Page 16 of A Light in the Darkness
When Austin pulls me into his room, I kick the door shut behind me and fall into him, laughing louder as he catches me against his bare chest. I glance up at him without moving, finding him grinning down at me. “You okay?”
A shiver that only has a little to do with the cold passes through me, and I nod as he turns to open a drawer of his dresser. When he turns back, he’s passing me another shirt. “That one looks great on you, but I thought you may want a dry one now.”
“You know me so well,” I quip, taking the top and holding it out to appraise it. It’s just another button-up, but it’s even softer than the one currently plastered against my skin.
“I have a spare towel somewhere.” Austin says, glancing around the room like the towel will just materialize.
“It’s fine.” I motion with my finger for him to turn around, and he does it without complaint, turning to face the door as I strip the soaked garment off and quickly replace it with the dry one. “Almost done,” I assure him as I get to the last two buttons, whichseem trickier to get in place than the four ahead of it. More likely, the vodka from that last drink is hitting hard, because I’m suddenly woozy, swaying on my feet.
I give up the fight and sit on the edge of his bed. “All good,” I tell him, giving him permission to join me. I didn’t realize he changed out of his swim trunks when he came to get us our drinks, but I notice as he approaches me that he’s wearing a dry pair of board shorts that hit right above his knee. I can see the faint outline of his cock, still nestled in wet briefs beneath them.
“Is the game over?” I ask, unable to take my eyes from him as he draws closer still, stepping right in front of me and trapping me between his knees. His stomach is all muscle and it’s lined up with my face. I look up at him through my lashes, blinking to try and settle the two versions of him back into one, and then reach out to pull him with me as I fall back to his bed.
Austin’s body falls over mine as he comes down with me, the both of us laughing when I squeal on impact. He catches himself before our heads can knock together, supporting his weight with an arm braced on my side. But even with that, we are chest to chest, his mouth inches from mine, his warm body blanketing mine.
“The game is over.” He confirms, “But the night isn’t.”
“No,” I agree. “It definitely isn’t.”
The hand that’s not holding himself up traipses the side of my stomach, chasing away the fabric of his shirt in slow, gentle strokes. My eyes flutter closed at the touch, so gentle and sweet, and I feel the warmth of his mouth over mine. He doesn’t kiss me as his hand skates along my arm, pushing it over my head, and then something cold brushes against my wrist.
It takes me a minute to place the metal clank—the cuff is already closed around me by the time I turn my eyes up to look at what just happened. It takes another minute to process that the cuff is attached to his bed post, and pulling on it does nothing.
I try to ask him what he’s doing, but my tongue doesn’t feel like it moves, and words don’t seem to make it out of my mouth. Idon’t know Austin well enough to be chained to his bed, but I’m not horrified by the idea. In fact, part of me gets a wicked thrill at the idea that Austin may actually be able to give me what I need.
But he doesn’t give me anything, pulling away from me instead. I can’t focus on his eyes or his words as he moves away from me. I wouldn’t have seen the door open either if it weren’t for the shadow that bounces across the room.
I try to see who he just let in to join us, or if he’s just stepping out and leaving me alone up here for some strange reason. There’s a weird phantom breath on my spine that tells me I’m in trouble now. It’s like my instincts can’t break through whatever fog has been cast on me; I can’t even shiver all the way, can’t feel the depth of just how fucked I really am… or how badly I’m about to be.
And I’m actually kind of glad for that because when he moves into view, I know I’m in deep trouble.
Chapter eleven
Remy
We’re gathered in my kitchen again, but this time Elaine is sitting down with the rest of us. She insisted that she could handle whatever comes, but I’m not so sure. I do know I can’t ask her to go back to prepping our dinner when she still looks like she’s going to vomit, which is why we’re all currently waiting on pizza.
I asked Elaine why she never said anything to Claire the whole time she was here, considering she clearly knew from the first moment she saw her that her mother was a missing person. But the more I think about it, the more I understand. How the fuck am I supposed to tell her that her mother may have been sold into sex slavery? There’s too many questions that aren’t answered, too many that can’t be explained away. Even if Lauren was pregnant that night of the party, how would Davos have known? Was it just a coincidence? Or did Claire’s conception happen during her mother’s captivity?
That’s not the kind of news you can drop on someone, I’m guessing. Not when Claire herself is already a victim of a failed system. Not when she’s trying so hard to move on from all of the pain and darkness that doesn’t want to release its grip on her. Telling her that she could be a product of rape would just be sending her back into darkness, a prison in her own mind. I can’t do that to her. I want to keep her as far away from this world as possible.
“This ‘menu’ is the most up-to-date list there is. Clients go in and can either ask for the menu or choose the special of the day.”
“That’s disgusting.” Dom says coldly, not needing any further explanation on what that means. After I really think about it, neither do I. I wish it had gone unanswered.
“Are we talking about… cannibalism?” Rich looks hesitantly at me, and when I don’t answer, his eyes turn to Michael, seeking clarification.
“Not in this instance.” Michael clears his throat, trying to make room for the emotion there. “In this instance, the special of the day is… well, it’s just a girl… or guy, who’s been chosen to have the most visitors. People who get overwhelmed by decisions can simply take what’s being offered.”
I watch Elaine’s nails digging into her tender skin as she clenches her hands so hard I think she may bust a knuckle. “It’s kind of like a prison in a sense that you can’t bring anything in with you. Personal belongings are checked at the door, and clients are only allowed in with the clothes on their back.”
“So, what’s thea la car-taymenu?” Rook asks, glancing at a paper without any photos on it. No one bothers to tell him he butchered the pronunciation, and I don’t think he’d have heard if they did because his eyes are busy scanning the paper. “Clamps, needles, stapler… what the fuck would you need a stapler for?”
Harley turns her head away, needing a quick escape from the conversation. I’d think she was going to vomit if I didn’t know she had nerves of steel. Kent, on the other hand, is as white as my crisply laundered bedsheets. “The… a la carte menu is designed to enhance the experience for the client. Candles, matches, speakers, knives and guns. They even have animals they offer.”
“Guns?” Dimitri frowns. “They let their clients shoot their prisoners?”
I’m a little stuck on the casual mention of bestiality myself, but I force myself to swallow the bile and focus on Michael, who grips the countertop as he shakes his head.
