Nightfall (Devil’s Night Book 4)
Nightfall: Chapter 19

Present

Three knocks hit the door, and I popped my head up, slamming the drawer closed in my bedroom.

I’d already been awake for twenty minutes, scouring the closet and drawers, but there were no clothes in here. And the temperature outside was dropping by the day.

Walking to the door, I leaned my ear in. “Who is it?”

The sun was just rising, although the clouds were brewing a storm. I thought I was the only one up this early.

“It’s Rory.”

My heart stopped for a second, and I straightened, staring at the handle.

What did he want?

“Thought you needed a new shirt,” he called out. “And maybe some pants.”

I glanced down at the boxer shorts and button-down I was swimming in, because Will had ripped all the buttons off of my other shirt last night. I still had pants, but I shouldn’t turn down clothes. They were what I was on the hunt for right now, after all.

I hesitated a moment and then pulled the chair away from the door and opened it. Rory stood there—a towel wrapped around his waist and hair disheveled with a stack of clothes in his fist.

He stared at me, unblinking, and heat coursed under my skin, remembering last night and what went down in the drawing room. I’d been so angry after Will left, I’d thrown a vase, fixed my clothes, and stormed out of there, more aggravated that I wanted to go ask him to finish, and I almost did. Being with him was just as good as that night on the bus, and it took every last drop of pride to drag my ass into a cold shower before I stooped to begging him for sex.

God, how I would’ve loved to never be reminded of how good he felt.

I snatched the clothes from Rory.

“Cut them if you want,” he told me, gesturing to the black pants. “They’re probably too long for you.”

“Thanks.”

I stood there, forcing myself to make eye contact, and he made no move to leave as he watched me.

The silence stretched between us.

“I’m going to head into the steam room for a bit, and then Micah and I are going hunting today,” he said, clearing his throat. “We might take Will. I suggest you come with us or stay in here with the door secured.”

It would only be Aydin and Taylor in the house with me? Not ideal, but with less eyes, I could explore.

And siphon supplies, maybe.

“I’ll stay,” I replied. “How long will you be gone?”

“Hours.” He looked me up and down. “If you need food, get it now.”

I nodded, and he just kept standing there. His pale eyes had this midnight blue circle around the pupil that made his stare pierce and made the hair on my arms rise.

I swallowed. “So, are you… like a…like a serial killer, then?”

He grinned. “Are you afraid?”

“Are you going to tell me I shouldn’t be?”

He shook his head. “No.”

He walked away without elaborating, and I watched him for a moment before diving back into my room and shutting the door, securing the chair underneath the knob again.

Ugh. I had felt something off about him, and while I still didn’t feel like he was evil, he was definitely capable of a lot. He premeditated the murders of seven people. It sounded like there was more to the story, but if he could do it once, he could do it again.

Taylor was right about that. They were all here for a reason, and none of them were my friends.

I slipped off the shirt and boxers I’d slept in, and pulled on one of his white T-shirts before cutting his black pants at the knee and pulling them on, too. I rolled them at the waist so they wouldn’t fall down, and slid on my sneakers, double-knotting them.

Cleaning my glasses, I slipped them on my face and ran a comb through my hair before brushing my teeth. I wasn’t sure where the soaps, shampoos, and hygiene shit came from, but it was in here when I came into the room last night, still packaged and brand new. I wished whoever got me this stuff had cared to supply me with some underwear and another bra.

As soon as Micah and Rory left later, I’d sneak into their room and steal a hoodie.

Leaving the room, I looked around me, rain starting to hit the windows as the gray sky loomed outside, and I jogged down the stairs, heading into the kitchen.

I had bread, cheese, a couple pieces of fruit, and some granola. I’d figure out how to get it out of the kitchen cabinet I had it stored in, but I also needed water.

Approaching the kitchen, I peered inside, seeing it dark, lit only by the light over the stove as I headed around the island, toward the back door, and keeping my eyes peeled around me.

I opened the cabinet and reached behind the stew pot, feeling the cheesecloth bundle still safe and sound.

I smiled.

Now for some water. I took an apple out of the basket on the counter and started eating it as I searched the cabinets for some kind of canteen or water bottle, finally replaceing some stainless steel tumblers with lids.

I pulled one out and filled it, quickly storing it with the food. I’d test the waters in a bit and see if I could make it to the basement undetected with the bundle. I’d store it down there to grab if I needed to escape or hide.

Slipping the bottle behind the pot, I hit the wall and paused, the apple pinched between my teeth.

That was weird.

I pawed the back panel, feeling that it completely covered the wall, and pulled my arm out, diving into the next cabinet to check its backing.

Same thing.

These cabinets weren’t as deep as they should be. I closed both and stood up, putting my hands on my hips. The countertop was at least six inches less in width than the other countertop on the north wall where the stove was. Heading left, I opened up the kitchen door to the terrace and looked outside.

The house extended at least four feet beyond the end of the wall of cupboards.

The hair on the back of my next stood up, and I couldn’t hold back the smile that peeked out as realization dawned.

Extra depth in the walls was required to allot space for wiring, plumbing, insulation… But not four feet.

This house had passages.

Holy shit. Did they know?

I closed the door and turned to the wall, behind which should be a secret tunnel and possibly stairs, leading up or down. Who knew where the passages went, but I wanted to replace out. If they were clueless, it would be a good place to hide, and it was certainly one way that security could keep tabs on the people here without being detected.

And now was the time to replace out. Aydin and Taylor might still be in bed. The others were on their way out to hunt soon.

I backed up and turned in a circle, seeing the house like I hadn’t before. What if the tunnels led off the grounds? To a crew housed closer to here than the guys thought? I could get away undetected. The possibilities were endless. I needed to explore.

I passed the stove, sink, and the kitchen window, seeing the solarium next to the house. There was a garden shed on the other side of it. If it had tools—a screwdriver, at least—I could pry panels open, assuming I couldn’t replace the trigger designed to open them in the first place. In movies, it was always a book that you’d tilt to get the door to open, but it was more often some kind of lock mechanism or lever.

Dammit. How had I not seen this?

Opening the back door again, I stepped outside and crossed the terrace, droplets wetting my legs and arms as I dashed across the stone for the greenhouse.

Opening the door, I hurried inside and took off my glasses, cleaning the water off with my shirt.

A wave of warmth instantly hit my chilled skin as I inhaled the scent of ferns, soil, and wood, the sudden increase in humidity blanketing me.

I slipped my glasses back on and looked around, hearing the drops tap, tap, tap, against the glass panels that made up the roof and walls, as well as a light classical tune coming from somewhere deeper in the greenhouse.

I slowed, gazing all around at the ancient conservatory, the white paint of the metal window frames chipped and rusted. I stepped across the small white tiles, the grout black and filthy, and a spiral staircase leading to a catwalk that creaked when it thundered outside.

The plant life was in beautiful form, though. Green, thick, lush… Trees reached up to the roof, palms stretching wide as too many plants to name adorned the landscapes and beds around the walkway. This place was well-loved.

Did the crew also tend to this when they came in? Seemed like pointless work when these little shits wouldn’t give a damn.

Water hit me from above, and I tipped my head back, seeing an open panel of glass, the rusty chain severed and dangling as rain poured in.

That would need to be fixed soon. With the temperature dropping, it would be impossible to maintain the heat needed in here.

I strolled through the greenhouse, zero clue what most of these plants were called, but it felt like another world. Not cold and dark—not dangerous—like Blackchurch. It was calm and decadent, like an island somewhere where the heat and scent got under your skin and into your head.

Like waking up from a nightmare. Or opening your eyes to presents and cake. I liked it.

The music hit my ears again, and I looked ahead, spotted Aydin, and stopped.

He sat in a pair of black pants and a white T-shirt like me, but his was filthy with dirt smudges as he leaned over the plant bed and cut something. His hair, usually slicked back, laid dry and haphazardly over his forehead and temples, and a light sheen of sweat covered his forearms.

I stared at him, unable to move, because I couldn’t remember why I’d come in here, but I knew it was a secret. I hadn’t wanted to run into anyone. I thought he was still asleep.

He glanced over, dropping whatever he’d cut into the bowl and reached over, cutting some more.

I shifted on my feet, ready to turn around. I couldn’t go to the shed now.

But instead, he called me over. “Come here.”

I looked up at him again, seeing him concentrate on his task, and I walked over to his side, doing as he said.

He picked a strawberry out of the bowl and handed it to me, leaves, stem, and all.

I shot him a suspicious look, but I took it. He’d just cut it. It was probably fine.

Sticking it between my teeth, I bit into the small thing, pressing the chunk between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, sucking on the juice. My mouth exploded, savoring the flavor.

I nodded, swallowing and nibbling on the rest.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s… sweet.”

It was surprising.

“Mmm…” he agreed, returning to his work. “Yes.”

I looked at the remnants, knowing that real strawberries were this small. His tiny garden had tomatoes, basil, peppers, lettuce… I wouldn’t think he’d be into this, but I guess now I knew who was taking care of the greenhouse.

“Strawberries used to be sweet when I was young,” I said. “I don’t know. They’re sour all the time now.”

“Commercial strawberries the last couple of decades are bred to be big and beautiful, but that’s it,” he said. “They taste bad. I can barely eat any produce in the States.”

I looked down at him. “You’re not from here?”

He turned his eyes on me, cocking an eyebrow.

“The US, I mean.”

Okay, yes. I assumed we were in the States, but we might not be.

He returned to his task. “I was born in Turkey,” he told me. “My family relocated when I was fifteen.”

So he was an immigrant. Was it hard for him, being different in school? Trying to fit in?

“Did you assimilate quickly?” I asked.

“Assuming I had any ease assimilating to anything to begin with?” he joked, amusement in his eyes.

I couldn’t help it. I smiled.

I could relate.

I was the only kid in school who didn’t celebrate Christmas. Who didn’t take part in the annual winter pageants or do Secret Santa on the swim team.

But if I could’ve faked it, I wouldn’t have. It wasn’t my style to fit in. Screw ’em.

“Did you assimilate to her?” I broached, almost whispering.

The woman he talked about at the pool showers. The one made for him.

He faltered and then stilled, a faraway look crossing his eyes.

I swallowed, but I smiled to myself. I’d found his weak spot.

“Still hearing noises?” he asked, ignoring my question.

“No.”

But I might know where they were coming from now.

I glanced at the phonograph near the windows, still playing Schubert.

“Why are you roaming?” he asked me.

I shot him a look, an excuse lost on my tongue.

But then I remembered.

“I, uh… I saw the garden shed,” I told him. “I thought I’d look for tools. Maybe a ladder. That panel is off its hinges.”

I pointed to the roof and the broken panel of glass.

But he didn’t look, just kept working as he cut and cleared weeds. “Come here,” he said and held out his arm, inviting me in.

I reared back a little, but then…something pushed me forward.

I inched in, and he circled my waist, pulling me down into his lap.

I protested, trying to stand back up, but he took my hands in his and pushed them forward, palms down into the plant bed and sliding them underneath the soil.

What the hell was he doing?

Turning my head, I looked at him as he squeezed my wrists, keeping my hands in the dirt. What…?

“What do you feel?” he asked.

I hesitated, speechless. What did he mean, ‘what do I feel’?

“Soil,” I said.

Obviously.

He cocked his head, looking unimpressed.

Did he really have to hold my hands down?

Sighing, I wiggled my fingers a little, indulging this as the crisp feel coated my skin.

Almost like planting your face in a fresh pillow.

“Cool earth,” I finally told him. “It’s soft with water. Fluffy. Like flour, almost.” I looked over at him, his nose inches from mine. “Thick but…clean between my fingers.”

He released me, but I stayed there and watched him pick up a small glass pitcher, pouring water over the soil covering my hands.

Ice hit my pores as the fluff turned to goo.

“And now?” he pressed.

“Weight,” I replied. “It feels heavy. Muddy. Sticky.” I stared off, almost grossed out by it. “It’s suffocating. Like I’m buried.”

He nodded. “There’s not much that’s bad for you, done in moderation. Some water is necessary for plants to thrive. Too much kills them.”

Holding my eyes, he gripped my wrists again, pinning me to the dirt.

“You want tools?” he asked. “To fix… hinges?”

I stared at him, not liking the gleam in his eyes.

“You came out here to get tools for broken hinges you didn’t see until you… came out here.” He stared at me, the ghost of a smile crossing his face. “You can have all the tools you like, Emory. In moderation.”

I swallowed the golf ball in my throat as he continued to hold my hands and my eyes.

He knew I was full of shit.

He knew it the moment I walked out here. Did he know about my stash?

I clenched my teeth, keeping my nerves in check, but he cocked his head, eyeing me curiously.

“Did you grow up with an addict?” he asked.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I can usually spot liars fairly easily. They keep their explanations vague, fidget, break eye contact… You’ve had practice.”

“I’m not lying about why I need the tools.”

“You are,” he retorted calmly. “But that’s okay. I like being played with. In moderation.”

Chills spread over my skin, and my pulse kicked up a notch in my chest, but then… something brushed the tip of my finger underneath the soil.

I jerked. “What was that?”

But he held me down, warning me, “I wouldn’t move.”

What?

Something slithered over my fingers under the dirt, and I froze, unable to breathe.

I pulled against his hold, but he pushed me back in as his piercing gaze pinned me, the smooth body under the soil thick and never-ending.

It was long. It wasn’t a worm.

I gulped, whispering. “Is that a snake?”

“One of them.”

One of them? I darted my eyes around the plant bed, trying to spot others. There was a clear, plastic wall around the garden, the panel in front of us removed so Aydin could work.

“Who was the addict in your family?”

“Huh?”

“Look at me, Emory,” he said.

I looked up at him, worry knitting my brow. I tried to slide my hands out, but he held firm. Shit.

Where was Will?

“Who conditioned you to lie so well?” he asked, staring into my eyes and keeping his voice calm and steady.

“He…” I trailed off as the snake, or whatever it was, stopped over my hand, and I felt it shift or…start to coil. Another lump lodged in my throat. “Aydin…”

“Who?” He tightened his hold on my wrists.

“He…” I breathed hard. “He wasn’t an addict. My brother had a temper,” I explained.

Fuck, where was Will? Tears sprang to my eyes.

“And he got physical with you?” Aydin asked.

A flicker of something hit my pinky—again and again. Its tongue?

“Oh, my God,” I gasped. “Please.”

Let me go.

“Be still,” he said. “Look at me.”

I darted my eyes to his again.

“Like a rock,” he instructed. “You’re part of her terrain. She won’t notice you unless you want her to. Like a rock, Emory.”

“Aydin…”

“Don’t move,” he chided again.

I closed my eyes, trapped. Feeling it there. Unable to run. Any sudden movement, and… God, get it off me. Please.

“It reminds you of him, doesn’t it?” Aydin asked. “Your brother.”

What?

“Waiting for the danger to hit,” he continued. “Knowing it was coming.”

I kept my eyes closed, trying to drown it out, but my knees started shaking, and I wanted to hit him. My arms were charged, the anger there, like before, but I couldn’t do anything with it. Not yet. I couldn’t move.

“Unable to live, damn near wetting your pants and waiting for the inevitable as it got closer and closer to you.”

Shut up. He didn’t know me.

“Would you get sick right before you knew he was coming home?” he asked. “Run to the bathroom and vomit, maybe?”

I opened my eyes, meeting his through the blur.

Needles pricked my throat, remembering. “The kitchen sink,” I told him. “It was closer than the bathroom. I was usually making dinner.”

He nodded, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

The snake’s head slid over my hand again, grinding the dirt into my skin.

“Is it poisonous?” I asked.

“Something is only poisonous if you eat it,” he retorted. “Organisms that bite and inject you with poison are described as venomous.”

Jesus, fuck. “Is it venomous, then?”

“They’re black racers,” he pointed out, as if that meant anything to me. “What if I said it’s venomous, but I have anti-venom?”

“Let me go.”

“What if I said it’s not venomous, but it can bite?”

I gritted my teeth, the snake’s head nudging between my fingers. What the fuck? Why wasn’t it moving on?

“What if I said it can’t bite, only constrict?” he asked instead.

“What are you doing?”

“Or maybe it’s not harmful at all,” he told me, “but I might put some in your bed tonight? Would you fear them any less?”

“Aydin…” I started to pull at my arms.

He barked, “If you move, she’ll strike.” He glared at me. “Own it, Emory. Own this moment.”

What? I shook my head, my thighs tense as I got ready to bolt and fight and run, but…

“Don’t run,” he told me, reading my mind. “Don’t cry. Don’t get angry. Just let go.”

N…no. What…? The dirt shifted a few feet away, and I whimpered. Was that another one?

But he yelled, “Let go!”

I startled, resisting the urge to curl my fingers into the dirt.

“Look at me,” he said. “Look into my eyes.”

I snapped my gaze to his. Please…

“Look at me,” he urged again. “Hold my eyes. Don’t fight. Don’t rage. Don’t scream. Don’t give him your fear.”

I panted, staring into his brown eyes, tunneling deeper into the flecks of honey and amber.

“I am here,” he recited. “This is it, and I am not scared.”

I exhaled, sucking in another breath but starting to calm.

“I am not scared,” he repeated. “I am the eye of the storm. The calm in the madness.”

I blew out a breath, drawing in another, slower.

“The quiet in the chaos. The patience for my moment.”

My hand started to melt into the dirt, the snake shrinking and my heart starting to slow down.

We didn’t blink.

“I am the eye of the storm,” he murmured, and I was transfixed. “He did not happen to you, Emory. You expected it. It was supposed to happen. It was all part of the plan. You knew it was coming.”

I gazed into his eyes, his voice surrounding me like music as cool calmness swept through my blood.

“Nothing is ever a surprise,” he said. “Always act as if you knew it was coming the whole time. Pretend it was part of the plan. You move with the storm, Emory. Calm, quiet, patient, and then… Then you happen to him.”

My chest rose and fell in steady breaths as I whispered, “I happen to him.”

“He may hit you again,” he breathed out, “but he will never hurt you. You will smile, and then…”

“I will happen to him,” I whispered.

Warmth coursed over my body, a curtain lifted, and my lungs opened, steel coating my skin and knives sprouting from my nails.

The racer slithered over my finger and up to the surface of the soil, moving away into the other plants, and I looked down, seeing my palms still buried, but Aydin was no longer holding me.

When had he let go?

Taking them out, I looked at him, seeing him give me a small smile. Then, he leaned over and grabbed the black snake, still fisting its body and staring at me as the reptile hissed, snapped back around, and struck the back of his hand, sinking its fangs into him.

Aydin released it, and I watched as he sucked the two red punctures into his mouth and spit the blood into the plant bed.

“Like nearly all suffering,” he told me, “it bites, but you live.”

Sweat cooled on my skin, and my head was in the clouds, a tremendous weight I thought I’d always feel suddenly gone.

Leaning in, Aydin kissed my temple, and I didn’t even consider pulling away. His lips were warm and gentle—almost like a…

Like a father.

“You’re Lilith,” he whispered against my skin. “You can’t be burned if you’re the flame.”

Pulling back, he looked down into my eyes, and I didn’t want to smile. He wasn’t off the hook for that scare, but I walked in here with something that I was going to leave without. Everything felt stronger and lighter.

How the hell did he do that?

Lilith… His words drifted through my head. Was he Jewish? She was in our folklore. Adam’s first wife and cast out of the Garden of Eden, because she refused to be subservient.

She was dark and light. She wasn’t afraid to fall or to burn too bright.

She was a flame.

Something shifted off to my right, and we both turned our heads, seeing Will standing just inside the room.

He wore gray sweatpants, hanging low on his hips, and nothing else as his hair stuck up all over the place in the most adorable way.

My heart instantly ached at the anger always in his eyes, but I was ready to do something about it now.

His gaze shot from Aydin to me in his lap, the sharpness in his scowl suddenly turning flat, like he didn’t care. He just stood there, unmoving, and I rose from the seat, remembering that night on the dance floor at Homecoming.

Everyone had stared at us because we didn’t belong together, but we felt nothing other than the ache of the agonizing inch between us, and suddenly Aydin wasn’t even in the room.

“Micah and Rory gone hunting?” Aydin asked, leaning back in his seat.

Will nodded, refusing to look at me now. “I told Taylor to go with them.”

Aydin chuckled under his breath, looking at Will over his shoulder. “Just the three of us, then,” he mused, glancing at me. “You kids want to play in the pool?”

I gazed at Will, ignoring Aydin’s thinly veiled request that I take off my clothes, but then Will spoke up.

“Just take her,” he said. “I’ve had her.”

I stared at him, the challenge clear, but while I would’ve mouthed off or walked out ten minutes ago, I felt roots sprout from the bottoms of my shoes, keeping me steady.

An oak.

The eye of the storm.

Aydin laughed to himself and rose from the chair, replacing the panel that kept the snakes confined, and ruffling my hair as he headed out of the room. “You know where to replace me,” he called out, “when you’re ready for the next level, Miss Scott.”

He left and Will looked at me, shaking his head. He wouldn’t even stop me if I jumped on every dick in this house right now.

He didn’t care, because he hated me.

“Nothing was going on,” I told him.

“I don’t care,” he shot back. “And you wouldn’t care if I did.”

Without another word, he twisted around and walked away.

My lungs constricted. “Godzilla,” I called out, taking a step forward.

He stopped. Turning back around, he narrowed his hard eyes. “What?”

I took another step, tempted to fidget or look away or shrink like it was always in my nature to do when I was scared shitless, but I kept my gaze locked on him.

No matter how much it hurt.

None of what’s happening right now is a surprise. I knew it was coming. Handle it.

“You, um…” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You missed a Godzilla movie since you’ve been gone. King of the Monsters,” I told him. “It was pretty decent, except for the plot.”

He remained still, eyeing me suspiciously.

I took another step.

He could walk out any second, but I wouldn’t let him. Stay.

“Good cinematography and action sequences,” I said. “You get to see Mothra, too.”

The sprinklers overhead sprouted to life, but I didn’t look away as warm rain fell over the trees, plants, and garden, wetting my clothes.

I removed my glasses, setting them on the edge of another tree bed.

“I bought Milk Duds and Twizzlers.” I chuckled under my breath. “I don’t know why because I was on my own, and I didn’t need all that candy, but I didn’t eat the Milk Duds.” I swallowed, staring deep into his eyes. “I couldn’t help but think… ‘Will would love this.’”

My eyes stung, but I blinked away the tears, knowing exactly why I bought the Milk Duds. They were Will’s.

Water cascaded down his bare chest, and I breathed steadily, unwavering no matter how hard my heart pounded.

“I kept wondering what you’d say about the movie,” I told him. “And what you’d like about it.”

His eyes stayed on mine as I inched forward, water dripping down his mouth and glistening on his skin.

Please stay.

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down the closer I got, and he dropped his eyes, breathing harder.

“Mothra?” he murmured.

“And King Ghidorah, too.” I nodded. “All the titans. The visual effects were amazing.”

Stepping up to him, I stopped as my shirt grazed his chest. Heat pooled in my belly, feeling him so close.

“They’re releasing Godzilla vs. Kong soon,” I told him, kicking off my shoes.

His chest rose and fell in front of me, and I gazed at all the skin my fingers hummed to touch. I balled my fists.

“They’re both heroes,” he replied. “The ending will be ambiguous, Emory.”

“No.” I shook my head, pulling my shirt off and dropping it to the ground. “The directors have stated there will be a clear winner.”

He stared at my body, his breathing growing ragged. “What the fuck?” he griped. “Fucking writers.”

My clit throbbed, and I stared at his mouth, damn near tasting him and wanting to climb him so damn bad.

“So it’ll be Kong,” I stated, unbuttoning Rory’s pants around my waist. “It’s more hopeful for the underdog to win.”

He watched me, unblinking. “Japan will ban the film if Godzilla doesn’t win.”

“I guess he could win,” I told him, dropping the pants to the floor as rain hit my breasts, arms, and back. “With Godzilla’s arsenal, and the fact that he can fight on land and at sea…”

“And in the comic books, he battles God and the devil, for crying out loud,” he said. “What the hell’s Kong ever done?”

I leaned up on my tiptoes, our lips inches from each other. “Godzilla now also emits an omnidirectional blast.”

“He does?”

I nodded. “You missed it.”

Running my fingertips up his chest, I tried to swallow, but my mouth was too dry.

“Told you,” he said. “How’s Kong going to survive a molecular level attack?”

I pressed my body to his, my hard, little nipples aching against his heat.

He shook a little underneath my hands, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I curled my fists again, my body boiling, and I didn’t care that I wanted to squeeze the life out of him half the time—I wanted in his bed.

But I wasn’t asking for anything. I was taking it.

My heart damn near in my throat, I pushed him down into the chair to my left and hovered over his lips as I slid my hand up his chest.

He laughed, gripping the arms of the chair. “You want it?” he taunted. “You’re not getting it.”

I grazed my lips across his cheek, over his jaw, and down his neck, the hunger making my clit throb so hard I had to hold back a whimper as the rain fell all over my naked body.

“You don’t have to do a thing,” I whispered over his skin. “In fact…”

I slid my hand inside his pants and dived for his cock, fisting the hard muscle.

He gasped, his eyes going wide.

“You don’t even have to move,” I told him, pumping him slow and tight. “Stay right here, because I’m going to drain you dry.”

I squeezed his neck, gentle but possessive before sliding to my knees and drawing my claws down his chest and then his thighs.

He was mine. Straightening my back, I felt his eyes on my breasts as I untied the drawstring and pulled down his pants, just enough so I could take him out.

Water sprayed my hair, my chest, his stomach, and his face as he stared down at me, a cross between anger and excitement in his eyes.

But he wasn’t stopping me.

Fisting his cock, I stroked it as I kissed and licked his stomach, running my free hand around his waist, over his back, and up his chest. I nibbled and bit, dragging his skin out with my teeth before sucking it into my mouth, his body caving under me with every breath.

“Fuck,” he whispered, groaning.

Coming back down, I cast him a quick look, seeing his white knuckles as he gripped the arms of the chair. Holding his eyes, I moved the head of his dick to the opening of my mouth, not slipping it in just yet as I teased him.

I flicked my tongue, tasting his heat as his eyes softened and need flashed across his face.

“Emmy,” he panted.

And my heart started to shatter, hearing a younger, happier Will Grayson begging me to let him hold me again.

I closed my eyes and slid him into my mouth, pushing my lips down his shaft until the tip touched the back of my throat.

He sucked in air through his teeth, his fingers sliding into my hair and holding my head as he moaned.

I held him there, relaxing my throat and trying to take him all in, but I was hungry and I wanted to suck. Moving up and down, I drew him out slow and then glided my mouth back down his cock, taking him again.

His fingers fisted my hair, the hard muscle in my mouth getting stiffer. I dragged my tongue up and down his shaft, licking the veins under his skin and sucking the sweet drip off his tip.

He growled, glaring down at me. “Taking advantage of a man who’s been in prison is low. Really low.”

“You’re not at Blackchurch,” I whispered, kissing the length of his cock. “We’re at the lock-in, and we snuck off, so I could kiss you. Down here.”

He groaned, letting his head fall back and his eyes close, the fantasy hopefully taking over. Taking him back before I hurt him. Before he hurt me. Before all the shit and all the years…

I moved faster, sucking him harder and tighter, whimpering at his size trying to push down my throat as his hips started thrusting up to meet me.

“Will,” I begged, the slickness between my legs growing.

Slipping a hand between my legs, I swirled the wetness around my clit, throbbing and aching for him as I brought my fingers back out.

I swirled my wet fingers around his tip, watching him watch me and holding his eyes as I sucked him back into my mouth and licked myself off of him. His piercing eyes caught fire as I licked off the water and covered him in warmth.

But suddenly, he grabbed my arms and pulled me up.

What?

He glared into my eyes for a moment before he spun me around and planted me in his lap.

He wrapped an arm around me, breathing into my neck and holding me close. “What else we gonna do?” he panted. “Before a teacher comes.”

His dick pressed into my ass, and he grabbed my pussy, sticking a finger deep inside, and then two.

I gasped as he cupped my breast, sliding my nipple in and out between his fingers.

“Huh, little Emmy?” he taunted.

I closed my eyes, the water raining down on us in the hothouse as I pictured all the fun we could’ve had if I’d just dived in all those years ago.

God, I wanted him. Fuck.

Pulling away, I stood up and faced him, watching him stroke his cock, and look at me.

I didn’t wait another second. I climbed on top of him, crashing my mouth to his and straddling him as I ate up his lips and clutched his throat.

Mine.

He jerked his mouth away, smirking like the cat that ate the canary, but I didn’t care, because I wanted to give him this.

He positioned himself under me, crowning my entrance, and I whimpered already at the anticipation as I nibbled his jaw.

I slid down, burying him inside me.

I stretched and gasped, and he hit deep before I raised back up, coating him in my wetness before sliding back down on him and sheathing him to the hilt.

“Ah,” he groaned, squeezing my ass in both hands.

I stilled, staying there and feeling the stretch and fullness.

I kissed his cheek, watching his face and his closed eyes as he let me trail my mouth over his temple and his forehead and to the corner of his lips, leaving little kisses. Sliding my hand through his hair, I dipped down to his neck, tasting the water on his hot skin as tingles spread everywhere at the memory of his smell.

Sitting back, I stared at him as I started to move slowly, arching my back and rolling my hips. I slid him out and thrust back onto him, fucking him slowly at first. He opened his eyes and gripped my hips, his eyes trailing all over as he watched my body move on top of him.

Diving forward, he sucked my breast into his mouth, and I dug my nails into his shoulders, letting my head fall back as the wave of euphoria coursed over me.

“You fucked me up,” he growled, pulling my nipple through his teeth.

“And you fucked up,” I argued, tipping my head back up, the water running down my face as he nibbled one breast and moved on to the other.

Part of all this shit was my fault, but not all of it.

I rolled my hips again and again, my breathing getting shallower as the pleasure built.

“I want to kiss you,” I whispered. “On the lips.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” he teased.

I panted, leaning back up and bouncing up and down on him as I held him close. “Because,” I whispered over his mouth. “Because I want to be your girl.”

He circled my waist with both arms like a steel band, stopping me. “And you remember what that means?”

I gazed down at him, trying to hide my smile as I remembered everything he wanted.

Me, coming home to him every night.

Me, at his table and warming his bed.

Me, making him a daddy.

I nodded.

“Say it,” he ordered.

I swallowed, the excitement coursing through my veins as I whispered, “It means you come inside me.”

We didn’t have condoms here.

He grinned and stood up, taking me with him as he walked to the tree bed behind us, dropped down, and pushed me onto the soil. Rising back up, he flipped me over, and I gasped, whimpering as realization dawned.

I moaned, my clit pulsing like a jackhammer as he came down on my ass, forced my knee out, and thrust back inside my pussy, going at me hard and fast.

“Will…” I cried.

He wrapped a hand around my neck and whispered against my cheek, “Say it again.”

He hit me deep, in and out, in and out, again and again, and I squeezed my eyes shut, taking it. “It means you come inside me.”

“You want that?”

“Yeah.”

The soil ground into my body, and finally, he twisted my head toward him, sinking his mouth into mine and kissing me deep, stealing my breath away.

His tongue dipped in and made my heart sink down to my toes. I whimpered.

“My little Em,” he breathed out, slipping a hand underneath me and palming my tit. “My little Em likes her little secrets. Little nerd by day who likes it a little hard at night.”

“Yeah,” I chanted. “Yes.”

My pussy tightened and constricted, and I pressed my hands into the soil, backing up into him, craving it.

My hair stuck to my back as I arched it, and all I could think about was all the time we’d lost in high school. Of how this was it, and I should’ve known it. I should’ve snuck out with him and done this with him every single chance we got, because there was nothing that I was protecting myself from that wasn’t already happening at home. I shouldn’t have let the fear stop me.

The orgasm started to build, and I cried out as he thrust his cock inside me again and again, fucking me on the dirt and every inch of my skin feeling all of this.

He grunted, and I could tell he was getting close. “Say it again,” he said.

“Come inside me,” I whimpered, feeling it coming. “Oh, God.”

“Again.”

“Come inside me, Will,” I begged. “Please.”

He bottomed out, and I exploded, the orgasm shaking my entire body as the world spun under me, and he thrust again and again, harder and harder, finally spilling inside of me as he squeezed my breast and moaned.

I cried out, every muscle burning. The orgasm wracked through me, my pussy squeezing around his cock, and he flipped over, collapsing onto the ground next to me.

“Fuck,” he panted.

I closed my eyes, lying my head down and unable to swallow because my mouth was so dry. I really hoped the snakes were confined to the garden and not here.

But I couldn’t muster a muscle to care.

Aydin probably watched us from somewhere, too. The guys could’ve come back early for whatever reason, but I didn’t give a shit. I wanted a shower, and I wanted sleep, and I wanted both of them with Will.

But without another touch or kiss, he rose from the dirt and pulled up his soaked sweats, tying them closed.

I turned over and sat up, watching him as he walked over and retrieved my drenched clothes from the floor.

He tossed them to me. “Go piss,” he said. “And hurry up.”

I sat there, my eyes narrowing but my chin trembling a little. I clenched my jaw to stop it.

The eye of the storm…

I forced the lump down my throat. “That’s an old wives’ tale,” I told him, rising and starting to dress. “I’m on the shot, so don’t worry.”

Asshole.

Not that I was ready for any kids right now, anyway, but he wasn’t telling me that because he didn’t want them. He was telling me that because he didn’t want them with me.

It was just sex talk.

I swallowed through the needles in my throat, not looking up again until he’d walked out, leaving me in the wet dirt alone.

I rose to my feet and pulled on my glasses, cut-off pants, and T-shirt, and then I picked up my shoes and carried them through the quiet house and back up to my bedroom.

I secured the door, lost in my head as I showered and washed the dirt from my hair, still feeling him inside me.

I’d show him. I was strong, and I wouldn’t beg for anything.

I’d get out of here and live and keep my damn chin up.

The calm in the madness. The quiet in the chaos. The patience for my moment.

I dried my hair and wrapped the towel around me, heading into my dark bedroom and collapsing onto the bed.

I closed my eyes, hearing the rain outside and trying to concentrate on the next step of my escape plan.

A little more food, a hoodie, and I still needed some kind of tool from the shed. It would make a good weapon, too, if needed.

A draft hit me, and I rubbed my eyes with my fingers, so tired all of a sudden.

But I couldn’t go to sleep. Opening my eyes, I spotted a dark form looming at the side of my bed, and I sucked in a quick breath.

What the hell?

But before I could shoot up and away, she spoke.

“You let them watch while he ate you out last night?” she asked.

And then the lamp on the nightstand turned on, and I looked up at her, hair a little shorter than the last time I’d seen her and dressed like a cat burglar, complete with a black beanie on her head.

“Girl,” she cooed, smiling with approval. “I knew you had it in you.”

I stopped breathing, my eyes going wide. “Alex?”

She threw up her hands, striking a pose, and I popped up, grabbed her, and pulled her into a hug as we collapsed back to the bed.

Oh, my God. “What are you doing here?” I cried.

She clamped a hand over my mouth, quieting me as she shook with a laugh. “Missed you, too, little stick,” she whispered.

My body shook with a quiet laugh, and I squeezed her so tight she grunted.