Page 81 of The Devils Melody
“Good girl,” he praises, and the words hit me low and hard, making my breath catch.
I’ve read guys calling their women good girls in plenty of my smutty novels, and it’s something that has always warmed my insides. Rich did it a handful of times during sex, but it never hit me the same way it did in my books. I thought maybe it was just a fictional men thing. Kage has proven that to be false, becauseholy shit, I can feel myself leaking down my thighs.
Nox lingers a while longer, his gaze softens when he looks at me. “We won’t be gone for long.”
I nod, swallowing my nerves down. As they walk out of the kitchen leaving me alone, my head starts to spin with the same question. What the hell are they involved in? And what happens to me when they decide I’m no longer worth protecting?
The large houseis too quiet without them here. After leaving me in the kitchen, the boys got dressed and slipped out quickly. Despite everything I overheard, I really wishthey would have stayed with me. With nothing else better to do, I find myself wandering aimlessly around the space, my curiosity getting the best of me. Every room I peek into looks like something out of a modern home catalog. There’s no clutter or signs of life anywhere. How could two men be so clean?
Walking up the stairs and down the hallway, I find several more doors. All of them are closed, except for the room I slept in, which only makes me want to peek inside even more. The first door I open looks like a home office. A sleek black desk sits in the center, shelves filled with books line the walls, everything perfectly in order. Even the pens on the desk are in a straight little row.
I can’t touch anything. If I do, there’s no doubt that they’ll know. How could they not? This place is so spotless, they’ll probably see my bare footprints on the hardwood. The urge to open drawers in that desk is gnawing at me but I ignore it, tiptoeing back out of the office.
Pulling the door shut behind me, I walk deeper into the hallway. Opening the door across from mine, I find another bedroom, this one much different than the one I’m staying in. It smells like Nox and I’m immediately drawn to it, the scent pulling me inside the room.
Nox’s room is just as big as mine, maybe even bigger. The walls are painted a soft grey, which is honestly something I expected, and the large bed in the center is impeccably made with crisp white sheets and a matching comforter. It almost looks like a hotel bed, only cleaner. My eyes are drawn to a set of sleek double doors on the far wall, and before I can stop myself, I’m walking towards them and reaching for the handles.
Inside is a walk-in closet, larger than my entire bedroom. Rows of suits, button ups, and perfectly pressedslacks hang, all color coded. My eyes trace the subtle patterns and the care in how everything is arranged. Even his ties are rolled and placed neatly in a drawer with a glass top. It’s quite impressive.
Nox’s room is so clean, I feel like if I stay in here I’ll mess something up somehow and the idea of that makes me shudder. Shutting the closet doors, I slip back into the hall and ease the door closed behind me. I walk towards the door next to the room I’m staying in, remembering that Kage said his room was right next door.
The second I step inside, the difference between the two bedrooms is staggering. Where Nox’s room was clean and precise, Kage’s is…wild. The walls are painted a dark black and a strip of red lighting lines the ceiling, casting the room in a crimson glow. A large black bed with silk, red sheets sits in the center of the room, a large mirror hung above it on the ceiling.
Hanging neatly on one wall is a set of toys. Floggers of various lengths and textures, leather paddles, different types of rope, and two different sets of handcuffs. One is your average metal police cuffs, the others are leather, lined with a fur-like material.
My eyes snag on the glint of something on the opposite wall that is even more intimidating. Bolted to the wall is an X shaped structure with thick black cuffs attached to each end. My stomach flips when I realize it’s a St. Andrew's cross. It’s like I walked into someone's sex fantasy.
My feet have a mind of their own as I cautiously step deeper inside the bedroom, my heart beating a mile a minute. Is it possible to be turned on by the sight of a room? Because right now all I can think about it being pinned to that cross and fucked beyond an inch of my life.
I walk to the set of toys on the wall, running my fingersacross the stripped leather of the floggers. Beneath it is a set of drawers that I can only imagine has more delicious toys inside. Opening the first drawer, I find my suspicions proven right. Lined neatly are several different plugs in various shapes and sizes. Some are made of metal, others are made of glass.
Who the hell sticks a glass plug up their ass?
Every drawer has different toys in it, things I’ve never even seen before. I’m immediately intimidated, wondering what the fuck I just got myself into, and why do I want to know more?
I shouldn’t be in here, but my feet keep moving anyway. Across from the bed, another set of doors catch my eye. They’re different from Nox’s pristine closet doors, but somehow even more intriguing. I pull the doors open to find the closet surprisingly neat. Dark shirts and jeans hang in rows, various types of leather jackets hung beside them. Stepping inside, I run my fingers along the soft fabric of a black shirt before my gaze drops lower.
On the top of a shelf, tucked behind a stack of folded clothes, something catches my eye. A worn photo. Curiosity once again takes over my body as I grab the picture. The colors are faded, but it's unmistakably a younger Kage, maybe seven or eight years old. He’s smiling wide, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He’s standing beside a beautiful woman with the same face, only feminine and I realize it’s his mother.
Only, the picture isn’t whole. The right side was burned away, leaving just the obvious shape of a man's arm draped over Kage’s small shoulders. And the watch that adorns that arm—my stomach drops.
It’s hauntingly familiar. I remember when I was younger, my mom and I picked out that exact watch for myfather’s birthday. For a moment, I can’t breathe, my fingers trembling as I trace the burnt edge of the picture. The longer I stare, the more I convince myself that this couldn’t possibly be my father. The watch was so cheap, anyone could have bought the same one. I was so young when we bought it, there’s a very good chance I’m completely remembering it wrong.
Shaking the haunting feeling away, I place the photo back where I found it and leave the room, no longer in the mood to keep snooping around. I walk back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Popcorn and a movie are calling my name.
Rummaging through all the cabinets, I finally find what I need. I toss the bag of popcorn into the microwave and lean against the counter. Waiting for the popcorn, my mind wanders to Retta and how she's been doing. My last messages from her left me feeling uneasy. Normally she’s loud and overdramatic, her messages drowning in emojis and gifs. But those last few texts were so lifeless and unlike her.
The microwave beeps, startling me out of my thoughts. I yank the bag out, not even caring when it burns my fingers and dump the popcorn into a bowl. Making my way over to the couch, I scroll through my messages, rereading the last thread of texts I received from her. The feeling in the pit of my stomach grows heavier as I stare at the screen.
It’s just so weird.
My thumb hovers over her name. Should I call her? What if she doesn’t answer?
Well, I guess she doesn’t answer then, Wren. Fucking call.
Sitting down, I tap the screen, hit dial and wait. The phone rings twice before it goes to voicemail. How did Iknow that was going to happen? It’s almost as if I just said it would.
Rolling my eyes, I go back to our thread of messages and begin typing, but I stop the second I see three little dots emerge from the bottom of the screen, indicating her typing. Just as quickly as they appear, they disappear, and then appear once more.
