on, as she turns and swirls, spellbound by the cadence she’s creating and forgetting about the freezing air around us for a minute. Every pulse of her body moves gracefully. Every sinew runs into the next as if trying to complete a puzzle, connect bits. Shadows play around the cave with her, occasionally turning orange and red to match the flickering flames.
My hand reaches into my pocket, a pill taken out and swallowed so I can feel whatever this is for her. Evolving? I chuckle lowly and keep watching, as she comes closer. She pushes her hair back from her face and climbs forwards, each step taken lifting her body another inch from the water. Shoulders, chest bone. The black near see-through bra now on show, water spilling along her body with it all.
My dick hardens, thoughts of panic or fear lost as she keep moving towards me. Her hips sway to her music, a tight line of lace covering parts reserved for me alone and running over her bones. I growl and think of Malachi with her, of the things he might have done even though I handed her to him. Jealously.
Covetous desire.
I back away from her as she gets closer because of my inability to keep the torment of something I want under control. It’s too strong inside me. Too meaningful. She is. And it’s all becoming more valuable to me than anyone here could imagine. I want it all. I want to stay and live, evolve with her and find sense in the senseless. Forget.
Hide maybe.
“Are we dancing now?” she asks. I watch her lips shivering, droplets of water still cascading from them, as she smiles seductively. No shame on her face. No appearance of remorse or confusion anymore. “I asked for that. I want that now. With you.”
Her hand reaches for my face, fragile, icy fingers landing on the stubble. “Where’s your mask?” she whispers. I don’t know. Don’t care. Thrown away, along with my care for the outside world around us. And I’m not hiding from her now I’ve sunk this pill. Don’t want any games either. It will be us and us alone. All night. Without anything or any thoughts getting in the way of that.
I pull her to me, gratitude and appreciation for her life filling me with more thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking. But they’re there now. Deep inside and rooted. The acceptance makes me tip the mask off her face for that reason alone and cast it out into the water. Too attractive. Always was, even at the wake in her dismal state. And especially at the opera with tears in her eyes. I gaze at the features staring at me, letting myself fall deeper into them until I can see through the pupils dilated into corners filled with dark intent. Tonight. All night.
Forgetting.
Her hands hover on my jaw, lips trembling with unspoken words between us. I don’t need to hear them. I can feel them now the pill is circulating and connecting us again.
“Put your dress on, Hannah. It’s time to dance.”
She waits, no movement at all, as she keeps staring up at me and blinks. My fingers move of their own accord, pushing one lone, slick curl of dark hair back into place, and then I do the only thing that makes the apprehensive air around us tolerable. One step away, two, until she’s on her own again and waiting for instruction. She’s not getting any. Not now. Now she can make up her own mind and work out what I want from my stare alone. If she wants connected, if she wants my all, then she can feel her way through the experience and hang on if I offer that support.
My feet are heavy as I weave the tunnels back to the upper floors, laboured for reasons I can’t explain. Maybe it’s the continued guilt raging inside, the sense of remorse already mingling with anticipation. It doesn’t matter now, though. I’ve done it.
Am doing it.
I wait at the top of the steps, eyes peering at the invasive yet provocative devices in the smoking room, and shake my head at a sultry woman who approaches me.
“No?” she says, with a pout. No. Not even as she moves her body seductively, swaying for me so I’ll take hold and rut into her with any of the equipment available.
I look past her, through her, and think of the woman who’s coming to dance. Lithe. Small and fragile. A rare beauty that was draped in misery and wretchedness meant for me alone. My mouth smiles, soiled thoughts scattering aimlessly because of the visual that presented. But that doesn’t seem all she is anymore. Evolved. Changed.
And that goddamn smile will be etched into me for as long as I live.
Several large dildos lie around, wet and used. A cane untamed thwaks the ass of some insubordinate. I pull out my pack of cigarettes and linger against the wall, eyes searching for inspiration to pain her if that’s what she wants or I feel like. I’m not one of these people. Never have been. I watch. I watch and loiter in obscure corners while others moan and groan in the middle of their discourse. My dick likes it all, though. It rages and hums with its own sense of need, denied torment making it feel vicious and aggressive for more of her skin.
I pull in a lungful of smoke and chuckle, wondering why nothing has tempted me before her, and then stub the damned thing out and move through the rooms without care to the thoughts. What does it matter why it’s her? It just is. We have just become. Malachi is right whether I accept that or not. And I will miss this more than ever when we leave because of her.
I’m about to swallow another pill, throw myself off the goddamn cliff with no turning back, when the shadow of a hooked nose blows up on the far wall. I look behind me and see him stalking through the chambers, women’s hands reaching for him as he goes by. He pushes them away, his mask focused on me alone in the middle of all this.
“She’s waiting for you on the floor,” he says. “Hurry before someone else gets hold of her.”
I nod and stare at him, feeling a need to apologise for whatever that was down there in the cave. No need, though. He would have thrown me out of here if he was offended by my agitation without any more words on the matter.
“And Gray, stay off the pills.” A woman slips her arms around him, another one joining her and running her fingers over the mask. He chuckles darkly at them both and pulls them in tight, eyes still looking at me behind the covering. “Enjoy her. I did ask her to do the same, but you had to pick a wilful one, didn’t you?” One of the women coos, her leg curling round his. And then he’s gone into the dark depths of the crowds, no more words to speak.
No more games to play.
Wilful? Yes. Yes I would pick a wilful one. A wilful and direct one. I turn and focus on the corridors to get out to her, barely any other thought or care on what I’m doing, and replace the pill I was taking with a different one. I’m doing her. That’s all. And by the feel of her tonight, by that smile she delivered, she’s doing me, too.
The thought makes me growl and speed up, part amused at her tenacity to get into me even though I’ve done nothing but keep her as distant as I can. There is no distance anymore, and regardless of people getting in my way, and more women trying to tempt me passed my need for her, I keep moving and cutt
ing through the masses to get to her alone.
Faith appears in my view in the side lines, her blue dress lost and nothing but skin and a mask on show as she beats a man with a chain. I sneer, bypassing the scene, and finally get to the main floor, my eyes searching for Hannah in the crowds. It doesn’t take me long to find her. She’s in the middle of them all, arms stretched up to the ceiling above her as she watches women tumble from the silks. She’s laughing and alone, remarkable regardless of the swarm of bodies around her. In fact, the sea seems parted for her.
I cut through some of it and linger on the edge of her small, empty circle to watch more closely, hypnotised. Her dance. Her. My hands move softly to my pockets, as the train of the black lace tumbles and turns with her. Long graceful movements again, as if she’s still in that water and evolving past who she was before. Good. Maybe she’ll be ready for the outside world now. My thoughts darken, eyes skimming her body repeatedly as I think of the possibilities I can’t have other than this night. That’s life, though. It’s my life, anyway. No matter how much she makes me want something different.
Chapter 15
Hannah
H e’s here. I can feel him. I smile and twirl, part lost in all this glory and part letting him inch into me from wherever he is. Strong hands. Forceful hands. They’re on me, guiding me, as I keep coiling and turning. Fingers are biting in, bruising me and ruining thoughts of other men.
A woman falls down towards me, billowing silk waving out behind her over all these people, as she spills to a few feet over my head. I giggle and watch, suddenly feeling part of these people. I’m not lost here now, I’m found and willing, laughing with them and enjoying all this place has to give.
Gray.
My own hands move around my skin, gliding over it in a movement I’ve not felt before. It’s almost toxic on me, burning and lethal for some reason. My stomach tingles from the welts still there, but now they hum and sing at the same time, making me smile and glide around. Around and around. Over and over as the woman climbs back up the silk. I want to climb. I want to climb to the top and fall back down with her, knowing I’ll catch myself and hang on to me alone.
Alone. But I’m not alone here. I’m part of two.
Connected and necessary.
A sharp grab to my waist pulls me tight against solidity. My eyes close, heart understanding who it is before my face needs to recognise him. He’s so familiar now, part of me. Equal and opposing in the threat he brings to my feelings here. My fingers are grasped, the chain on my wrist moved and linked to him, and his large hand settles possessively on my lower back. Elegant. Tight. Firm and unyielding.
“You look like sin,” he murmurs, pulling me closer.
My head rolls back at the thought, exposing my neck to him so he can bite it some more if he feels like it. Suckle it and render me desperate as his teeth latch on. “I feel like sin.”
He starts moving, guiding me wherever he wants as if there’s no one else but us. There isn’t really. Never has been. Even when that man was inside me, and even when Malachi played and moved me, it was always Gray inside my mind. He was there even if he wasn’t. Making me think and feel, touch and linger without thought.
I laugh as the spin increases and pull my head up to look at him, relaxed and safe in his arms. I don’t want to look anywhere else but at him. I want those cruel eyes and that haunting glare to contain me, use me, lift me wherever he needs me.
Dark, stormy eyes look over my shoulder, as he pushes us through the rest and into the amused spin we’re all in. And then the music changes, a waltz I’ve heard before sweeping us all further into frivolity. He mutters something to himself, angry words about torment, as he stiffens slightly. I don’t care for anger. Nor do I care for him feeling he needs to be. We are together and twirling, laughing and enjoying.
My fingers move from his shoulder to his neck, body getting as close as I possibly can.
“How much more dancing before we fuck?” I whisper through the noise. His lips twitch, the frown lifting because of it. “Because I want that.”
The grip tightens, hand moving lower.
“How? Tell me your stories,” he says smoothly, changing direction and slowing us.
“Stop dancing and I’ll tell you.”
Another move, his feet forging us somewhere, and we come to an abrupt halt with no one in our way. I stare at his features as they come back to look at me, and freeze in dance hold still. So handsome. Angry and volatile, regardless of the tux he’s wearing.
My hand softly grazes the back of his neck, nails trailing skin and winding into his hair. So familiar now. Tense muscles. Tense sinew and bone holding him upright. I squirm at the thought of all that aggression and smile, wondering what the Gray who isn’t aggressive might be like.
“Talk, Hannah.”
“Why are you so angry with me all the time now?” He stares back at me, his fingers gently releasing my hand to travel to my face. His own slackens, all that hostility and cruelty replaced by softer, more relaxed features I’ve barely seen before. Fingers travel over my skin softly, cheek, lips. I lean into them, letting my own linger on the sharpness of his stubble, the severe line of his jaw.
“Because you’re a torment I should deny, Hannah.”
“Why?”
The world around us seems to go quiet at that question. There’s nothing but the two of us in the middle of this space, a sea of bodies blurring around us, as I tilt my head for an answer. No answer as he gazes, though, and lightly traces the side of my face. Seems silly to deny anything here to me. Here isn’t for denying or rejecting. It’s for acceptance and tolerance, for feeling and living.
“Why would you-” His lips are on mine before I finish, his tongue sweeping through me like a storm I’ve fallen into. I groan and go weak in his hold, letting him sweep me up in any storm he chooses.
The fingers tighten on me, brutal and unforgiving as he picks me up from the ground and keeps kissing me, and then we’re moving again. I don’t care where. Anywhere. Everywhere. I’ll go anywhere with him now, fall anywhere because he brought me to this place. Led me here.
I tighten my own arms around his neck, clinging on to deepen the feel of his mouth on mine. Carried, pitched, and turned. The music isn’t even here now, only him and his mouth, his body moving firmly, until the air goes black and there truly is nothing but us.
Quiet. I still as he pulls back from me and slowly drops me down his body. My heels touch the ground, his hands balancing me until I regain my own balance.
“Did you like what Malachi did to you?” he asks, removing the chain from his wrist and backing away into a dark corner.
“Yes.” I think I did anyway. Some of it. Not all. But that seems to be a thing here, a par for the course in this destructive yet whimsical world I’m in.
He growls and steps out into a small slither of light again, tugging at his bow tie and releasing the button beneath. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Couldn’t explain it if I tried. Do I need to?”
The jacket gets shrugged from his shoulders and cast to a deep red chair, his fingers rolling up his sleeves reveal lean, toned forearms. “Yes. I like hearing you talk about fucking.”
I smirk in the dim light and watch as he walks to me and holds out a striped, yellow pill.
“I didn’t fuck Malachi.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
“That’s a first.” He looks at my mouth, then back up to my eyes. “Take the pill. Swallow.” Another sly smile crosses my features. Yes. More drugs we can do. I swallow and watch him back off from me, planting himself in the chair to face me. “In case you didn’t know, I like everything about you, Hannah. Your skin, your attitude. The feel of your cunt.”
I almost gasp at the crude word, and then remember where I am and who this man is becoming in front of me. He’s changing, relaxing and giving me his all rather than the brusk, sharp nature I’m used to. I laugh a little and move toward him, intrigue
d at his smooth baritone lingering in dark corners “Stop where you are,” he murmurs. “Right there in that light.”
I stall slightly, unsure of this new version he’s presenting and how I move around him. “Take the dress off. Slowly. Tease me into fucking you like you did before.” Still I hover, unclear of his intent. And then I laugh lightly and reach for the back of my dress slowly. The intent is to fuck, to wind him up and make him move into me like he always does.
My hips start their rhythm to the dull beat I can still hear through the walls, the chain dangling idly from my wrist, as I pull at the top half of this dress. It falls as easily as it did in the cave, the underlay of fabric slipping over my heated skin like a knife through butter. I step out of it the second it lands, using every muscle I’ve got to weave and tease him into action. Nothing moves him, though. He sits in the shadows as still as a wolf, quiet as a jackal in hiding.
I smile at that and let my body move again. I can dance like this all night if he wants, use myself to indulge the fantasy of him on me. In me. Fingers travel over my throat, breasts, ribs, and my stomach. I trail them and twist, lowering them down to the apex of my thighs to tease myself if nothing else. Everything’s rubbed and caressed, fondled and agitated until I’m moaning under my own torment.
“Fuck yourself,” he says. “Behave like a whore would.” The words stall me, legs stiffening slightly. “Be as dirty as you can be for me. One night.”
A shyness suddenly settles from nowhere and my body seems stuck in stasis. I shake my head to clear it, only to realise it is clear. Crystal clear. The room around me. The feel of my skin under my hands. I lift them up to my face and back up a step from him, shivering slightly for some reason I can’t explain, as I look at my fingers. “I don’t ... don’t know what’s happening.”
I feel different. Insecure and scared about nothing at all. I look back at Gray. Nothing’s changed about him sitting in the dark. Still as moody looking as he was a minute or so ago. Still large against the deep red leather he’s sitting on.
A Torment of Sin Page 11
