“Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?”
—John Lennon
After Adam disappears around the corner and my breath catches up to me, my eyes drift to the basement door left hanging open in his wake. I finally stand and straighten my dress. He stalked off in such a hurry he didn’t check to make sure it closed behind him. His hard expression is still stuck at the forefront of my mind, bags beneath his eyes and a vein popping in his neck.
He’s slipping, and I ache to know why. I may not have signed up for Adam Matthews, but I’m here now. I’m here to serve him.
I want him to use me.
I want him to show me everything.
My heart skips when I take a step closer to the basement, torn between dreading going back down there and feeling compelled to. I tell myself it’s just my search for Frankie that pulls me in that direction, but I know better. And that’s what scares me.
The clicking of heels down the hall makes my decision for me. I slip inside, close the door behind me, and take a breath. Removing my shoes, I grip them in my sweaty hand and slowly make my way down the pitch-black staircase and to the hall. I’m almost to the same room as before when a large form blocks my path. I halt before we crash.
Lifting my eyes, I take a slow step back as my gaze meets Griff’s.
He inches closer, making me slink further back with each step he takes. I bump into the cold concrete wall, and I swallow. Shit. I played his game once. I don’t think I have it in me to do it again.
“There are cameras everywhere, Emmy,” he breathes against my neck. “Someone is always watching.” My breaths quicken when he slips a hand beneath my dress. “Something tells me your master wouldn’t like finding you here.”
I try to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. “Something tells me he wouldn’t like you touching me, either,” I manage.
He grunts and steps closer until his huge body crushes mine. My shoes slip from my grip, landing with a thump on the floor. His fingers pull on the string of my thong, and his wet mouth skims my ear. “I find that hard to believe. You think I don’t notice the way he avoids you? Not only would he let me fuck you, he’d sit back and watch. He doesn’t have the balls to touch you himself.”
When I bring my knee to his groin, he catches it, blocking the movement with his arm. A slap stings my cheek and whips my head to the side. “Slut. It’s my job to acquire people and get them where I want them,” he warns, his voice ragged. “I’d try to get comfortable if I were you.”
The burn of his slap trickles through my cheek and down my neck. In the back of my mind, a little voice tells me to keep my mouth shut. I can’t risk getting thrown out. Or worse. But sometimes, I can’t stop the words that bubble up my throat.
With my head still cocked to the side and my eyes narrowed on the wall, I whisper, “All this for a quick fuck? Are all your women sick of you?”
His sweaty palm clutches my neck, and my back drags along the wall as he lifts me off the ground. “You think this is about a quick fuck?” he spits. He leans in and slides his tongue up my cheek, where I still feel a sting. “This is so much more.”
I try to swallow, but it gets stuck in my throat when his grip tightens. My lungs squeeze, latching onto any thin streams of air they can. Suddenly he releases me. Just as I catch my fall and inhale, he grabs me again, then flips me so my back is against his chest. With one arm locked around my ribcage and the other around my hips, carrying me like I’m a doll, he marches us up the stairs.
I kick and struggle against his hold. “Get off me! Let me go—”
He clamps a hand around my mouth. “Shut the fuck up. Raife is waiting.”
A shiver crawls up my spine. Raife?
He takes us through the halls until recognition hits me. Adam’s room is just a few doors down. Which means Griff’s and Raife’s must be close, too. When we reach a room I’m unfamiliar with, he unlocks it, releases me, and shoves me inside.
I stumble forward before looking up and taking in my surroundings. My eyes widen.
The bedroom is identical to Adam’s—except for the four naked blondes sprawled on the bed, each of them toying with golden scarves between their fingers. They’re watching me, two of them wearing seductive smiles, the other two with curiosity—as though I’m the unusual piece in this picture.
Raife sits at the foot of the bed, his hands clasped on his lap and a smirk on his face. “Hello, lovely,” he purrs. “I’ve missed you.”
I tense when Griff moves behind me. His fingers brush my dress, and he pops each button open, one by one, snapping the thread and letting the buttons fall to the floor.
“What is this?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“This,” Raife murmurs, “is called show and tell.”
When I frown, his chuckle fills the room.
“Not for you, of course.” He eyes something to my left.
I follow his gaze to find a small, silver video recorder on his dresser, the little red light on it blinking. My brows crunch together. “Why are you—”
“Ah-ah,” he tsks, “that’s a reveal for later.”
My dress slips from my shoulders, and I shudder as it drops to my feet, leaving me in a black scarf, sheer black bra, and matching G-string.
“Come.” Raife pats the bed. “Sit.”
My throat closes as I flick my eyes from him to the women. It’s not them who intimidate me so much as Raife’s expression. I’ve seen him so rarely since Adam claimed me that I almost forgot how dangerous the devious glint in his eyes is.
My palms dampen, and I keep my feet rooted to the floor. “I’m under orders to only follow my master’s instructions.”
Something dark flits across his brown eyes. When he grins, the combination is pure madness. “In that case . . .” He unclasps his fingers and signals the women forward with a wave of his hand. “You don’t have to do a thing.”
The first woman to slink from the bed is the one who offered a glass of water when Raife was my master. Her hair is pulled back in a loose bun, and her brown eyes are locked on mine. When she takes a step toward me, stroking the extra scarf in her hands, the next girl follows. I know this one, too. Her hair long and billowing down her back, she’s the one who perked up at seeing my burn mark before proudly displaying her own. She smiles and winks as she walks forward, like she thinks she gets me. The other two I’ve seen only in passing, and they follow in a straight line, all four of their movements feline.
The woman with the bun reaches me first. She tilts her head, her eyes sliding down my body, then lifts her arms and gently pushes my hair off my shoulders. As she leans in and blows on my neck, the other three surround me.
Delicate fingers trail down my back, my stomach, then silk is teasingly curling around my waist. Nerves jump to my throat as sensations from the last time Raife had me restrained resurface. Cold unease spreads through my veins, mixed with a feeling I can’t shake, that I’m doing something wrong. I’m not supposed to be touched by them, by Raife, by Griff—I’m Adam’s.
I stumble forward when they urge me toward the bed, their bodies blocking every side of me.
“Shh, it’s okay,” one of them whispers.
“You need to trust them,” another says from behind.
Hands nudge my hips, my back, but I can’t see anything but blond hair and tanned skin, and my heart is pounding, and I just want Adam.
When I continue to hesitate, my feet dragging, Raife says, “Would you like Griff to assist you?”
Gritting my teeth, I finally relax against their shoves and allow them to usher me the rest of the way. Raife pats the bed again, now with triumph in his eyes.
I dart a glance at the blanket with a swallow, then look back at him. This isn’t like the other times, when I had to play along. I’m not his anymore. I don’t want to play.
“I’m not yours,” I whisper, my voice intentionally submissive in hopes of countering the disobedient words. I don’t know how far I can push before he’ll snap. “I shouldn’t be here.”
He drops his smile, his eyelids lowering. “I think we both know how true that is.” My breath hitches, and a cool tremor runs straight to my toes. “But as long as you’re in this house, you belong to me. Get. On. The. Bed.”
I can’t stop my fingers from trembling as I oblige, questions gripping me.
He knows I’m not meant to be here? What else does he know?
The other women join me one by one, forcing me further into the mattress then pushing me onto my back. They branch out, stopping to sit at different corners of the bed. Smooth silk wraps around my wrists and ankles, each of them tying their extra scarves around me, spreading my arms and legs, then looping the material through the bed frame to keep me in place.
My chest rises rapidly with the thumping of my heart as I find Raife’s calculated gaze. It’s strange, the way he almost reminds me of Adam. They’re both powerful, effortlessly seductive, and driven by darkness.
The core difference is: when I look into Adam’s eyes and he bares his soul, I see everything. I can touch his madness and his passion. I can taste his dark colors on my tongue then swallow them down to burn in secret with my own. But Raife, when I look into his eyes, I see nothing beyond the glints of mania. He’s so convoluted by the darkness waging inside him that any soul of his is buried past the point of no return.
Raife lets out a long sigh as he takes in my expression. “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin when it comes to women,” he mutters, frowning with feigned disappointment.
I narrow my eyes despite my racing pulse. Something tells me he already knows I’ve only been with men. Not that it matters. I suspect that has little to do with the real reason he brought me here.
“Well, I think you’ll enjoy it. Or at least my brother will. This is one of Griff’s favorite pastimes.”
Griff’s lips pull back in a partial smile, partial snarl. He stalks toward us, the bed creaking and leaning to one side when his bulky frame plops down. His beady black eyes drift along my body. “I usually do a lot more than watch.”
Raife glances at Griff, one corner of his lips lifting, and my stomach tightens. “All in due time, brother.”
All four of the women around me lean in at once. Hair tickles my neck, my stomach, my thighs. I tense in anticipation, wondering what Raife really has planned for me. He’s all about performance, and I have a feeling this is just Act One. Hands, fingers, lips—I don’t know who’s touching me where. Someone licks the curve of my neck, while another slips her hand beneath my panties.
Betrayal slithers around my chest and squeezes.
I watch through streams of golden hair as Griff traces every movement, every woman’s hand on my skin. His eyes darken with each second, and soon they’re bottomless pits sucking in the view.
My body stiffens when Raife stands. He vanishes from sight as the bubbly blonde with a burn appears inches from my face. A soft smile lifts her pink lips, and she runs her fingers down my cheek.
“It’s okay,” she coos. “We’re just here to relax you.”
I jump as something cold skims my left palm. Lifting my chin, I turn my head, trying to see past all the hair and bodies. When my gaze lands on the instrument above my hand, my throat goes dry.
A scalpel.
I glance at Raife, who watches me as he takes it away and carefully lines silver instruments side by side on a nightstand right beside the bed.
Scalpel. Scissors. Saw. Clamp. Forceps. Other things I don’t know the names of. Lastly, a knife.
My breath comes out ragged, fear spiking my voice. “Wh-what are you d-doing?”
He leans toward me, pushing someone else’s hair from my face as he does. “Don’t you remember?” His lips touch my ear, and I tremble. “Show and tell. Now smile. You’re on camera.”
He moves back slightly and locks his gaze on mine. Deadly anticipation stirs in his eyes, something that tells me he’s just getting started.
I don’t think I’m ready for Act Two.