Page 124 of Wrapped in Their Arms

“Why did you do that?”Thunebellowed, shouting atBurn.“Howdare you make a mess in our playroom?Badpiggy-wig!Bad!”

“I won’t let you make me hurt her again!”Burnshouted, his deep voice raw with fury—and something else.

Guilt,Noellethought.He’sstill feeling guilty.

Her throat tightened at the sound of theDarkTwin’sanguish and self-loathing.

Burn meant it—hestillfelt awful about last night, even though it hadn’t been his fault.

“You’re going to clean that up on your hands and knees!”the middle head raged.“Butfirst you’re going to pay!”

He pressed a button on the remote clutched in one thick-fingered hand andBurndropped like a stone.

His massive frame hit the ground with a thud and he writhed there, fists clenched, jaw locked tight.Hisface contorted in agony.Redfire flared in his midnight eyes.

“You… fucker…” he gasped, convulsing.“You’ll… be… sorry!”

“The only one who’s going to be sorry isyou!”Thuneroared, spittle flying from all three mouths.

Noelle flinched and pressed herself against the wall, hands over her mouth.

“Stop.Stophurting him.Pleasestop,” she begged.“Hedidn’t mean to—please!”

At last, the middle head pulled his thick thumb off the button.Burnsagged to the stone floor, panting and shaking, his jaw still set like iron.

“Go and get the cleaner bot!”Thunesnapped, turning to her suddenly.Hepointed a meaty finger at her chest.“Hurry, piggy-wig!Wecan’t have fun until everything is all cleaned up.”

“I’ll get it!”Noellegasped, and fled.

Her feet pounded up the stairs two at a time, heart slamming in her chest.

The hallway upstairs was marginally less smelly but no less oppressive.Thewalls seemed to lean in around her, thick with tension and the electric buzz of hidden danger.

She reached the end of the hall and found the cleaner bot tucked under a small side table, humming softly in sleep mode.Itlooked like a robotic turtle with glowing blue wheels and she supposed it was this world’s version of a roomba—only it was twice as big.

Noelle bent to grab it, struggling to lift the surprisingly heavy machine.

Come on, come on, come on…

At last she managed to pick it up and stagger down the hall with it.Thethick carpet made moving harder, butNoelledidn’t mind.Shetook her time returning, stalling for time.

Please let the medicine work,she prayed.Pleaselet it hit him fast.Pleaselet it make him pass out cold.

She had no idea how long the sleeping medication would take—or how it would mix with alcohol.Thebottle had only promised anadversereaction—whatever that meant.

Noelle hoped it was bad—reallybad.

At last she reached the door to the basement again and braced the bot against her hip as she started back down the stairs.

The stone steps were cold and rough against her bare feet, each one a descent deeper into the belly of the nightmare.Theair grew heavier, thicker, as she moved downward, the oppressive silence of the house giving way to a low, pervasive hum that set her teeth on edge.Itwas the sound of a dungeon, she thought—a place of misery and despair.

As she descended, the first thing she saw was the red glow of the camera drone, hovering midair like a malevolent insect, its single unblinking eye casting a bloody pall over the scene below.Itwas the heart of this violation—the silent witness to their shame.

Then she saw them—BurnandBright.

Her breath caught in her throat in a sharp, painful hitch.Brightwas on his knees beforeBurn.

It wasn't a posture of supplication or prayer—it was one of raw, desperate carnality.Burnstood with his legs braced apart, his powerful frame taut with tension, his head thrown back, the cords of his neck standing out in stark relief.Hishands were fisted at his sides, the knuckles white, but his hips were canted forward in an unmistakable offering.