by Shayne Ford
We never liked each other much, the childhood animosity evolving into a full-fledged war since the hormones have been running amok in our house.
It all took a turn for the worse when she began to go out and hook up with men, her arrogance soaring tenfold.
Despite her claims, I’ve never been jealous. I’d dare to say it's the other way around.
It doesn’t help that, besides sharing our parents and living in the same house, we don’t have much in common. We don’t even look alike.
She has brown hair and dark eyes. I’m blonde with hazel eyes. She looks like a pin-up girl and loves to spend time in front of the mirror. I’d rather be outside, talk with Eve or read a book. She goes out a lot. I don’t. She likes men. I like cars.
Eve was right. Daria is the dick vacuum in this town.
She finally picks her choice and slips a skintight dress over her body.
“Zip me up,” she barks, without dignifying me with a glance.
I pull the zipper up and graze her skin.
She yelps.
“Hey... You don’t have to be nasty.”
Look who’s talking.
“I’m not nasty. I don’t like when you use me to get to your cock dates.”
Laughter simmers in her throat.
“Mmm... Somebody’s longing for one.”
“Shut up, Daria.”
Pissed, I storm out of the walk-in closet.
She follows me into the kitchen, her heels click-clacking against the tiles, a small double sided mirror dangling from her hand.
She slides it on the table, pulls out a chair, and gingerly takes a seat, her dress screaming at the seams.
“You don’t have to give me a ride. I just didn’t want to involve the driver in any of this. That’s all,” she says, precious.
“Uh-huh. So, where exactly are you going?” I ask, grabbing a fruit yogurt from the fridge.
She brushes a few strands of hair away from her face, and glances in the mirror, painstakingly going over every single detail of her makeup.
Satisfied, she purses her lips and exercises a few come-hither looks.
Sticking a teaspoon full of strawberry yogurt in my mouth, I roll my eyes.
“It’s better if you don’t know. This way you don’t have to lie for me.”
Gravel crunches beneath rolling tires as a car pulls smoothly in front of our house.
Her eyes light up.
She pushes out of her chair, grabs her purse, wiggles her fingers in my direction and struts outside.
2
RAIN
* * *
I grab the bowl of popcorn, shift my phone to the other hand, and walk out of the kitchen.
“Do you think any of those stories are true?” I ask, strolling down the hallway.
I enter my room, place the bowl on the nightstand, peel off the robe and slip under the cover.
“Something must be true,” Eve says.
“Then, why aren’t the women talking?”
“Saying what, exactly?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps who they are and how they look like... What they did to them.”
“My guess is, they either blackmailed them, or the women left that place in a freaking awe…” she says, her words followed by a giggle.
Eve sure gets a kick out of it.
“Do you know any of these women?”
“One of my friends knows someone who spent a night at the Dark House, a couple of years back.”
“And?”
“When she came back she started to act strangely.”
She pauses.
“Meaning?”
“She didn’t want to talk about it and soon after she broke up with her boyfriend and moved to Boston. My friend never heard from her again.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“No, no. She’d spilled a few details before she left. Only handpicked women are invited to their house. They usually crash at Red’s, but once in a while they pick up female guests and take them to the Dark House. The lights are never on, or maybe they are, but on the other side––the one facing the water, but it’s hard to tell. No one can get close to the estate. The only way to access it is the private road.”
“Did she say anything?”
“She kept mumbling something about the... Night of the Kings.”
“What the hell is that?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure it involves them, and the women they choose to spend their time with. Those women are not the same when they come back. Some break up with their boyfriends. Others move away.”
“People do that all the time...”
“They do, but these particular women do it after they spend a night with them,” she says, so vested in the theory that something deliciously sinful happens in that house.
“Who was the woman you were talking about?”
“Denise Anderson.”
“As in Lehman&Anderson, the financial firm?”
“Yes. You know her?”
“No, not really, but my dad has done some business with Eric Lehman.”
“Anyway, that’s how the story goes. At least, we’re safe...” she says sarcastically, and we share a snicker.
A small rap on the door kills my laughter.
“Shit,” I gasp.
“What happened?”
“Miss Rain?”
“Who is that?” Eve hisses in my ear.
“It’s the housekeeper,” I say quietly.
“Jesus, Rain. You scared me.”
I jump out of bed and crack the door open.
“I finished up my work. Is there anything else?”
“No. You can leave now. Thank you. Good night!”
I leave the door open and tiptoe back to the bed, listening to the sounds as the housekeeper trails through the house. Her footsteps near the main door. A moment later, I hear the distinct metallic sound of the lock. I pick up the phone.
“Are you alone?” Eve asks.
“Yes.”
“Where’s Daria?”
“I have no idea. She left hours ago, and she didn’t want to tell me. A fuck date, I suppose. Some guy picked her up.”
“Too bad you two don’t get along. She sure gets a nice supply of cock,” she says, almost choking on a chuckle.
“Stop saying that,” I chide her. “Oh, speaking of the devil,” I say, glancing at the incoming call. “What the hell does she want now? She’s never called me in the middle of the night...” I mutter, mainly to myself. “Okay, I gotta go.”
My sister’s voice grates my nerves right from the get go.
“Um... Listen... You need to pick me up.”
“What?”
“You need to––”
“Why? Where’s your date?”
“He’s gone. We had a fight... I don’t want to talk about it,” she says panting, her voice fading in and out as if she walks briskly.
“I can send Joseph.”
“Keep him out of this.”
“You can get a car.”
“Not at this time, smartass. Besides, I don’t want to get in some creep’s car.”
“He has a dick,” I say unable to stifle my retort.
“Stop wasting my time. Get off your ass and come pick me up!” she barks.
“Fucking princess,” I growl under my breath, throwing the cover off me.
“What was that?”
I walk into my closet.
“Nothing. You’re a pain in the butt, Daria.” Her laughter fills my ear. “Oh, you think it’s funny? Just so you know, I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for mom and dad.”
“Whatever you say, warrior princess,” she sneers.
“Stop calling me that!”
No chance in hell. She keeps yapping.
“Maybe that’s why nobody wants to pop that cherry of yours. They’re afraid a dagger might slip out of your pussy.”
Gritting my teeth, I clutch the phone and pull it to my lips.
“Do
you want me to pick you up or not?” I growl.
“Don’t be late,” she says, condescendence threading through her voice.“I’m at Red’s.”
“What?? Why?”
The call drops and my questions fall into the ether.
Fucking bitch.
I slip into a pair of jean shorts and pull on a white tank top, that hugs my breasts, and fits snug across my stomach. I don’t bother with a bra, since I have no reason to get out of the car.
I rake my fingers through my hair, let it fall down my back, put my flip flops in a rush and pace to the main door. I look for my car keys, and then I remember.
My car is still in the shop.
Shit.
Oh, damn it. I have to use my mom’s car. That’s not good. It’s easy to spot her silver Mercedes especially in the middle of the night on the well-lit streets of downtown, but then again, I don’t expect any of her acquaintances to flock at Red’s.
I climb in the car, and carefully pull away, following the gravel road. Twenty minutes later, I occupy the only available parking spot in front of Red’s.
The building looks somber wrapped in darkness, the only light pinned above the entrance casting a subtle glow over the letters etched in red.
A few stairs connect the sidewalk to a huge metallic door.
I turn the engine off and wait.
The place must be packed. The parking lot is full. Cars keep coming, dropping off customers, very few leaving.
The main door cracks open a couple of times, and the sound of music mixed with loud voices slips outside along with a few drunk patrons who move the party somewhere else.
A couple of limousines pull in, just as the door swings open again and men accompanied by scantily clad women walk out of the club.
Tipsy, the women laugh, and stumble and cling to their men, their shrills rippling into the night as they get shoved into the cars. The limos pull away, the street turning quiet again.
Where the fuck is she?
I search for my phone. I tap both pockets, front and back, cold sweat trickling down my neck. Fucking hell. I left it at home.
I glance at the time. It’s one o’clock in the morning, and she’s nowhere in sight. I have no phone, and not enough clothing to walk outside.
Besides, I can’t get inside the club.
Short on ideas, I roll the window down, my mind squirming to come up with something.
Cold air washes over me, sending a chill down my back, a reminder that the fall is almost here. A whiff of smoke shifts from nearby. I crane my neck out, and scan the parking. I spot no one. The night is dark and silent.
Damn you, Daria...
I run my hand over the backseat, searching for a jacket or a sweater, something that my mom might have left behind, anything to slip over my top.
There’s nothing.
I take a long breath, and against my better judgement, I ignore the thudding in my chest, and my trembling hands, and I climb out the car.
I swivel my head a few times, glancing up and down the street. There’s not the slightest motion.
Rushed, I leap up the stairs, and almost reach the black metallic door, when muffled voices coming from inside stop me in my tracks.
The door sways open, the noise spilling outside along with another group of men and women.
Nimble, I pivot to the side, my back hitting the wall as they slip by me, drunk and noisy and oblivious.
I ponder for a moment whether I should still try to get inside or rather spin around and go home. She must’ve found a ride by now. Knowing her, I wouldn’t be surprised if she forgot about me.
I make up my mind, and turn around, crashing into a wall of muscles.
“Ah!!!” I squeal.
Startled, I pull back and smash into the door, adrenaline surging through my body. My heart beats in my throat, and my lungs cry for air as I realize there’s not much room around me.
My eyes land on the broad chest of a tall man.
“Excuse me,” I mumble, unable to raise my eyes.
I take a step to the side, attempting to walk around him when another man about the same height, closes in on me, blocking my retreat.
My gaze drops to the ground, my pulse racing while broken thoughts rush through my head. I gasp and pant and crush a whimper, shivering as if it’s winter.
A few moments of silence unfold between us as I keenly study their boots.
“Are you coming or going, sweetheart?” the man in front of me drawls, his voice low and thick and smoky, spiked with a dash of rasp.
Slowly, I drag my gaze up his body and meet his eyes. Perfect silence flows through my parted lips, my voice shot at the bottom of my throat.
“Cat ate your tongue, huh? What say you, Lex? Is she coming...?” he asks the man parked at his side, a smile threading through his voice.
“She’s definitely coming,” the other voice says, lazy and nasal, carrying a sensual timbre.
“I... um... I’m sorry,” I stammer, my voice shaky.
“Mmm... She’s got her voice back,” the first man says, amused.
My shoulders slump, my gaze trailing on the ground again.
“Can we see your eyes, sweetie?” the first voice says, a rustle accompanying his motion as he brings his hand to my face and gently grips my chin.
His skin smells like smoke, cologne, and a lot of danger.
He tips my face up.
As I drift my gaze up his body for the second time, I make a note of his dark jeans and the T-shirt fitting tightly over his carved shoulders and hard torso.
The memory of them comes back to me, and my knees feel soft, my breathing turning shallow.
He tilts my head further back and locks my eyes. The faint light streaming from above disperses over his face.
My mouth pulls open with a silent gasp.
Bedroom green eyes, dark like the pine forest, study me, playful and irresistible, filled with unabashed curiosity.
Thick dark hair rolls down his neck, a few bangs sweeping his well-defined cheekbones while casting shadows over his eyes.
My gaze dips to his perfectly curved lips as he slowly tilts them into a lopsided smile.
I’ve seen this grin before.
Completely swept away, I witness them pulling apart, curving into a softer smile.
He waits a few moments as I let my eyes roam over his handsome features, every inch of him screaming danger. I sense him dark and strong and careless. I also sense him inescapable.
“I’ll be damn,” he says, his eyes taking a snapshot of my face before slowly descending on my body.
A sharp intake of air raises my chest, and he promptly shifts his focus to my perky breasts. His gaze stalls on my mounds as they push up against the top, my nipples hard and obvious against the sheer fabric.
“Can... Can I go now?” I mutter, and he slowly pulls his eyes away from my breasts, and connects them with mine.
His smile makes my insides crumble.
“I’m not so sure, honey. Lex? What say you? Do we let her go?”
My eyes dart to the blonde man. Appreciatively, he bites his lip, his light blue gaze floating freely over my body.
I look back at the dark-haired man.
He lets go of my chin, and I finally relax my neck. They exchange looks as my eyes move back and forth between them, taking in their masculine jaws, and strikingly beautiful features.
Their eyes sparkle in the dark as mysterious smiles curve their lips.
They’re older than me, but not more than twenty-five.
“It’s up to you, James,” Lex, says, narrowing his sky-like eyes at me.
James’ hand comes to my face, his fingers brushing my skin, his body pulling closer, pinning me against the door.
My chest expands against his torso as I desperately try to breathe.
We lock eyes for a moment, and I vaporize under his stare.
“How old are you, darling?” he murmurs, and his voice falls through me.
My reacti
on to him makes me all tingly and damp between my thighs.
He wraps his fingers around my neck, and panic mixed with pleasure rams through my veins.
“You lost your voice, sweetie?” he purrs, and my surroundings completely vanish.
It’s only me and him and the frantic sound of my heart pumping blood in my ears, rattling my throat and my chest.
It’s the power of his eyes entrapping me as a knowing smile drapes over his lips, the very essence of him warning me, fair and square, to stay away from him.
And then, there is this genuine curiosity he has for me, and somehow, that’s all that matters right now.
My head starts swimming as my lungs can’t get enough air.
I clutch him with both hands as my legs are about to give in. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest. Quickly, I warm up in his embrace, waves of heat flowing through my blood.
Breathing raggedly, I sink my nails into his arms, and lock my eyes with his as soft sounds of desperation escape my lips.
He tightens his embrace, burying me into his arms.
“Breathe, baby, breathe... You’re okay,” he says softly, holding me tight, his lips touching my hair.
There’s something powerful in his voice that courses through me and does its magic. I hang on to him as the brunt of my panic fades away and slowly I begin to relax.
His hand slides up and down my neck, stroking me, with a soft tender motion that spurs more fire in my blood. For a moment, I get drunk on that feeling as if I’m tasting something strong for the first time.
He tips my head down and presses my brow against his shoulder, his fresh scent of cologne mixed with the hint of smoke rolling over me.
Moments later, he tears away while I start to shiver, suddenly cold.
I glance at Lex, who leans against the wall, his hands tucked into his pockets. His eyes connect with mine smoothly as if we know each other from some time, a knowing smile gracing his lips.
I feel warm again.
James takes a small step back and crosses his arms over his chest.
“So... Are you going to tell us how old you are?”
“I’m, um… eighteen,” I say, my voice faltering.
He cocks his head to the side, brings his fingers to his jaw and slowly brushes his chin.