Hellbent, page 13
“Have you been back up to GodsAcre since the fire?” she said.
Anton was silent for a while. “No,” he said. “All these years, you couldn’t pay me to get near that place. Not even when we found out that we owned it. Me, Eric and Mace. Twisted, huh? It shook down in the end that we were Jeremiah’s legal heirs, since he legally adopted us years back when he married our mom. We didn’t even know. Otis dealt with all that for us, thank God. We didn’t want to touch it.”
“I wouldn’t, either.” She took a deep breath. “Do you remember that night?”
“The night of the fire, you mean.”
“Yes.” Fiona followed the yellow line snaking ahead of them on the dark, curving mountain with her eyes, bracing herself. Anton took a long time to answer. She was already dreading it.
“Not as much as Eric or Mace might,” he said. “They’d be able to tell you more. I was sick.”
“Sick how?”
He shrugged. “Don’t remember. Eric and Mace dragged me out of the infirmary. We’d already planned to blow up the caverns that night and they needed me to help with the plan, even though I was in shit shape. After we detonated the charges, we smelled smoke from up the hill and saw the light from the Great Hall. The trees around it were burning. Then we heard the screams. Someone had put those huge padlocks on the inside of the big armored doors. They found the padlocks in the ruins after, still locked. I remember that night like a bad dream. I had a fever of a hundred and four. The police decided it had to be Jeremiah who locked the doors and set the fires. That he’d just snapped.”
Fiona shook her head. “That doesn’t sound right. That wasn’t his brand of crazy.”
“I didn’t think so either,” Anton said. “But it was the easiest explanation they could come up with, so they went with it. There was no one left but Eric and Mace and me to argue with them.”
It was another twenty miles before she worked up the courage for another pass.
“Why were you in the infirmary?” she asked.
He made a frustrated sound. “Jesus, Fi. It was a long time ago.”
“Not that long,” she said. “Those scars on your back. They flogged you for helping me escape. Right?”
Anton stared grimly ahead at the road. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
She shut up, but the closer they got to Shaw’s Crossing, the louder the buzz of panic in the back of her mind. That coppery taste in her mouth. She had a clutch in her chest, as if a huge hand were squeezing it. She couldn’t get enough air.
She was walking right into a trap.
But Anton was walking into it with her, she reminded herself. He might be miserable and tense, but he believed her. And she wasn’t the only one. Eric and his girlfriend were under attack, too. Which sucked for them, and she was sorry, but at least she wasn’t the lonesome lightning rod, attracting all the craziness only to herself. She no longer had to doubt her own sanity. She had company in crazytown.
But at the moment, those were feelings best left unshared. The exit signs for Shaw’s Crossing were a timely distraction. An avalanche of unwelcome memories coming down on her. Something fresh to feel tense and ambivalent about.
They drove through the downtown area, now shuttered for the night. She’d never spent much time in Shaw’s Crossing when she was a kid, but it looked different than she remembered. More attractive. Bigger, richer, more trendy and touristy. She passed an art cinema, a sculpture gallery, an ice cream parlor. They skirted the lake, which now sported a long and handsome boardwalk, and took the road that went up through the Heights, turning onto a road she didn’t recognize.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I rented a vacation residence up on Shaw’s Bluff, over the canyon.”
“Oh. So we’re not staying with Eric?”
“I barely know Demi Vaughan,” he told her. “I don’t want to impose on her. Plus, Eric’s crazy in love, and I don’t want to interrupt their big bonding moment.”
This clearly wasn’t the moment to expand on that loaded subject, so Fiona just kept on talking. “Where did you live when you were in high school here?”
“Otis Trask’s place, way out on Vensel Road. It’s ours now, too, but I’m not comfortable staying there either. Not if Otis was murdered there last week.”
“Not to criticize your choices, but I doubt that a vacation cabin on the bluff will be much better, security-wise,” she commented. “Not once they know we’re here.”
“Nate spent the afternoon wiring up the security system. We’ll see anything that moves for a hundred meters around. Plus, it’s on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Kettle River Canyon. Easier to defend than Otis’s house.”
“Wow, you think of everything. So is this a hot tryst? Or a desperate last stand?”
He hesitated. “Is this a trick question?”
She just laughed. “Feeling insecure, Anton?”
He grunted under his breath, which made her laugh. “Speaking of desperate last stands, I’m pretty good with a handgun,” she told him. “I’m not much of a distance shooter, though.”
“Good to know. We have a big arsenal, between what Nate brought and what I brought. You’ll find something you like.” He paused, and added, “And, ah…for the record, it’s a hot tryst. Not a desperate last stand.”
She smiled to herself in the dark. “Whatever you say.”
“I picked it for the view of the Upper Falls,” he said. “Saw the picture in an online brochure. You’ll see in the morning.”
He slowed to pull into a long driveway, and after a few minutes of switchback hairpin curves up a dark, narrow road, they pulled into a parking bay that was carved into the rocks below a house perched on a rock outcropping. A tall, chalet-style house, surrounded by towering pine and spruce trees.
Nate Murphy emerged and came down the walkway as they parked.
“Hey, Nate,” Anton said as he got out. “Is the place ready?”
“It’s all set. I ate with Eric and Wong down at Demi’s restaurant. Wong’s all settled in at Demi’s house to cover them for the night, and the other two guys are headed back to Seattle. That place has awesome food, by the way. Demi sent some stuff up for you guys. The fridge is full whenever you’re hungry.”
“Great. Thanks. Want me to take first watch?”
“Nah, I’m good. I caught a nap before, and coffeed up at the restaurant. You guys just relax.” Nate grabbed her travel bag. “Come inside. I’ll show you the place.”
The house was too large to be called a cabin. Luxuriously finished, paneled in fragrant warm-tinted cedar. Wood floors, vaulted ceilings, vast windows. Comfortable understated furniture in earth-toned colors. A minimalist décor designed to soothe.
She wasn’t soothable. But the place was pretty, and looked expensive. Surprise, surprise.
The front room looked out over the forest hillside, but the kitchen and bedrooms in the back opened out onto a big terrace that jutted out over the deep canyon. Nate showed her into one of the bedrooms and set down her bag.
After he left, she went over and peered out the picture window, trying to see through the darkness. If they were on the top of Shaw’s Bluff, they were close enough to GodsAcre that they could almost see it across the canyon. If there was light. If you knew exactly where to look. Above the Upper Falls, and a little to the right.
Such proximity to the ashy ruins of that place gave her a ghostly chill.
Anton appeared in the doorway of her room. “There’s food in the kitchen, and Demi sent up a few bottles of wine. What’s your preference? White or red?”
“Seriously? We’re looking GodsAcre in the face, and we have evil ghosts with an unknown agenda on our asses, and you’re offering me alcohol?”
Anton’s eyebrow tilted up. “Ahhhh...and this is so scandalous…why?”
“Under no circumstances would I drink something that would slow my reflexes,” she told him. “I hesitate to do that even in the calmest moments of my life.”
Anton shook his head. “Life goals,” he said. “To make your world safe enough so you can dare to have a fucking glass of wine with your sandwich.”
“You think I’m being paranoid? After the way things have been going? I thought we were on the same page now.”
“Sure, but you have Nate and me keeping armed watch,” he pointed out. “And you have a fuck-ton of security gear to give us ample warning if anyone approaches. You can afford to have a glass of wine.”
“I don’t outsource responsibility for my own safety to anyone,” she told him.
“Oh man, that’s spooky,” Anton murmured. “I just heard Jeremiah speak right through your mouth. Cold chills.”
“Don’t start with that lecture again,” she snapped. “It was bad enough the first time. If there’s coffee in the kitchen, fine. That I’ll drink.”
Anton looked resigned. “There’s plenty of coffee. Suit yourself.”
She didn’t have much of an appetite this close to GodsAcre. She nibbled a ham and cheese croissant and perched on the kitchen stool to sip her coffee while Anton devoured gigantic portions of lasagna and a plate with cold cuts and salads. His appetite showed no signs of flagging, so after a while, she left him to it and retreated to her room.
She sat on the bed watching the moon rise through the huge window, wondering how to inject some steel back into her spine. Something about this place killed her nerve.
She felt like the old Fiona here. The way she’d felt back at GodsAcre. Broken down, small, defenseless. A monster’s next snack. Chained up for his convenience.
She’d been overcompensating for that ever since. All her life, she’d done everything she could think of to feel strong, armored, nobody’s fool. Ready for anything.
And all her efforts were for nothing. All that energy she’d invested in shoring herself up, gone in a blink. In this place, she still felt like crawling under the bed.
She threw on her coat, shoved her feet back into the unlaced hiking boots, and slid open the picture window that opened onto the wide terrace to get some wind in her hair.
Anton was leaning on the wooden railing. She joined him, and they gazed out at the canyon together. The mountaintops were bright with moonlight, but the deep chasm where the river roared faintly below was a pool of impenetrable shadow.
It was like looking out over the edge of the world.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“Angry ghosts,” she replied. “They make too much noise in my head.”
“They shouldn’t be angry at you,” Anton said. “You never did anything wrong. Not a goddamn thing. Ever.”
“Neither did you,” she pointed out.
He grunted under his breath. “I’m no saint.”
She turned to look at him. “No? Is that why your nightclubs are named Hellbound? Was that a fuck-you to Jeremiah? Another rebellion?”
He was silent for a moment, and then shook his head. “I just thought it sounded good,” he said. “I wanted something loud. In-your-face. Unashamed.”
They listened for a few minutes to the rush of the wind in the trees and the chatter of the creek. Then Anton spoke again.
“I didn’t think I was reacting to Jeremiah at the time,” he said. “But who knows what’s down there. In the snake-pit of my mind.”
“It’s ugly down there,” she said.
“True thing,” he agreed.
After a moment, Fiona put out her hand, laying it on his arm. “I’m so sorry that Kimball beat you because of me.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he said.
“It mattered to me,” she said. “It meant everything to me.”
“I knew what would happen to me when I did it,” he said. “I knew exactly how angry he would be. I know how it would play out. Nobody forced me.”
A hot pressure was building in her throat. “Kimball flogged you himself, right?”
He didn’t bother to confirm it. “I don’t regret helping you run away. I’ve done some questionable shit in my life, most of it self-serving.” His eyes caught the moonlight as he faced her. “But not that time. That was my finest hour.”
Her face burned. She yielded to his magnetic pull on her body and swayed close enough to smell his skin. Feel the delicious, life-giving heat rising off him.
“That kiss,” she whispered. “At the bus station.”
He looked embarrassed. “Sorry about that. It was my last chance to kiss you, maybe forever, so I took it. But after all the shit you’d been through with Kimball, I should never have touched you. It was selfish of me.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” she said swiftly. “It was wonderful. Innocent.”
He grunted under his breath. “Not quite the word I would choose.”
“I would,” she said vehemently. “By contrast, I definitely would. Kimball had been feeling me up and muttering filth at me for months. It made me feel so dirty. Then you kissed me goodbye like you really saw me. I mean, me, Fiona. The person I am inside, not just my body. You kissed me like I was real. And special.”
“You are special,” he said. “You’re incredible, Fi.”
She let out a short, bitter laugh. “Thanks, Anton. But I’m not feeling it.”
“Then try feeling this.” He pulled her close, clamping her tight against his solid heat, and kissed her. Her head cupped in his big hand.
She kissed him back, wildly, feeling it come together. This was it. This was how she survived the darkness. This was the wild magic that could light her way.
The kiss was wildly carnal. Frenzied, urgent. She pulled back to drag in some air.
“I’m not innocent,” he told her harshly. “Not at all. Not anymore.”
“That’s okay,” she replied. “I’m not, either.”
“Good. Then let me show you just how special I think you are,” he said against her throat. “Let me make you come until you pass out.”
“Whoa. The hell-bound bad boy comes out to play.”
“If that’s what makes you hot. Just be aware. This place makes me feel half-crazy. The sex will be crazy, too. Fair warning.”
Yes. Her back straightened. Power filled her up. She felt taller, bigger, stronger. Ready to leap on him. Claim her prize.
She seized his shirt and yanked. “I’ll warn you right back,” she told him. “When it comes to crazy? Buddy, I leave you in the dust.”
He let out a crack of laughter. “Competitive much?”
“Always.”
Anton sank to his knees in front of her. “Let’s see who begs for mercy first.”
15
The buttons of her jeans yielded swiftly to his deft fingers. The hot, soft skin underneath drove him nuts. He had to cool this off. Slow this down. But not too much.
Tricky, to balance the struggle inside him. The wild animal lunging on the chain. The macho control freak with something to prove. Both of them needed to be in on the action. Fi liked that wild animal. It got her going.
Fi would always get exactly what she needed from him. Those were the rules.
Oh, fuck, where to even begin. He wanted to touch every part of her perfect body. He wanted to kiss her, lick her, fuck her endlessly. But she was tight and tense. Insanely wound up. Which meant lots of slow, juicy licking action to get her primed and ready.
Ahhh. Yeah. He was so down for that.
He dragged her stretchy panties down to bare the trimmed swatch of hair on her mound. It curled into tight reddish vortex over her clit. Her skin was so soft and hot, the damp curls silky soft against his lips. He loved her strong, shapely thighs. Loved sliding his tongue up and down her pussy lips. Endlessly. Patiently.
Slowly opening them to seek out the slick tender inner lips. Already wet and slick. He opened her wider, rolling his tongue slowly around her clit, caressing her inside her pussy with a slow, skillful thrust and swivel of his fingers. Going for the spot inside that made her shudder and moan. Opening her wider for his cock.
But not yet. First, he had to prove a point. A whole lot of points, like stars in the sky. First, he delivered that crucial message that words could not convey. Only his body could say it, burning with the need for worship her, pleasure her, and just…never…stop.
She arched back against the railing with a low, shuddering gasp as the first orgasm broke over her. Anton waited, enjoying the strong pulses of energy throbbing against his mouth and squeezing his probing fingers. The helpless sounds she made. Yes.
A good start. Promising. Time to get horizontal.
Fiona was so boneless and disoriented with pleasure, she barely protested when he picked her up. He carried her back through the opened door and was putting her down onto the bed before she could rally her defenses. She watched him tug off her unlaced boots, then her jeans and panties. Her long, strong legs were so fucking beautiful.
She shivered. “Brrr. Cold.”
“Not for long.” He lunged for the door and closed it, blocking out the chill and the eerie rush of the night wind. “I’ll warm you up.”
He flicked on the bedside lamp to the lowest setting, just enough to admire the details of her. The ginger curls of pussy hair, the pale pinks and hot pinks of her pussy, in stark contrast to the milky Irish paleness of her freckled skin.
He wanted to memorize all those freckles. Kissing them and licking them. Points of reference like a star map to leading him through the dark. Her sexy juice was flowing, sticky and sweet, and her pussy was slick and hot. He shook inside with eagerness.
He helped drag the sweater off over her head and unhook her bra. Lifted off the flash grenade necklace and placed it carefully on the bedside table before ripping his own clothes off. Pulling out the condom he carried around, just because it would be tragic to miss a chance to get lucky with Fiona for something so stupid as a lack of latex.
Fiona rolled over to pull the covers down. Her ass was so beautiful like that, he grabbed her hips, holding her still. So fucking gorgeous. She stole his breath.
“Wait,” he said. “Let me look at your ass. Fi. You are so damn beautiful.”
