by JA Wren
Kally seemed surprised, but not nearly the shock and horror Rayna expected. She reached out and pinched black fabric between her thumb and forefinger. It disintegrated into ash, leaving fine black powder on Kally’s fingers. “And you’re hoping to get answers from this Labyrinth place?”
“I don’t know. I just learned about them ten minutes ago along with you.” Rayna shrugged. “Maybe.” She grabbed the blanket and shoved it back into the closet, then remade her disaster bed. “I don’t know if I can trust them, but if they’re offering answers…”
She trailed off, not even sure herself yet. Thankfully she still had a week before she needed to make a decision.
“I think you should go,” Kally said. “I could come with you, if you don’t want to go by yourself, but I think it’s worth looking into, Ray-Ray.”
Rayna nodded, staring at the dusting of black powder on the floor where it rubbed off the blankets. She might fear what could be waiting for her when she arrived at the address on the card. Kill-sites and all.
But she was more scared of herself.
And what she might wake up to the next time she suffered one of her incidents.
Two
Rayna woke with a pounding throb echoing in her brain, and little stars flickering across her closed eyelids.
God, she was never drinking again.
Why had she let Kally talk her into a night out?
Oh, right. Celebratory drinks after the successful opening of Kally’s first exhibition.
It seemed like a good idea at the time and supporting her best friend—well, her only friend—was important. No way could she say no. Not when Kally gave her pouty lips and reminded Rayna how hard she’d worked. Being a fine art major was hard-ass work.
But at least Kally had the opportunity to go to college, something Rayna hadn’t been able to afford without financial aid, and then the idea of huge loans squigged her out.
Which may or may not have been why she hit the liquor harder than usual.
Best part?
Nick had supplied the drinks since he was several years older than them, meaning Rayna’s bank balance didn’t suffer along with her. A good thing for someone racking up bills faster than she could pay them off with her waitressing gig.
Pinching pennies only got her so far, no matter how careful she was with her dollars.
The envelope!
In her hungover daze, she’d almost forgotten about the black envelope. A mysterious invitation she was just desperate enough to accept.
All week she’d considered the words, analyzed the note, and fantasized about the card. The promise of answers surrounding the weird incidents was what caught her eye at first. Distracted her from fully realizing where the invitation had come from.
Labyrinth Academy.
Academy hinted at a sort of college, right? Higher education. A chance to better herself. Maybe she wasn’t destined for failure. Maybe things were finally starting to go her way for the first time in twenty freaking years.
At least as long as they were offering a scholarship. Which she hoped was the meaning behind the mysterious sender’s words of special invitation.
Liquid heat spread through her, seeping into her limbs. Unusual for someone who spent ninety-eight percent of their time freezing their butts off. She could sit next to a space heater and still feel like a block of ice rested in her chest.
Was it the hope for answers? For a better future? Had that freezing core really been her fear of becoming the disaster her mother always said she’d be?
A deep groan rumbled from behind her.
Oh no.
Her eyes snapped open and she jerked upright, a wave of vertigo swirling through her. Way too much tequila. She tried to bury her thumping head in her hands, but she could only move one of them.
Her other arm was stuck under the stranger laying sprawled on the bed beside her.
Shit.
She thought she’d learned her lesson after that drunken night of Kally’s infamous Halloween bash six months ago. Not her finest moment waking up next to her BFF’s bad boy neighbor.
God, she never attracted the right guys.
Just another one of the many less-than-perfect qualities her mother flung at her during every argument they ever had.
Peeping through her eyelashes and the fingers of her free hand, Rayna risked a quick glance at her one-night-stand. A guy she couldn’t even remember meeting thanks to all those tequila shots.
He was still passed out cold, face-down on her bed. She said a little prayer of thanks the sheets seemed mostly intact. Rumpled, but hey, that was better than the tar-like black marks.
Just add it to her growing list of weird quirks.
Then the male body beside her registered.
Damn, the stranger in her bed was hot. And butt naked. Only her white sheets covered the lowest point of his back, exposing twin dimples right before the sheet covered his ass.
Even lying stretched out, she could tell he was mega-tall since he took up more than his fair share of the bed. A shockingly broad back rippled with muscles and gorgeous bronze skin she wanted to sink her teeth into.
Nope.
Scratch that.
She needed to get his cute butt out of her bed before she was late to a very important meeting.
Except her arm was trapped under his heavy chest, warmer than any flesh she’d ever touched. His heart drumming against her palm was weirdly soothing, and she got lost for a moment in the steady rhythm, counting the beats.
Rayna shook her head. This was not the time to get distracted. Mr. One-Nighter needed to go so she could get on with her life. Even if he was the sexiest man to ever grace her bed.
Her gaze fell on his face, relaxed and nestled against her pillow. Dark stubble covered his cheek and chin, matching his eyebrows and thick, black hair that was cropped in neat waves. She had the most unwelcome urge to run her fingers through the strands, see if they were as soft as they looked.
She snatched her hand away, inches from his dark locks.
Focus, Knox. Important meeting, remember?
But first, she needed her other hand.
As carefully as possible, she tugged her arm and tried to draw it out from under him. Another deep groan vibrated through the bed.
Double shit.
It was now or never.
With one hard pull, she jerked her arm from under him, somehow shifting him in the process so he fell to his side as she freed herself. Except, she wasn’t really free.
Rayna frowned at the glowy silver string tied loosely around her wrist and connected by a short tether to the stranger.
What. The. Fuck?
It seemed Mr. One-Nighter had a kinky side. One she definitely did not remember consenting to last night. Then again, she didn’t even remember bringing him home, let alone falling into bed with him and the ensuing kinky sexscapades.
What a shame!
Vowing, again, to stay clear of her temptress bestie and her free tequila shots, Rayna fiddled with the glowing string. She tried to slide it over her hand, but when that didn’t work, she searched for the knot keeping it in place. There wasn’t one.
With a huff, she pulled at it to snap the thin, delicate-looking thread, but it wouldn’t break.
Geez, what was this stuff made from?
“Hey,” she growled, shaking the guy’s massive shoulder. “Wake up and get this thing off me. Right now.”
Slowly, his eyes opened, his deep brown gaze landing on her and causing a heated ripple to move through her body. A lazy smile stretched his lips, crinkling lines around his eyes and creating an almost-but-not-quite dimple in one cheek.
“Rayna,” he whispered on a low rumble, sending an electric jolt of awareness down her spine.
Well, points for getting her name right the morning after, but—
He sat up, free hand curling around the back of her neck as his mouth descended on hers. The first touch of his lips moving against her lit a spark in the center of
her chest. Like the strike of a match igniting a small, growing flame, and she swore she could even smell a hint of sulfur.
It was a sweet kiss. Not at all demanding or even passionate. Not the type of kiss you’d expect after a hot one-nighter. At least not in her experience. Maybe she’d been doing it wrong all these years.
He pulled back a mere inch, eyes closed, pressing his forehead to hers so their noses touched as he breathed across her lips, “I missed you.”
“In the few hours we were asleep?” she asked, confused by his heartfelt tone, though strangely warmed by it.
He smiled, curling his hand into the loose auburn strands of her hair, holding her tighter and yet so very carefully. “It feels more like a thousand lifetimes.”
Before she could even process what in the world he meant by that, he inched closer. Slowly, as though giving her a chance to tell him no, or push him away.
But she didn’t.
Couldn’t.
Every molecule inside her warmed, already growing addicted to the heat he stirred inside her.
Mr. One-Nighter hovered so close, his hot breaths tickled her chin. Rayna closed her eyes with a contented sigh while his lips brushed hers in a whisper-soft kiss, coaxing her mouth to open.
When she did, instead of shoving his tongue down her throat the way most guys did when given free access, he smiled, lips curling up against hers.
This was like no other one-night-stand she’d ever had. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. Or the worst.
She allowed him to ease her back down onto the bed, her head resting against the pile of pillows. Just a few more minutes, then she’d send him packing. After all, she didn’t remember their first encounter, and it really was a shame to let such a hot guy walk out of her apartment with no memories to keep her warm at night.
She almost snorted at her own logic.
The weight of his body settling over hers drew her out of her thoughts. God, he felt good there. Right. Like a missing piece of a puzzle slotting into place. The perfect fit.
He pressed his hands to the pillow on either side her head, staring at her with emotions he could not be feeling after one night.
What the hell had she forgotten in her alcohol-induced-amnesia?
His kiss was more demanding this time, still tender but edged with passion that hadn’t been there before. He swept his tongue across the seam of her lips, urging her to open for him, only the tangled sheets between them.
She moaned, a flush sweeping through her as his tongue met hers in the hottest kiss she could ever remember experiencing.
“That’s it, love,” he groaned into her mouth. “Your body remembers me, doesn’t it?”
Apparently. Despite the gaping black hole in her memories. A tragedy, because she suspected it had been the hottest night of her life.
Wait.
Love? That was way too fast. Way too soon.
Oh no.
Maybe he was a creepy stalker or something. Or one of those clingy guys Kally always bitched about.
She’d binge-watched enough true crime stories to know how this ended. Right. She needed to get him out of here before her body had a chance to respond to him any more than it already had. Before it could override logic and turn her brain to mush.
“So, um, I hate to sound rude, but I have things I need to do today, so could you—” She held up her wrist to show the shimmery string connecting them. “You know? However you get this thing off.”
Mr. One-Nighter frowned, seeming to notice their bound wrists for the first time. “Clever goddess,” he mumbled.
“Uh, clever what-now?” Wait. Was he calling her a goddess? Or complimenting her? And did he think she’d tied them together? She shook her head. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. Just take it off. Now.”
He eased off of her, and she did not miss his warmth. Really. He was heavy as a truck and it was nice to be able to breathe again. Honest.
Even if he did take all his delicious warmth with him, leaving her to cool back into her usual icy state.
He took her shackled wrist with his free hand, holding it with infinite care, like he was afraid she’d snap in half if he touched her with more force. Okay, so that was a good sign. Mildly offensive, but better than the other extreme. Right?
“I can’t.” He traced her inner wrist with his thumb, circling it with a dizzying rhythm that left her lightheaded. “Only a daughter of the night has the ability to remove it.”
“A daughter of—?” Rayna snatched her wrist back, half tugging his with her. What with them still being linked together and all. “Okay, I don’t know what you’re on right now, or if you’re still drunk, but you really need to leave. Or I’m calling the cops.”
She felt a little silly threatening him, given how she’d acted up until this moment, but things had gone far enough, and it was clear he’d either snorted or smoked something.
Goddess?
Daughter of the night?
This wasn’t a damn vampire movie.
Ugh, how did she always attract the crazies?
Three
Mr. One-Nighter’s gorgeous face tightened with lines of tension as he held up their bound wrists. “Little hard to leave, isn’t it?”
“That’s not my fault. And you’re the one refusing to take this thing off.” She squinted at the string and swore it was glowing brighter. “What the hell is—?”
The alarm on her cell started blaring through her room.
“Shit.” The envelope. Her mysterious meeting. “Listen, you hear that? It’s my future calling. I have to be somewhere in an hour, and since I can’t have you dangling from my arm, I really need you to get this thing off.”
“I told you—”
She groaned and twisted to climb from the bed, off-balance with their wrists linked. “Worst. Timing. Ever.”
It was so typical of her to do this when her luck seemed to finally be turning. Of course something would come along to ruin that. She tried to wrack her brain to remember where things had gone wrong the night before, but everything was a pit of darkness after she left the art gallery.
Last thing she recalled was Kally begging for her to join them for drinks. Then nothing but a hollow chasm.
Her mother would be so proud.
She snorted at her own sarcasm. Sure, if they were still on speaking terms.
Rayna glanced around for clothes. Any clothes. They had to be lying around the floor somewhere, flung there during the haze of passion she couldn’t remember. Pity. If she was going to ruin her potential future, she could at least cling to the memories of their hot encounter.
Except there was no sign of clothing anywhere. Not even a pair of shoes. “Triple shit.”
She turned to find Mr. One-Nighter staring at her as he lounged on the bed behind her. His eyes smoldered, pupils dilating and absorbing his dark brown irises while his lips parted. In absolutely no rush to leave the tangled sheets.
Which had fallen from her body in her awkward quest for her clothes, leaving her just as naked as him.
“Hey, Mr. One-Nighter.” She waved a hand in front of his face. “Pick your jaw up off the floor and hand me that sheet.”
He smiled, lips quirking up and creating tiny lines around his eyes that somehow made him a million times sexier.
Not the time, Knox. Put your libido in your non-existent back pocket. And maybe get his number so you can call him later to hook up when you’re sober and can remember every second of round two.
She shook her head. What the hell was wrong with her?
He tugged the sheet free from under him and draped it over her shoulders, then pulled it tight to cover as much of her exposed skin as possible. Kind of sweet. She half expected him to resist, or maybe toss the thing at her.
A spark lit in her chest, urging her to fall back into his arms, but she didn’t have time.
Her future—and her need for answers about those recurring incidents—was more important than a quickie.
She
stood, taking the sheet with her. Which of course dragged him along, too, forced to follow with their bound wrists. “Whoa, I think you need a sheet of your own, Mr. One-Nighter.”
“Could you please stop calling me that?” he growled.
“Well, since I can’t remember your name…” She shrugged. “And don’t give me that look. Guys do it all the time, and I refuse to get into a gender war with you. Not when I’m already late.”
His dark brows practically merged he frowned so hard. “I’ve only ever been with you.”
Her eyes bulged. “You were—?” She shook her head. “No, you’re messing with me. No way a guy as hot as you wouldn’t have plenty of notches on his bedpost.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I assure you, there’s only ever been you.”
He was so earnest, his voice so low and resonating with truth it caused a pang in her chest. Because if he was being honest, then she’d taken the poor guy’s virginity. And didn’t even remember it thanks to her drunken haze.
Perfect.
Just perfect.
While she scrambled for something to say, something that wouldn’t hurt his feelings, he grabbed the gray blanket strewn across the foot of the bed, eyeing the black spots dotted all over it.
Okay, so it was a casualty of her most recent weird incident, but it was the only extra one she had left and she was running out of blanket funds. At least it was only partly scorched, not completely turned to black powder.
Mr. One-Nighter—hey, she could call him whatever she liked in her own damn head—fastened the blanket around his hips, and she tried to stamp down the twinge of disappointment.
She dragged him from her bedroom, past the living room, and into the kitchen where she searched for a pair of scissors. “Aha!”
Bringing their joined wrists up, she wedged the blades between her skin and the thread, then snapped at the handles to cut through the flimsy-looking string.
But instead of falling away as expected, the scissors didn’t even leave a mark. Like trying to cut thick steel wire with blunt kiddie scissors. Only a little electric hum said the blades had made contact.
