Resist

by Blanche Hardin

  Zed smiled though it lacked warmth. “I have a better idea instead. Under no circumstances does she die. You play your twisted game with her and I’ll play mine. Let the best man win. Not so fair. No so square. What do you say? Or is murdering innocent women the only way you get your rocks off?”

  Blaine raised one of his dark eyebrows questionably. “I don’t murder anyone, brother dearest. That would be Xavier. I merely film it. However, I like your idea. May the baddest and most devious man win?”

  “Something like that,” Zed replied before they shook hands.

  Blaine might have been a worthy adversary but he was better. He knew that in his bones. Plus he had a card to play his brother never could: empathy. Women fell for it every time. Vie was his. It was only a matter of time.

  Games were challenging but this one would be even better and sweeter once he won it and Vie belonged to him.

  Chapter 4

  Vie

  How many times had my mother told me it was rude to snoop on other people?

  I’d never wished I heeded her advice so much until today.

  The moment I was shown to my room, I looked around but had absolutely no desire to unpack. It was a standard full room with a California King bed, designer everything and a large en suite bathroom with both a walk-in shower and separate bathtub that could easily accommodate two people.

  It was elegant yet understated. I hadn’t expected anything different but after spending so much time in the airport and on a plane, I wanted to explore this gorgeous home located in the hills of Hollywood and breathe fresh, non-recycled air.

  I quickly took a shower and changed into a pair of jean shorts and sleeveless Joan Jett & the Blackhearts t-shirt I’d picked up at a thrift store. It was completely vintage and totally eighties with strategic cuts throughout to show off a little skin.

  I might have been a virgin due to my genophobia but I sure as fuck wasn’t innocent. I didn’t have a problem with my sexuality—it was dealing with men and their need to want to fuck me that was the issue.

  I walked out of my room and closed the door behind me before traipsing down the stairs. My lack of shoes kept me quiet and unnoticeable; hence how I almost walked in on Blaine and Zed discussing me.

  “After you have had your fun, she’s mine,” Blaine said in an authoritative tone.

  “Or what?” Zed countered.

  My God. Were they actually negotiating terms about me? And why didn’t this surprise me in the least bit?

  My face grew heated and I backed up a bit in the hallway.

  Surely they’d heard of women’s rights and the fact that a woman couldn’t be ordered around? Were they as crazy as they sounded or had I just slipped into some alternate universe where women were only around to do their bidding?

  Yes, they were good looking guys but I had an issue with the male sex in general. The looks of a man—or lack thereof—weren’t the reason why I was still a virgin. I had no interest in sex, period.

  Nada.

  It didn’t stir any pangs of desire in my loins and my panties didn’t get wet. There was just a blank slate below my waist. I knew it wasn’t normal—hell, I studied abnormal psychology and had a Master’s degree in the subject. I knew I had a problem but it wasn’t theirs to solve. I certainly wouldn’t put up with being treated like a fucking birthday cake everyone could just have a piece of and that applied to the Pascal-Baasch brothers as well as anyone else.

  I continued to back away from the sitting room, not wanting to hear anymore of their conversation when I hit a wall.

  A human one that was well over six feet tall and built like a brick shithouse.

  I turned around to face one of the most beautiful creatures I’d ever seen.

  Dark hair, cut short yet long enough for a girl to run her fingers through those silky brown locks. Piercing crystal blue eyes, a creamy almost girlish complexion and features that were pure Pascal-Baasch. This was the famed Xavier and my cover had just been shot to shit if I had one.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, as he looked me up and down like a delectable dish ready to be served up.

  “Vie,” I said simply, my heart throbbing in my chest like I was about to have a heart attack while I grabbed my slender neck and wrapped a hand around it to prevent a panic attack.

  “Xavier but you can call me Zavi. Everyone else does.”

  I smiled. “I like Xavier better in that case.”

  “Baby, you’re free to call me whatever the fuck you want.” His blue eyes darted away from me before he smiled but there was no mirth in it. “Eaves dropping?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I came downstairs because I felt claustrophobic in my new room and they were . . . discussing me. I couldn’t just walk in and join the conversation, could I?”

  Xavier cocked his head to the side. “Actually, you could have. At least that would have been my first instinct if I heard strange men trying to divvy me up for their own personal pleasure without any regards to my own.”

  “Yeah but you’re not five foot something and one hundred and ten pounds, soaking wet—I am. Kinda hard to tell two virile, strong men what I will and won’t do when they can physically overpower me. The idea of being forced . . . well, it would send me into panic mode. I couldn’t handle that.”

  He wrapped an arm around my waist and turned us around. “Follow me. I promise I won’t hurt you—I’m not like Blaine and Zed. Playing with women isn’t exactly a past time of mine. I like to fuck them and forget it except for one certain blonde who won’t take a hint and get the fuck gone.”

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked casually.

  “Lesson number one . . . if you are going to survive those two, you gotta get high. They have something planned for you tonight and I can’t stop it. Neither can you but I can numb the pain.”

  “I don’t do drugs—”

  “Well then, let me introduce you to some that are about to become your friends, at least for today.”

  “No . . . I can’t . . .” I trailed off.

  “Listen, it’s your choice. Do you want to be scared . . . or do you wanna feel brave?”

  Well when he put it that way, I didn’t have much of a choice.

  “Bloodstream” played in the background while I lay on the sofa in a massive game room. My head was spinning deliciously and I felt sexy and very high. My head, nestled in Xavier’s lap, swam with unknown feelings and sensations.

  What I thought he was going to do was far from what he did do. He didn’t do drugs either—at least not illegal ones—but a couple of shots of Absolut followed by a bump of Oxy and I was high as a fucking kite. My skin felt electric to the touch and as he rubbed my arms, I wanted him to do more than just that.

  How could this be happening?

  I kept waiting to feel like I would overdose or an interaction of the two that would have me suffering from a horrible anxiety attack. I knew about the deadly effects of mixing two depressants together, especially those as addictive as both Oxy and alcohol.

  Fortunately, Xavier had studied to be a pharmacist and knew more about drugs than I did. He explained the exact combination he’d given me and how it was a low dose of Oxy and therefore not extremely hazardous to me. It would just calm me down and make me feel better.

  Every part of this experience felt surreal. It was too satisfying to my jaded mind, even when he sat me up and pulled me into his lap. I could feel the hardness of his cock pressed against me and I wondered if he would try anything. Had I walked from one trap right into another?

  He brushed my hair out of my face as his hands caressed my cheeks before they pulled me to him. Our lips met and a rush of adrenaline kicked in. I tried to back away but he was strong. It was only a kiss and I didn’t want to ruin my high so I gave in. My lips slightly parted while his own met mine and his tongue immediately sought mine out.

  His mouth tasted fresh and clean; the cologne he wore smelled of mint, lemon, green apples and a hint of vanilla. It was i
mpossible for me not to want to deepen the kiss just to get closer to him.

  Xavier pulled away and worked his mouth down my jaw and to the side of my neck where he sucked hard. The sensation was beyond amazing and for some reason if he’d asked me to lay down and spread my legs, against my better judgment, I probably would have done it.

  “What the fuck is going on here and why didn’t you tell us you were home?” Blaine exclaimed in anger.

  We separated but it wasn’t fast enough for him as he strode toward us, grabbed me and picked me up as if I weighed nothing.

  “What the fuck did you give her?”

  “It’s nothing,” I replied, my hands caressing Blaine’s face. “I forgive you for wanting to pass me around like a present. Am I? A gift or some such shit for Zed? Is it his birthday?”

  Blaine’s blue eyes coldly glared at Xavier. “What’s she on?”

  “Just vodka and Oxy,” I replied.

  “You fucking prick—you know people die from that shit, right? It’s the reason why Jocelyn isn’t here and you gave it to her? What the hell is going on in this house? You’re usin’ pharmaceuticals and Zed is high on coke and marijuana. Must I do everything around here myself for it to be done correctly?”

  His brother shrugged. “Not my problem she heard you two talking about her and was scared out of her wits. If I hadn’t sedated her like I did, she would have bolted. Thought I was doin’ you a favor—”

  “Next time, don’t!” Blaine turned around and carried me upstairs.

  I hummed to “Body Electric” playing in my head before being unceremoniously dumped on a bed. I sat up, expecting for it to be my suite but this one was overly formal and completely male, dominated by the colors chosen and the choice of furniture—or lack thereof.

  “Is this your room?”

  “Yes and no.” Blaine began to pace before he slammed one of the double doors in fury. “I rarely stay here. I have a loft and a studio in the Pacific Palisades and I stay there mostly. You know why? Sometimes I can’t handle their antics and this one goes beyond the pale. Giving you drugs? They both know I have absolutely no tolerance for that shit.”

  My adrenaline spiked again, and I stood before I strolled directly in the path he was pacing. “Maybe it’s because I had to hear how you have ‘zero fascination’ with virgins and how Zed was free to do what he wanted with me until you were ready to ‘break me in.’ Yeah, that was gonna make me feel real welcome downstairs so excuse-fucking-Xavier if he wanted to stop me from running because I would have if it wasn’t for him and the drugs.”

  He laughed out loud before his arm shot out and he wrapped his hand around my throat. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. Unless you wanna come with me to my loft. You can stay here or there. As for running . . . they’ll be none of that.”

  “Why? What are you going to do to me?” I shot back.

  “I will fucking break your neck like a breadstick.” He began to squeeze and my air supply was completely cut off. Being high and drunk, I was slow to react yet even if I’d been sober, there was no way I could have clawed him off of me.

  I finally gave up fighting and he let go. I dropped to the Persian rug like a rag doll and tried to catch my breath in a fit of coughing.

  Blaine was immediately over me, his body covering mine as he spread my legs and fitted himself between them. “Is that what you want? For me to break you in? Seriously? I don’t want to deal with broken hymens and what not. It hasn’t been my thing in a long time, not since I was sixteen. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let your first time be with Zed.”

  “What if I want you?” I questioned, my voice small.

  He leaned into me, his breath smelling minty fresh while his lips looked like they tasted of sin. “Listen to me, you don’t know what you want. A few minutes ago, you were all over Xavier like a cheap suit. Now you say you want me. This is the precise reason why I don’t fuck chicks who are high either. Sleep it off and then we can talk.”

  Blaine stood and left me there in the middle of the floor, utterly humiliated as I broke down and cried myself to sleep.

  I awoke to the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore while seagulls cawed in the background. My head felt stuffed with cotton wool and my mouth tasted like a pack of week old cigarettes had taken up residence. In one word, I felt like complete and utter shit.

  Unlike many people who got wasted in their lives and woke up not remembering what happened, I was one of the unfortunate—or fortunate, depending upon how you looked at it—ones. I recalled the previous day so clearly, I was ashamed of myself despite the fact I should have been angry and frustrated.

  Blaine had obviously brought my passed out form to his loft and it was there I was staying for the time being. A prisoner I suppose but that was too strong of a word. I could leave but if I did, innately I knew my actions would have consequences.

  This whole situation I’d brought on myself by acting TSTL—too stupid to live—and reckless. Since when had I not ever played it on the safe side? Yes, everyone had a wild side to them but there were some men a woman’s wild side should never come out and play with. I’d unfortunately met three of them in one day and to say I was well and truly fucked was putting my situation mildly.

  I crawled out of bed, wearing nothing but my Joan Jett t-shirt and a pair of string bikini panties. My bra and shorts were nowhere to be found, which meant Blaine had undressed me and tucked me into bed.

  I suddenly wondered if he’d touched me inappropriately but there wasn’t any pain or strange sensations other than my head pounding with a dull ache that only coffee and a couple of aspirin would alleviate. I felt like shit run over twice but I’d danced with the devil by mixing Oxycodone with alcohol and could live another day to tell the tale.

  The smell of coffee lured me from the bedroom past a large airy living room space and into the kitchen. The sun rose from the east, just beginning its ascent into the sky as I looked around the glass palace Blaine called his home.

  Most of the windows were open and I wondered if anyone could see me from the beach since I had a clear view of it from where I stood.

  “Good morning,” a male voice said into my ear as I turned around and faced Blaine.

  Although freshly showered, he hadn’t bothered to shave. He only wore a pair of low-slung white linen pants that fit him loosely. Like his brothers, he was built and obviously worked out and lifted weights though he wasn’t nearly as well defined as Xavier or Zed. While it was obvious he hit the gym regularly, he was lean and well rounded, preferring both cardio and weights.

  His chest was hairless—obviously waxed—while he possessed a right arm sleeve tattoo too but his was a mosaic pattern of shading that could not be discerned until mid-bicep where ancient Viking and Teutonic tribal symbols took over. It was a carefully orchestrated study in organized chaos but in some strange way, it was beautiful.

  I finally found my voice. “Morning.”

  “Coffee?”

  I yawned and realized my breath was still pretty rank. “Yeah, that’s perfect but let me . . .” I trailed off and walked towards his bathroom, which was easy enough to find.

  Grabbing a spare toothbrush head left out for me, I detached his from the mechanical toothbrush and began to brush my teeth after I applied a liberal amount of toothpaste.

  I needed to shower but knew that could wait until after I’d had coffee and we had a chat first. There was information I desperately needed to know and I wanted it now that I was perfectly sober.

  My situation couldn’t be romanticized in any way. How could I find something as repellant as two brothers using me for their own physical pleasure fulfilling at all? If I didn’t have a problem with sex, I would wish for one now. Fortunately, that wasn’t an issue but there was a lot about this situation I needed to know if I was going to stay the whole summer let alone any longer.

  Blaine owed me an explanation if nothing else at all.

  Chapter 5

  Bla
ine

  Blaine chopped fresh onions; along with green and red peppers to add to the omelets he was making for Vie and him. He’d already added ham and tomatoes to the two separate pans sizzling on the stovetop.

  He could have made their omelets together or one after the other but he cooked like he directed and lived his life: with ultimate expertise and calculated ease. It was better their omelets were cooked at the same time rather than separately. Plus, it kept him busy, and idle hands were the “Devil’s workshop,” according to his dear psychologically genius-level inclined parents.

  It was never a good idea for Blaine to think too much. He was an existentialist thinker in the extreme and both his parents were more afraid of producing the next Nietzsche than happy, healthy children.

  Vie finally emerged from his bathroom and sat down at the dining room table. She still wore only her t-shirt and panties as if she were quietly in defiance of every rule she’d ever made for herself.

  She would never know how he gazed at her breasts after he removed her bra but forbid himself the sensation of touch. He would have gone too far and losing control was the antithesis to his innate personality. He left the uncontrollable antics to Zed.

  Blaine turned to study her, which amounted to watching her drink the coffee he’d freshly poured for her before he returned his attention back to the cooking food.

  After adding the additional vegetables to each of their omelets, he topped them off with fresh Brie and goat cheese. Tossing them, he finished up and made sure each side was equally cooked before he turned the burners off and slid them onto fancy china he used on a regular basis.

  “I think you and I need to talk,” Vie began as she cleared her throat and he walked her plate over and set it in front of her.