by Logan Fox
She jerked, spinning to face him.
“How did you get out? The doors are supposed to be locked at night.”
Pearl’s mouth opened. She shrugged. “It was open.” Another shrug. “I just wanted some fresh air. I’d had too much tequila.”
“You should start adding that to the questionnaire,” Tanner said, leaning over the table to address Caden a few chairs down from him. “Alcohol consumption.” He stabbed his thumb toward Pearl. “Never knew we employed such lightweights.”
Caden ran a hand through his hair and let out an expressive sigh, the quick glance he threw toward Pearl suggesting she would soon regret being such a nuisance to him.
There was a clang from the grill. The chef turned around with a tray of meat in her hands. Startling blue eyes swept over the crowd as the woman came close enough to slam the tray onto the table.
“Eat!”
Two foxes jumped up and went to the fridge, grabbing out large glass bowls filled with salad. They tore off the plastic wrap and placed the salads down the center of the table, conversation cropping up in their wake.
Pearl ran her eyes over the Fox Pit’s employees and owners, feeling utterly disembodied as happy chatter and laughter and the smell of barbecued meat closed over her.
How could they all be so blasé?
The foxes all gleamed, eyes wide as they dished up piles of food. The two foxes beside Tanner seemed insistent on seducing him, one holding his thigh, the other leaning in to whisper something into his ear. He laughed at them and snagged a chicken drumstick as the meat passed him by, biting into it with the enthusiasm of a ravenous wolf.
Her eyes ended their sweep on Seth.
He was staring at her, black orbs unreadable beneath his thick eyebrows. Setting his elbows on the table, he seemed unaware of the lithe blond beside him stacking meat and salad on his plate. His wife? She was the only woman except the chef not wearing yellow at the table.
When their eyes met, Seth ducked his head and pressed his mouth against his laced-together hands while his wife tried to maneuver around his bulky arms to dish up his food. Then, as if reaching some conclusion, Seth shook his head and tugged his elbows off the table, twisting to give his wife a deep smile before turning his attention to his plate.
Pearl took a deep breath and ran her palms down her thighs.
The sound of cutlery on crockery almost drowned out their conversations and clinking glasses. Pearl kept catching glimpses of Ethan studying her from the corner of his eyes and tried to ignore it.
She couldn’t think about him. She couldn’t think about Seth, or Tanner, or Caden. She definitely couldn’t think about Jarred.
No, she had only one thing to think about right now: how the fuck she was going to break out of the Fox Pit.
End of Book One
II
Blank Check
“The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.”
Joseph Conrad
Prologue
Return to Earth
The girl awoke in a dimly-lit chamber with candles flickering on the walls. At first, she screamed, thinking it was the dungeon; that room where every perverse act she could muster enough courage to remember was performed on her. Where she was forced to perform just as debase acts in return.
But then her eyes adjusted. The room swam into focus.
It had no windows, like the dungeon.
And, like the dungeon, those wavering candles provided the room’s sole illumination.
But, unlike the dungeon, this place reeked of ceremony and ritual. There was no shrine, but she knew this place for the altar room it was. Her skin rose in a flurry of goosebumps as she drew in on herself, eyes flashing over the bare walls, the stone dais, the row upon row of pews. That dais hadn’t always been empty; she’d once seen a majestic elk, carved from pale marble, frozen in its center its shoulders and horns supporting the weight of another thick slab of marble.
That had been eons ago.
Why had they brought her here?
Could such a person exist? Someone so caught up in their own hedonistic pleasures that the thought of sacrilege became just another kink to them?
The girl shuddered and brought a shaking hand to her face, touching the tender edges of her bruise.
That fist had held not a shred of remorse. It had been intended to knock her out, and it had done its job to perfection — she could remember nothing of her trip here.
A door shuddered open. Footsteps approached. Her back stiffened and she peered reluctantly over her shoulder. A cloaked figure drew near, hood casting his face in deep shadow. He was tall, taller than anyone she knew, with wide shoulders and a long-legged stride that quickly closed the distance between them.
They’d left her on the floor, a few paces from the first step leading up to the empty dais. The figure drew to a halt less than a foot away from her, but the pathetic illumination in the room could not pierce the shadows cloaking his face. The hood tilted. She could feel a pair of eyes, hidden in that oval of darkness, latch onto her, scan her.
“They tell me you ran.”
The girl jerked, her heart squeezing painfully. She recognized that voice.
“I… I don’t want—” Her rasping voice trembled.
“It doesn’t matter what you want. It never did.” He lifted his hands, his thumbs briefly flaring away from his palms. “Don’t you understand? It’s about what I want. About what I need. Your wants are inconsequential.”
A tear straggled down her cheek. The figure crouched down in front of her, reaching toward her with a long-fingered hand gloved in grey.
“You will not run from me, princess.”
That finger touched her cheek, the soft fabric of the glove absorbing her tear; even those didn’t belong to her anymore.
A sob racked her shoulders. More tears blurred her vision. She ducked her head forward, bowing as resistance failed her.
“If you ever again feel an urge to escape, then just remember this…” another slow stroke down her cheek. “Whenever a toy in my family breaks,” the man whispered, “I throw it away.”
The girl brought her hands up and cupped her face. Her fingertips dug into her hairline, bringing a stab of pain from the angry bruise on her cheekbone.
“So don’t force me to break you, princess.”
His hand slid around her throat. There was a faint click as something closed around her neck. Her hands slid down, gripping the strip of satin. A smell of roses tickled her nose before it clogged up with more tears.
“Because then I’ll have to throw you away,” said the wolf.
1
Amazeballs
A hundred thousand dollars had seemed like a lot of money at the time. For a month of having sex with strangers, dressed in fox ears and accessories?
A veritable fortune.
But now?
Now it wasn’t nearly enough. Not with the threat of death looming in the air like some post-apocalyptic cloud of nuclear fallout. Now, a hundred thousand dollars felt less like a paycheck and more like a goddamn insurance payout. In case of death, please claim your—
“Could you pass the potato salad?”
Pearl jumped at the voice, so close beside her. She blinked at Ethan a few times. Had his eyes always been this green? This… calculating?
She grabbed the bowl of salad and dragged it closer, watching him spoon a ladle onto his plate.
All the men at the table had voracious appetites, it seemed: both for food and women.
Her gaze ambled over the table.
Tanner, Fox Pit’s Numero Uno, couldn’t seem to decide which of the two pretty foxes sitting beside him he preferred. They, on the other hand, looked eager to share him.
Close beside him sat Caden, Numero Dos. Fox Pit’s most efficient pervert. Okay, maybe not a pervert, but he was a dick, through and through. A handsome, brooding dick with his dark hair and blue eyes, but a dick nonetheless.
Her
eyes latched onto Seth. The waif of a girl beside him, all legs and swan neck, looked fragile — almost brittle — beside him. And God, was the chick clingy. She draped herself over Seth’s shoulder, alternating between stroking his beard and massaging the muscles on his arm.
Almost like he’d massaged Pearl. When had that been? Yesterday? A year ago?
Seth’s onyx eyes fixed on her. Pearl stared back, feeling a worm of uncertainty wriggling deep inside her. Did he know about those girls?
Her gaze tore away, settling on Tanner again. He was whispering — something lewd no doubt, from the crooked set of his lips — into the dark-haired fox’s ear.
Did he know about the dead bodies?
Her eyes moved reluctantly back to Caden. He had his phone out, hipster glasses reflecting a square of bright white as he worked the touchscreen.
He had to know. He knew everything. He probably knew exactly how much this brunch cost, the combined finances of every girl around the table, and the current value of the Fox Pit mansion — in gold. Or oil.
Her gaze switched to the new girls, those she’d never seen or met before. The ones that lived in the other wing of the Fox Pit; like mirror images of her, Morgan, Opal, Ivy, and Gia.
Gia. On cue, the girl giggled. She was plying the dark stranger a few seats down from Pearl with an anecdote that curled his lip into a bemused smirk.
Jarred. She’d known him all of ten minutes. Impossible to tell anything about the dark wedge of a man other than the fact that he had money. As much — maybe even more — as the other two owners of the Fox Pit.
Numero Tres.
Yet, somehow, he had the air of Commander. Master.
A Dom, well versed in the skilled application of whips to wanting backsides.
Somehow, the idea of that implacable face watching as he spanked someone didn’t fit. It made everything seem unreal and twisted in this place.
But wasn’t it already?
Pearl took a long swallow of her drink. Good to remember: alcohol numbed the senses. Maybe it would numb her rampaging mind, stilling the flurry of repetitive questions.
Why had she ever said yes?
Why hadn’t she left when she’d been given the chance?
And why, oh why, was everyone sitting around the table acting as natural as can be when girls were being murdered?
Fox Pit girls.
“Too hungover to eat?” Ethan asked, tapping the side of his fork against her untouched plate.
Pearl gave him a sideways glance, frowning. “Yup. Booze does that to you.” She lifted her glass. “Hair of the dog.”
“Try a greasy breakfast.” Ethan used the fork to indicate toward a pile of steaming, dripping meat. “Some of those fattier—”
“I’m fine, really. Thanks.” Pearl twisted a little, unintentionally facing Tanner and Caden head-on.
God, but they had some nerve. How could she have gone along with all of this?
No. No more questions. It was time to start figuring out how the hell she was going to get herself out of this. Out of here.
Her eyes slid to the gentle slopes of the hills surrounding the Fox Pit. Yup, they’d definitely chosen this place with care: the landscape formed a basin around the mansion, shielding prying eyes and making escape by anything other than air close to impossible. The only way out was through the front gate, the route driver Henry had used to get her in. All while plotting—
No. She had to believe that she hadn’t been in the car with a rapist on her entire trip over here. For sanity’s sake.
“You have a boyfriend back home, Pearl?”
Ethan again. He seemed intent on making friends with her: no surprise, after learning she’d been in the garden with him last night. He was fishing, trying to figure out if she’d overheard his conversation with what she’d concluded could only be the police chief of whatever fucking state she was in. Or, maybe this was something on a federal level already? Who knew how these things worked.
“Yup,” Pearl tossed her head. “He loves the fact that I bang rich men for money. It keeps him warm and fuzzy at night.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’. And as a ‘fuck off.’”
Pearl shrugged. Finally. It had only taken a light bludgeoning with sarcasm to bring her point across.
She resumed her study of the members of the Fox Pit; employees and owners alike.
Henry might have been able to help her. Except he’d turned out to be a bigger pervert than all these men combined: an exceedingly difficult task, but one he’d easily achieved. But they had to have a driver, right? These rich guys had to have someone to do their bidding — like her — and drive around fetching girls and stuff they needed.
Who would replace Henry?
And could she convince him to smuggle her out of here in his trunk?
More questions, but these were productive so she allowed them to fester and multiply.
Okay, so she’d try and contact the new driver, whenever she could sneak out of the Fox Pit and track him down.
God, don’t let him be another screwball like Henry.
And then what? Have him drop her off at the closest town, hope she could catch a bus out? She didn’t have anything: all her stuff had been whisked away when she’d arrived.
So she had to track down her suitcase. Her phone. Her wallet. Cheryl could transfer her some money, right? Which she could use to buy a bus ticket. A ticket to freedom.
How long before Caden knew she was gone?
Pearl’s eyes flickered to the man, still engrossed with his phone. His plate didn’t hold dripping piles of burnt flesh. Oh no. Not Mr. Health Nut. He had a green salad, something organic-looking that probably contained chickpeas, and a hunk of whole wheat bread. No butter. Butter was for fat people.
How long, Caden? How long before he turned his attention away from his phone or his computer and realized she was gone? An hour? Two?
Unless she left on her day off. Her day of rest. No one would be looking for her then, right? Not unless Tanner wanted to see her.
Maybe she’d have to make a plan to see him first. Satiate him of her so he wouldn’t have any reason to call on her. Her gaze swept past two doting foxes and fixed on Tanner.
He had his arms around both girls now, allowing one of them to feed him cherry tomatoes from his plate. His vegetarian streak looked to have ended: he had two chicken drumsticks in front of him, waiting to be devoured.
It would take a lot to satiate him. Like trying to extinguish a volcano with a glass of water. But she had to try. She had to give herself reason to hope.
Which left Seth.
For a moment, her eyes refused to move from Tanner. Not that he captivated her: his rugged charm was as fake as Caden’s pretence at emotions. No, Tanner’s sandy hair and gray eyes didn’t stir a thing inside her.
But she knew something would begin sparking when she looked at Seth.
Instead, Pearl grabbed a chicken wing from the serving tray in front of Ethan, giving him a forced smile as she did.
No reason to piss off the cop.
She might need him.
After another torturous hour, Pearl had given up hope of ever leaving the patio when Jarred rose smoothly to his feet a few seats down.
“Delicious as always, Scotty,” the man murmured, directing this to the cook at the far end of the table. The woman shot to her feet and bobbed her red head at him.
Jarred turned to Tanner, gave him a nod of his head — which Tanner returned with a cocky salute — and then Caden, who gave him a deeper nod in return.
He left on his own, which surprised Pearl more than the diffidence Tanner and Caden had shown the man. In fact, he’d barely spoken with any of the foxes or the owners. Hadn’t Seth said he was an owner? But he seemed so aloof, so distant from all of this.
“Did you see those arms?” Ethan said, as if to himself. “Can’t imagine what it feels like being switched by him.”
“Switched?” Pearl kept her voice a
s low as Ethan’s, casting the man a furtive glance as she reached for her glass.
“You know: whips and stuff. That’s what Doms do: they beat people.”
“But with their permission, right?”
“Yeah. Supposedly. Who the fuck knows, right?” Ethan shook his head and downed the last of his drink. He cleared his throat, looking past Pearl toward Seth. “Hey man, you got a minute?”
Seth froze, his black eyes flickering to Pearl before returning to Ethan. Then he shrugged, the gesture quite expressive on a man with shoulders as broad as his. His slip of a wife clung to him for a moment, refusing to release him, but he peeled her fingers from his bicep with the gentlest of touches and gave her a quick kiss to her forehead.
Pearl watched as the two men disappeared inside the Fox Pit, her stomach coiling uneasily. Why had Seth looked at her like that? And what did Ethan want to speak to Seth about? Was it about last night? Did he want to grill the guy to see if Pearl had been within earshot of the labyrinth? What if Seth—
Air moved beside Pearl. She stiffened, half-expecting Tanner to be taking a seat next to her. More than expecting to turn and see his crooked smile.
“It’s Pearl, right? I’m Tina. I also just started here.”
Pearl turned to the girl, managing an unsteady nod. “Hi, Tina.”
“So, this place is beautiful, right?” Tina gave her a smile that looked surprisingly genuine. “I mean, this has nothing on Miami. You wouldn’t think it, ‘cos I mean, Miami, but this place is amazeballs.”
Pearl didn’t want to talk to Tina. She wanted to figure out what the hell Seth and Ethan were talking about and how it would affect her budding escape plans.
“Sure,” Pearl murmured, avoiding eye contact with the girl.
Tina persisted; perhaps it was just her nature, or perhaps she was purely starved for some sense of camaraderie in the weirdness that was the Fox Pit. Pearl had been… two, three days ago.