Page 59

CHAPTER

FORTY-THREE

REMI

I wake to the sound of laughter.

The scent of marijuana.

For a second, I don’t know where I am as I sit up, blinking my eyes open in the darkness. Panic lights through me, my heart racing as I yank the covers up to my chin.

Then I remember, and I breathe just a little easier, reaching for my phone from the nightstand beside Cortland’s bed.

I came home with Van last night.

Cortland was waiting outside of my dorm room, his arms folded over his chest as he stared at me making my way down the hall. Told me to pack a bag and he took me here.

Since Sloane is still with her sister, I skipped class today.

He did too.

And as I strain my ears, listening while my phone lights up in the room, I notice it’s Storm’s dark rumble of laughter coming from downstairs.

I smile to myself in the dark and check my phone.

Van

Miss you, meet me tomorrow for lunch.

Sloane 3

My sister snores like a freight train. You never do. I wanna come home.

My smile widens, and despite the fact I know this is all a dream that’s going to end with me waking up in a nightmare… everything feels light.

Like I needed to face him before I could move on. Before I could stop replaying that night in my head. And maybe something is wrong with me for wanting to be anywhere near him, but it’s like whatever he did to my head that night, now my crazy matches his crazy.

I toss my phone down on the bed, and think to go back to sleep, but I hear Cort’s easy laugh and I want to be near him.

It’s just after midnight. I was exhausted after our sex marathon throughout the day, but now I want him again. The first few times in his bed, with the light streaming in, they were nerve wracking. But he was gentle. And sweet. And now… I want him.

I fling my covers off, bare feet hitting the wooden floors.

For a second, I think about grabbing my hoodie slung over the back of his chair at his desk. I’m in a white cami, black shorts.

And Storm is down there.

“You like him looking at you?”

Storm Leary. Who would have thought he’s not so scary after all? But then again, Cortland and Storm have seemed a little on edge since camping, and I know that Cort said he wasn’t talking to Maya at all anymore.

He said that was over.

I walk to the door, pull it open and head down the stairs quietly, my hand gliding along the railing. I see the flash of the TV screen, and I’m momentarily grateful I didn’t actually break it.

I reach the bottom of the stairs and turn to face them both, sitting with enough room for me to sit between them on the couch, their feet on the coffee table, food in their laps, beers on the table.

Storm exhales smoke through his nose then sets his vape down on the side table, his eyes on me.

My heart picks up speed in my chest as I stare at Cortland.

I’m not sure what’s playing, a conversation between a family about skeletons in closets.

“Come sit with me, baby,” Cortland says, running his hand down his thigh. Both of them have their shirts off, both in black basketball shorts.

Cortland is more muscular, they’re both about the same height, and Storm has a darker shade of hair and bluer eyes. But they look alike in the dark, and I imagine what it would be like to touch them both again.

I swallow that down, cross my arms over my chest and walk around the coffee table, sliding past Cortland. He slaps my ass as I do, and I laugh, slowly sitting down on the couch between them, tension heavy in the room.

Cortland’s arm comes around me, his thumbs brushing my bare shoulders. He tosses his empty bag of chips on the table and pulls me into his chest. My fingers splay along the hard muscle as he kisses me, and I taste alcohol and chocolate and salt on his mouth.

“You good?” he asks me, pulling back, his gray eyes searching mine. He’s so fucking hot, his hair a mess, slight circles beneath his eyes, one hand on my face as he stares at me like he treasures me. Like we can forget that night ever happened.

At least for right now.

“She’s good,” Storm answers for me. Cortland looks over at him, arching a brow.

Slowly, I turn my head, and Cortland drops his hand from my face.

“Aren’t you, little wolf?” Storm whispers, parting his knees wider, his thigh brushing mine.

I swallow, hard. “Yeah,” I answer him. “I am.”

“Try it again,” he says, reaching into the bag of Reese’s in his lap, unwrapping an orange square.

“Try what again?” I ask him, feeling Cortland pulling me closer to his warm body.

“This movie.” Storm dips his head. “Same one from the last time you… panicked.”

I take a breath, my chest heaving, and I’m painfully aware of my pebbled nipples beneath my cami as I turn my head to the movie.

There’s a priest on his knees at an altar, and I watch as the cross slowly slides along the wall, turning upside down while his eyes are closed.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

I turn my head to grab a Reese’s from the bag, then notice again that it’s in Storm’s lap.

He glances at me, hands on his thighs, black basketball shorts past his knees, the crumpled-up wrapper from the Reese’s he ate on the arm of the couch.

At my side, I feel Cortland tense. I feel a sudden flush of warmth as I realize I’m staring at Storm.

And he’s staring at me.

“Go ahead, little wolf. I don’t bite.”

I swallow, hard, near silence from the TV. I know what that means.

Something is coming.

I turn to stare at the screen. The priest is gone.

There’s a room with only a bed. A door flung wide open. No one in the frame. Silence.

My skin crawls and I reach for a Reese’s.

My hand finds the bag, and I dive in, fingers curling around a small square.

A creak of floorboards sound from the television.

I tense, feel Cortland’s fingers brush against my neck, the little hairs there standing on end beneath my sleep tank.

A man’s voice from the TV. “Damien?

Silence.

I start to pull out my candy, the plastic crinkling and feathering over my skin.

“Damien?” The man’s words are edged with fear.

Cortland’s warm, calloused fingers circle around the back of my neck and I bring my knees to my chest, my shorts riding up as I do.

I still haven’t pulled the candy to my lap.

And just as I go to do that, a nearly-naked woman appears on the screen.

Dark hair.

Blue eyes.

Crawling upside down on the ceiling, hair-raising music playing softly through the speakers.

I jump, cringing as I start to wrap my arms around myself but Storm darts his hand out, circling my wrist. Keeping my hand in his lap.

I flinch, sucking in a breath as the woman crawls down the wall, her pupils nearly drowning in black as a man says her name over. And over. And over. Lilith.

“Yes, my lord?” the woman whispers as she keeps crawling along the floor, dressed in a skimpy nightgown, slashed and stained with blood, her every move disjointed. “I’m here, my lord. I’m here.” Her breasts sway as she crawls, the camera focusing on her pebbled nipples.

A low moan sounds in the distance.

The woman’s head twists around at an unnatural angle as she searches for the source of the noise.

Again, I try to jerk my hand from Storm’s.

Again, he holds me there.

Fear coats the inside of my mouth, like acid.

I close my eyes, taking deep breaths. It’s not that scary. And it’s just a movie. But it’s a reminder. Of real things.

“Don’t look away, Remi,” Cortland whispers, his eyes on the screen. His fingers are clamped around the back of my neck. “We’ll keep you safe.”

I look up at him, and find him staring at the movie. I glance down, at his shorts, and I can see his erection tenting them.

Swallowing, I turn toward Storm. Take in his sharp jawline. The way Cortland holds me just a little closer.

Slowly, Storm releases me, pulls the Reese’s from my hand. He fists the bag, leans over to set it on the table, and as he does, my hand comes to his thigh.

My instinct is to snatch it away.

My heart races, chest tight, but I keep my hand on his thigh. I feel his muscles flex as he leans back on the couch.

And slides closer to me.

I inhale, catching the scent of both him and Cortland. Forest and leather.

Danger and safety.

Cortland’s hand comes to my jaw, and he turns my head to the screen. “Keep watching, baby,” he says softly. I swallow, his thumb tracing my jawline.

Storm’s hand comes over mine on his thigh, his fingers through my own. But he doesn’t hold my hand; he slides it up.

Higher. And higher.

I gasp just as another woman slowly sits up in the bed, her shirt clinging to her breasts, damp with sweat. She wasn’t there before.

My fingers close around Storm’s erection, and he glides my hand up and down the length of him as the woman stares at the man Lilith called “lord.”

She smiles.

But something is wrong with her eyes. They’re just two black pits.

My body feels tense and hot all over, and my heart is racing. Storm glides my hand down lower, off of him, and I feel relief and disappointment rush through me.

His own hand comes over his cock, palming it over his shorts.

The man screams.

The women laugh, both of them on their knees in front of him now.

“Damien isn’t here,” they whisper over and over, their words manic.

I turn to face Cortland, my hand still on Storm’s thigh.

Cort was already watching me.

His expression is unreadable.

“Cortland,” I breathe out, my fingers desperate to help Storm but…

“Yeah, baby?” he asks me quietly, his thumb stroking the side of my face.

“What should I do?” Those words are hoarse.

Cortland twists to face me more fully as the man runs, his breaths loud from the speakers.

Cortland brushes a lock of hair from my face. “You want to watch him?” he asks quietly, nodding behind me. To Storm.

My heart skips a beat. My tongue feels heavy. I curl my nails into Storm’s thigh.

“I don’t know,” I admit.

Cortland smiles. “That’s a good answer.” He leans in close to me, his mouth over mine. “Maybe he wants to watch us.” His fingers shift back to my hair the moment before his lips find mine.

I hear Storm’s breath catch.