Page 7 of Savage Blooms (Unearthly Delights #1)
CHAPTER FOUR
Adam
Adam tossed and turned all night. Sleep came only in fitful snatches, and when it did, he was assailed by strange, dark dreams. When he finally awoke and checked his phone to find it was three in the morning, his recollection of the dreams was hazy.
He was sure someone had been saying his name, over and over again, in a voice he couldn’t recognize.
There had been a sensation of liquid cold, like being dragged under icy water, and a constriction in his lungs, from crying, or drowning, or both.
Adam heaved a breath and tried to banish all memories of the dreams. It was hard to sleep in this creepy old place, beautiful though it was, and harder still without Nicola’s soft breathing near by. He had found it comforting to doze off with her right below him in the hostel bunk beds.
Adam tossed back the covers and slipped out of bed, the footfalls of his bare feet muffled by the thick green carpet.
His room was more than comfortable, with a cushy if creaky queen bed and a writing desk by the window, but he had no idea what to do with himself this late at night.
His laptop was charging in one of the only working outlets in the room, and he hadn’t brought a book with him.
When Adam traveled, he traveled light, with a purpose, and intent to see as much of the world outside his room as possible.
He resolved to go find Nicola, who he suspected wouldn’t be able to sleep either. Maybe she had a melatonin gummy, or even better a weed gummy, or at least the sense to convince him to try to go back to sleep on his own.
Easing open his door, Adam crept into the hallway.
He navigated mostly by instinct, trying in vain to retrace his steps.
But instead of taking him back to Nicola’s room, his feet led him deeper into the manor, down stairs and through corridors hung with oil paintings of dogs chasing after wide-eyed hares.
The hares gazed up stricken at the sky, as though pleading to an unfeeling God to spare them.
Eventually, he spied a light up ahead, spilling out of a cracked door.
Thinking he had somehow found his way back to Nicola, he quickened his pace.
But as he drew closer, he saw that it was far too large to be the door to any bedroom.
There were muffled voices inside, rising and falling, and the crisp crack of what must have been a fire popping.
Overcome with curiosity, Adam nudged open the door a few inches.
The library was low lit in firelight, which cast long flickering shadows on the bookshelves.
Finley was standing in front of the fire, something gripped tightly in his hand.
He was barefoot, wearing jeans and a Henley with the sleeves rolled up.
The cording of the muscles in his forearms was evident in the stark shadows, and his jaw was set.
With an imperious tilt to his chin, he looked like an entirely different person to the sulking groundskeeper Adam had met mere hours ago.
Finley reared back and brought the item in his hand down towards the floor with that crack that Adam had heard earlier.
The sound went through Adam like an electric shock.
A riding crop, he realized.
Finley was holding a riding crop.
Adam’s gaze instinctively followed the arc of the crop down to the ground, and then his heart stopped.
Eileen lay on the Persian rug wearing nothing but cigarette pants and a bra, a high color in her cheeks.
Her hands were bound with a length of silk, and there were pulsing red stripes across her back where the riding crop had made contact.
She huffed out a breath, giving a little sigh as Finley struck her again, and then again, circling her like a predator scenting prey.
Finley’s eyes tracked her every movement, jumping from the fluttering hollow of her throat to the heave of her chest to the twitch in her bound fingers.
It was the kind of perfectly captured focus Adam only saw when people prayed, or when his more academic friends studied for their finals.
When Finley snapped his fingers, Eileen rolled onto her back, and Adam spied the rose-petal pink of her nipples through her sheer lace bra. There was something luridly appealing about the sight; Eileen in dark trousers and very little else, trussed up like the centerpiece of a feast.
Arousal and horror warred in Adam’s stomach.
He should not be here.
He should not be seeing this.
Just as Adam was about to hightail it back to his room, Eileen’s head lolled to the side, and she made eye contact with him through the crack in the door.
Her dark gaze scorched across his skin like a hot coal.
Adam knew he should have the decency to avert his gaze, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from her. He was transfixed.
Finley didn’t seem to notice their unspoken exchange.
He abandoned the crop on a nearby settee and leaned down to thread his fingers through Eileen’s hair.
Sweat shone on her collarbones, evidence of exertion, or desire, or both, and her lipstick was smeared.
Finley tugged Eileen up to meet his mouth, his grip punishingly firm, his kiss all the more indecent for its gentleness.
Eileen kissed him back and all the tension sagged out of her shoulders, her knotted muscles relaxing until her entire body went limp.
Adam pushed himself back from the door, stumbling into the hallway.
Dreaming. He had to be dreaming. Some strange mixture of jet lag, exhaustion and not having been laid in recent memory was conspiring against him, making him hallucinate dark things about his hosts. He needed to find his way back into his body, still doubtlessly asleep in his bed.
With his skin on fire and a churning in his gut, Adam stumbled back towards his bedroom.