Page 14 of Spooked (31 Days of Trick or Treat: Biker & Mobster #13)
CHAPTER EIGHT
HOUND
Together, we step forward into her gramma’s bedroom, and I take a moment to check everything is exactly how I left it before.
But of course, it’s nothing like how I last saw it with my own eyes.
Instead, the room’s exactly as the photos foretold.
The unstable frame of a four-poster bed remains, still in the same state, with no mattress and no curtains.
The dressing table, I’d already noted, is opposite the bed, still lying upturned on the floor, and that wardrobe has doors hanging off, looking abandoned and forlorn.
The once majestic wallpaper is peeling off the walls.
Fucking TBI. I close my eyes briefly, swallowing down the panic of what that will mean for my future. Somehow, the hand I still clasp seems to ground me, keeping me in the here and now rather than losing myself in my fear of what lies ahead.
I even centre myself enough to realise that this decay is not how she would have wanted to remember her grandmother. I squeeze her fingers and hold tighter.
“Hound?” she asks, her voice tremulous and urgent.
It was only a moment I was lost in my head, but her tone gets my attention. She’s looking behind her, and as I turn, I can see what’s gotten her distressed. There’s a black vapour rising up the stairs.
Fire? But breathing in, I can smell no smoke, and there’s no crackling to suggest flames have taken hold. While being trapped upstairs as the house burns would be dangerous, what panics me more is that there’s a shape to the blackness, and the way it swirls shows deliberate intent.
A shiver of fear goes through me. Is she seeing what I am?
If she is… if she’s sharing these sights and sounds, then this isn’t just my hallucination, this is hers.
She’s certainly scared by something. Her eyes are wide, her breaths are close together, her pulse racing when I clasp my hand to her wrist. As the blackness continues to swallow what’s behind us, I throw caution and my doubts about my sanity to the wind as I clump my way back to the door and slam it shut.
On hearing a loud gasp, I turn back around.
Gramma’s bedroom looks completely different, transformed just as it had been last time I was here.
Sumptuous velvet curtains surround the four-poster bed, and there’s an inviting-looking mattress on it, covered in colourful bedclothes.
The peeling wallpaper I’d observed just moments before is now fully restored and looking luxurious.
But it’s not the furnishings that capture my attention.
It’s the couple who’ve suddenly appeared.
She’s lithe, stunningly beautiful, looking like she’s somewhere in her late twenties, wearing a dress covered in peacock feathers, headdress to match, and he, considerably older in age, in a smart, tailored tuxedo.
As they move close, despite the age difference, it’s impossible to miss the love shining out of their eyes.
The man, as if entranced by the woman, steps forward, holding on to her upper arms. “Emerald, my love, my darling. I can’t believe it. That you are here, that you are now mine.” Reverently, he lifts her left hand, exposing the glistening wedding band on it, and kisses her fingers.
Emerald sighs deeply, placing her right hand over her heart. “Oh, Bertie. You can’t know how happy I am. I still can’t believe that you saw me, saw the woman beneath the charade, while others looked right through me. I’m the luckiest woman in the world that you took me away from the club.”
“Never doubt yourself,” he growls. “I might not have been the one to build this mansion, but seeing you here, I know it was made for you, and only you. You were always worth so much more. Others might have denigrated you for your choice of career, but I know you had no alternative. You were only dancing at that club as a way to support yourself.” Pulling her to him, he surrounds her with his arms. “No matter how many others’ eyes were upon you, you were mine from the moment I saw you, and will be until the end of time. ”
“I’m yours,” she half-whispers in response. “Will you pinch me? I feel like I’m living my best dream, and that I’ll wake up in a moment and know it’s not real.”
Bertie chuckles. “It’s as real as it can be. We’re married. My ring on your finger proves it.” He rubs the hand he’s still holding. “You can’t escape now.”
A soft tinkling laugh comes from her. “The last thing I want to do is run. I love you so much.” She casts a look down at the sparkling diamonds on her finger, twisting the ring as if to confirm it’s there. “And this house? Bertie Sullivan, I adore everything about it.”
“Emerald Sullivan, I love you.” His eyes flare, and his mouth tightens. Then, in a gruff voice, he tells her, “And now I’m going to take you for the first time in our house.”
Gently, he places his hands on her shoulders and turns her around, his fingers going to the buttons fastening her dress at her back.
Slowly, tortuously, he unbuttons them one by one until the gossamer material and attached features fall to the floor.
He spins her back to face his front, giving me a ringside view of her corset, boned and tight, high panties, a suspender belt, and silk stockings covering her legs.
Emerald gasps, leaning forward, placing her cheek to his shoulder, and wrapping an arm around his neck.
Oh fuck no. Sure, I’ve been a voyeur on numerous occasions, single brothers and sweet butts aren’t shy in our club.
And I’m also guilty of taking more than one of the whores in public, but that’s exactly what they signed up for.
But watching what can’t be anything other than ghosts getting their freak on?
Nah, there’s no way I ever signed up for this.
As for Maeve, the last thing she wants to see is her gramma, as that’s who I’m assuming this is, get fucked by her grandad.
I know I need to get her out of here, but when I try to step away, I’m unable to move, my feet solid as though they’re cemented to the spot.
Worse, as the couple approaches the bed, they seem to walk straight through us.
Is Maeve sharing my illusions, or has time and space frozen only for me? I can’t even glance her way to check.
I feel no fear, only discomfort that I’m present at the prelude to such an intimate moment.
The air shimmers, and now I’m facing the other direction, a direct view of the couple standing by the mattress.
I sense Maeve is still beside me, but I’m unable to reach out my hand to give her support, nor turn my head to see whether she’s disgusted, upset, or whatever her emotions are, seeing her ancestors about to get their kink on.
Both of us are a trapped audience, whether we want to be or not.
Emerald now gets into the action, putting her hands on his chest and starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. The expression of love in her eyes cuts me to the core. “You were the only one who saw me, who knew what I was and was not.”
“You are a treasure.” His hands smooth back her hair as he stares lovingly into her eyes. “The way you danced entranced me. Always in peacock feathers.”
“Because they matched my eyes.” She gives a gentle smile.
He presses a finger over her lips. “I know you say that I saved you from that life, but the truth is, you’re the one who saved me.
” He throws back his head, then looks down once again with a grimace on his face.
“You were never a whore, I knew that. You were a woman who had to do what she had to do to get by. Well, damn those who look down on me for marrying the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“Your friends think you’re crazy.” She chuckles.
He grins salaciously. “They can think what they want. I’m the one who got the prize.”
“I love you so much,” Emerald assures him.
While the cynic in me thinks, considering his retelling of her past, she may well have latched on to any man willing to pull her out of the pit she’d fallen into, her breathy tone has me almost believing her.
Anyway, Bertie might not have gotten the bad end of the bargain.
She sure makes good arm candy. Personally, I reckon his friends might well be jealous that he gets to call her his.
“Damn, baby, I love you so much.” Bertie’s eyes glaze as he focuses on her.
“I can’t believe we’re together, here in the house.”
Chuckling softly, he replies, “Wel we are. And now I want to claim you as mine in every possible way that a man can.” Impatient, he doesn’t wait for her to slide all the buttons out of the holes. He rips his shirt apart, sending a scattering of what are probably pearls all over the floor.
His breathing has sped up, his pupils enlarged, his eyes blazing lust.
Oh hell. I’m no prude, but I feel like I’m intruding on something intimate, a first mating of a new husband and wife. I’d give anything to get out of here.
She places her hand against his now naked chest. “You’ve already done so much for me.” She gives a little laugh, comprised of musical tinkling notes. “The men and women who looked down on me will all be begging for invites to our soirées now.”
“Where you’ll win them over,” he tells her.
Again, her tone is full of mirth. “Because you’ve given me respectability.”
Clearly impatient and done with the conversation, he turns her around and starts undoing the laces of her corset.
As the garment loosens, she crosses her arms over her chest. She’s facing me, so I’ve a front-row seat to see the hint of uncertainty in her eyes, her voice tremulous.
“Go slow, Bertie. I’ve never done this before. ”
Like fuck, she hasn’t, I think with a slight grin. Poor Bertie, she’s probably pulled a blinder on you.
Seems I’m not the only one who doubts her as Bertie pulls her to him, cradling her head. “Em, I don’t care if I’m the first or hundredth man to have you, I just want to be your last. I’ll make it good for you, baby. I promise.”