by Logan Fox
“No visitors today, Suze,” Tanner called out behind his shoulder, nearly deafening Pearl. “Pretend I’ve got a big X on my calendar.”
“Better make that a triple-X,” Tina added with a giggle.
Tanner laughed at this — he laughed at a lot of Tina’s jokes — and then brought his lips to Pearl’s ear. “Why couldn’t you be more like her?”
“’Cos then she wouldn’t be Pearl,” Tina cut in, scowling playfully at Tanner. “She’d be Tina version 2.0.”
“You make me want to get drunk and play Twister, baby girl,” Tanner said, releasing Pearl.
“Strip?” Tina cocked an eyebrow at Tanner, effortlessly dodging Tanner’s grasping fingers. “It’s the only kind I play.”
“Strip Twister it is.”
He made a grab for Tina as Pearl stepped back and lifted her arms, ready to claw at him if he came for her. Instead, Tina squealed and tried dodging again, failing.
Linking arms with the giggling girl, Tanner cast Pearl a considering look over his shoulder and then cocked his head at her. “Well, my little wet blanket. Are you coming?”
“Not yet,” Tina murmured.
Tanner slapped Tina on the ass. They disappeared into one of the sitting rooms, seeming to have forgotten about Pearl. Which was perfect, because if she could—
She turned around and almost walked straight into Suzie. The girl had been following close behind Pearl, a faint glower on her pretty face.
“Go on,” Suzie said, making a shooing gesture with her hands. “The sooner you start, the sooner it ends. Don’t you know that by now?”
Pearl did. But it didn’t make stepping into that sitting room any better. Didn’t make forcing that cold, coiling dread out of her stomach any easier.
Didn’t make facing Tanner’s sultry smile any less frightening.
Strip Twister, it turned out, was actually quite fun. Especially when you incorporated tequila and what Tanner claimed was Durban Poison. It certainly smacked Pearl hard enough between the eyes for Tanner to have called it anything he liked.
“Yellow?” Pearl asked.
“Left hand to yellow,” Suzie said with a sigh.
Her gaze was bleary and unfocused; apparently the inane moral code Tanner applied to Suzie didn’t extend to drugs, alcohol, or watching three partially-naked people play Twister.
The game operated on the same principle as Strip Poker; you lost a turn, clothing came off. If the spinner landed on red or a player slipped, clothes came off, you chugged a shot of tequila, and took another hit from the soggy joint Suzie guarded.
Pearl’s pole dancing had paid off: she’d only slipped once. And that had been because Tanner had pushed her. Which he claimed had been an accident. And, because of the extensive state of his intoxication — and hers — she believed wasn’t an outright lie. So she was down to her underwear and if she told herself was a pathetic excuse for a bathing suit it made contorting herself into weird positions in close proximity to Tanner and Tina that much more bearable.
Tina was losing on purpose. Neither she nor Pearl had started out with much clothing — just the Fox Pit’s standard yellow dress — and she was down to just her panties.
Tanner had only lost his shirt so far. That blazing orange dissolving-fox tattoo kept drawing Pearl’s eyes. Reminding her of the day he’d tried to strangle her.
Of the thing she’d seen — hallucinated — at the Fox Pit’s gate when she’d tried to escape.
She had to have hallucinated.
Things like that didn’t exist.
Murderers existed.
And she was possibly playing Twister with one.
She giggled, pressed her eyes closed, and tried to force calm into herself. Giggling led to muscle weakness, which led to slipping, which led to losing clothing. So no laughing. Anyway, she’d probably — maybe — established that Tanner wasn’t a murderer.
Pearl spotted a yellow circle on the far side of Tanner. He was trying to crowd her off the playing field, moving like a snake to stake out the circles closest to Pearl. Her only option was to flip onto her back — which would at least sort out her twisted legs — and hope she didn’t fall over.
This, while avoiding Tina’s outstretched legs. The girl had perfectly manicured toenails — French — with short, cute little toes.
Pearl’s tree-climbing toes looked deformed in comparison.
“Tick-tock, baby girl.” If Tanner was straining under the effort of balancing his contorted body, he wasn’t showing it.
Oh, yes. Take too long, and you had to drink. Which to her didn’t make any sense; the reason she was taking so long was because of her addled brain trying to make sense of this game. Adding more alcohol wouldn’t help.
Pearl took a breath, lifted her hand and twisted her back. The world spun for a moment — upside-down Tanner frowned at her — and then her hand was on the yellow circle.
“Impressive,” Tanner murmured. His head was inches from hers, his right arm under her arched back.
“Yeah, but how long can she stay like that?” Suzie called out. “I need to pee.”
“We’ll wait,” Tanner said. His face looked weird, upside down — the slant of his eyes more distinct now. “Hurry though.”
“Spin one before you go!”
Pearl glanced across at Tina. Her and Tanner’s legs were interlaced, her breasts squeezed between her crisscrossed upper arms.
Suzie sighed. “Fine.” The spinner clattered. “Ha! Red. Good luck, Pearl.”
Pearl watched an inverted Suzie walk past en-route to the bathroom. She straightened, glaring at Tanner’s silently-laughing face.
“You’re going to fall over if you keep laughing like that,” Pearl muttered.
“Hey, does this mean I win?” Tina asked. A scrap of yellow fluttered down, sliding off Pearl’s stomach and landing between her and Tanner.
“Geez,” Pearl said.
Tanner was still laughing to himself, eyes squeezed shut.
Pearl adjusted her weight, freeing up her left hand. She quickly fumbled behind her, searching for the clasp of her bra. Her hand slammed down again, clasp still firmly in place.
“Fuck.” She blinked at upside-down Tanner.
He was grinning at her, lips quivering as if he was struggling to hold back outright laughter.
“Stop gawking. This is hard enough as is.”
“Not gawking. Admiring. I’m intrigued to see how you’re going to get yourself out of this mess.”
For a moment, she wasn’t that sure he was talking about their game of Strip Twister anymore. His expression had slipped into something solemn — uncanny on his laugh-lined face — as he watched her.
“Like I always do,” Pearl said. “Cunning and determination.”
“Stubbornness,” Tanner amended.
“Willfulness.” Pearl glared at him.
“Bull-headedness.”
“I think that means the same thing as stubborn,” Tina cut in. “Listen, The Gamekeeper’s on her way back. Do you want another smack from her, Pearl?”
Pearl didn’t: Suzie had an impressive swing for such a slip of a thing. Drawing a deep, invigorating breath, she shifted her weight again, got her left arm behind her, and snapped her bra’s clasp free. With a furious wriggle, she slipped the strap off her arm and quickly set her palm on the playing field again. One more arm to go. She leaned to the left, tugged at her shoulder strap, and whipped the bra off.
“Ha!” She dangled the yellow thing in Tanner’s face. “Your turn.”
“Already done, baby girl.”
Her gaze swept past Tanner’s bunching shoulders to his briefs. He had to work out at least some days, that or have very acrobatic sex to have such well-defined deltoids.
Dammit.
“So Tina’s won, right?” Suzie said as she came back in the room. “Isn’t the point to get naked?”
“Last man standing,” Tanner said. He gave Pearl another voracious grin. “Or woman, obviously.”
&nbs
p; “Obviously,” Pearl said through gritted teeth.
“Right foot to green.”
There was a frantic scramble.
“Uh-uh!” Suzie appeared at the edge of Pearl’s vision. “Tanner, Pearl got to it first. Move.”
“Fuck,” Tanner murmured. “Suze, babes, where’s another—”
“Cheater!” Tina yelled.
“Shut it.” Tanner tipped his head down, searching below him for another green circle.
Pearl grinned at him. “There’s one. You can reach if you try really hard.”
“One backbend and you’re suddenly Queen of Twister,” Tanner muttered.
Pearl shifted her hands to maintain her balance as Tanner maneuvered his leg around hers, his knee to his chest. He shot her a glower, and then let his eyes slide down her body.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?
Pearl pressed her lips together. “Next fucking circle, Suzie.”
Another sigh. “Left hand to green.”
Pearl flipped over, already knowing Tanner would be going for the same circle as her. Their heads knocked together with an audible crack, and they both crashed to the playing mat, balance gone. Pearl was laughing so hard, she couldn’t make out Suzie’s shouting or Tina’s victorious crowing.
Tanner recovered before her, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He beckoned her over, eyes flashing briefly up to where Suzie stood.
“Game over?” the girl asked, dangling the spinner by its dial.
“Consolation prize for me and Pearl,” he said. “Hand over that roach, will you?”
The joint appeared in his hands as if by magic. Pearl had gotten her laughter under control — barely — and watched as he cupped his hand over the dog end, flicked the Zippo into flame, and took a deep hit from the roach. Pearl held out her hand, her other resting on her trembling abdomen. Ripples of laughter still wormed their way through her but, after wiping her eyes, she could breathe without interruption.
Tanner pursed his lips, glanced down at Pearl where she lay with her back on the mat, and then handed the joint to Tina.
Pearl’s face fell as those onyx fingernails snatched up the scrap of joint. “Hey! That was—”
Tanner bent his head and pressed his lips against Pearl’s. She took in a short, shocked breath, tipped her head away, and coughed out the dank smoke.
Then she turned back to him. Tanner’s lips were parted, a trickle of smoke leaking from the corner of his mouth and slithering up his face like a lethargic snake.
She lifted her head and touched her lips to his. Her reward was a slow, warm stream of smoke. Inhaling greedily, she pressed her mouth harder against his. The smoke itched and clawed at her lungs, yearning for release, but he seemed to have bellows for lungs. Her muscles twitched and a tiny, urgent noise came from her throat.
Tanner pulled away, a wisp of smoke obscuring his mouth. Pearl blinked lazily, slowly exhaling the weed in a thin, pale stream. Tina’s face appeared above her, the girl’s lips parting in hungry anticipation as Tanner turned to her.
They kissed, puffs of smoke escaping their ferocious mouths as they devoured each other.
From where she lay, it looked as sinful as a Death-by-Chocolate sundae. And twice as nice.
Pearl pushed up to her elbows. This was a perfect opportunity for her to slip away unnoticed. The two were so caught up in the movements of their lips, they probably wouldn’t realize she was gone until tomorrow morning when they woke up sticky and hungover.
But the weed had bowled over her mind like a feather. She was incapable of movement, incapable of flight. More than that — her lips were tingling furiously where Tanner’s mouth had touched hers. And that electric kiss had shot through her entire body like a bolt of lightning and had immobilized her.
Had left her wanting more.
Because now, here, with her mind wreathed in a purple haze of intoxication, Tanner was a wind-swept Adonis, his muscles trembling with passion and a barely-contained, hedonistic lust that was as catching as the Black Plague.
She wanted to touch him. Wanted to run her fingers—
Pearl blinked. Her fingertips quivered against Tanner’s bicep. He seemed not to notice the touch yet, perhaps still too caught-up with Tina’s mouth. Pearl jerked away her hand, pressing it instead to her throat as she tried to force that memory to return, the one where he was strangling her.
He was dangerous. Deadly, even. He couldn’t be trusted for anything other than brutality and violence. There wasn’t a shred of gentleness about him. To convince herself of anything else was just—
But she wanted to feel. Him. Tina. Their passion. So close, so intoxicating, so real.
Her fingertips brushed his shoulder — tracing the outlines of a laughing, open-mouthed skull. Did he stare at himself in the mirror, his gaze moving over all these patterns and artworks as he dried his hair with a towel? Or were they to him like her freckles and beauty marks were to her? Just background noise, so familiar as to be written off?
A tiny bird, caught in flight, spanned the gap between the skull and a twisting, abstract symbol.
“Harder,” Tanner murmured.
Pearl’s gaze shot up. His eyes — the grey of an overcast sky’s reflection on a becalmed ocean — were fixed on her. Tina nuzzled his neck, her claw-tipped hand caressing the hard lines of his jaw.
Nothing but brutality and violence; she’d forgotten, again.
“Or were you trying to tickle me?”
She drew her hand away, rolling onto her side. Whatever spell she’d been under had broken — snapping around her like the shredded remains of a popped party balloon. Her ears rang, her heart giving a hard thump against her breastbone.
Idiot. She could have been out of the door by now. Downstairs, safe. Instead—
Tanner’s hand caught hold of her upper arm, halting her. He tugged. Her ass skidded over the mat. It was slick with sweat — hers, theirs — but not slick enough. Her shoulder slapped into Tanner’s pec, her out-flung arm slamming into Tina’s waist.
The girl caught hold of her too, drawing herself closer until Pearl’s arm nestled between her breasts. Tina’s hot breath touched the side of her neck, forcing goose bumps out over Pearl’s skin. Tanner’s rum-and-coconut cologne tickled her nose, overpowering, sickening.
“Where you going?” Tina whispered in her ear.
“Nowhere,” Tanner said, pressing a feather-light kiss against Pearl’s neck.
Pearl tore herself free of them, scrambled onto her knees, and scooped her dress from the floor mid-flight. She crashed into the side of the door frame as she stumbled from the room. The floor was bucking like an unbroken horse beneath her feet as she tried to distinguish up from down and left from whatever the fuck other direction there was.
She expected them to call out after her, but there was nothing except the roar of blood in her ears. The air filled with the smell of freshly baked bread. The kitchen.
A flash of memory speared into her mind — Tanner, grimacing at her as a trickle of blood drew a sinuous line down his cheek.
Pearl veered, pushed away from the wall as her legs tangled under her, and headed for a doorway. Beyond it, darkness beckoned like an old, shadow-hooded friend. It would swallow her. Vanish her. Hide her and keep her safe.
But from who? Tanner? The Fox Pit murderer?
Her head reeled.
From Seth.
No, that was ludicrous. The man didn’t have an evil bone in his body. He was the stereotypical strong and burly softie. He’d made that clear to her. Gia’d been fucked in the head.
But Gia’d also disappeared days before she was supposed to have. Did that mean that someone had disposed of her? Everyone had been present in the past few days: Caden, Tanner…
Jarred?
Pearl’s stomach lurched. She hesitated, swaying unsteadily in the corridor leading to that dark rectangle. What was she doing? She should be heading outside, not further in. This was a maze—
A flash of
memory, of a dream she’d never had — the maze.
A slim-hipped woman dusted with reddish fur. The kitsune, twisting to glance at Pearl over a slender shoulder. Pearl’s own blue-grey eyes blinking at her, perfectly framed by lucid green foliage and a sharp, elongated face.
Jarred hadn’t been at brunch today. He was at brunch last week. Where had he been?
Had he been with Gia?
Somehow, the thought of Jarred hurting anyone was as difficult to process as Seth the Strangler.
Raised voices behind her. Pearl surged forward, narrowly avoiding this door frame — the things really had it out for her — as she bustled into the room. She tried slipping her dress over her head. It twisted and caught around her head and shoulders, blinding her. Something underfoot tripped her.
She sprawled to the floor, crawling forward, alternating between trying to get into her dress and moving deeper into the welcoming shadows.
A flailing hand encountered something solid, wooden.
Tanner’s bed.
Pearl flinched, drawing back. A final, hard tug freed her dress. It slithered over her torso, skirt draping over her lap.
Tanner’s room. Always dark, always a mess. What idiotic compunction had led her here?
Fate — the bitch wearing a light dusting of auburn fur and Pearl’s own eyes.
Pearl turned around, hoisting herself to her feet using the foot of the bed for support. Tanner leaned against the door frame, still wearing just his white briefs. How long had he been standing there, watching her? He smiled at her with predatory idleness as he straightened and stepped inside the room.
“You’re right,” he said, avoiding the tangles of clothing scattered over the floor as if he had a map in his head. “The living room floor is no place to ravish a lady like you.”
She didn’t imagine the sarcasm in his voice, or the rapacious gleam in those stormy grey eyes.
Pearl scrambled onto the bed, realized that was exactly where Tanner was herding her toward, and hastily slid off the other side. Trying to keep something between her and the smiling billionaire wasn’t working — he lunged, catching her midway between the door and the bed and blocking her. Her eyes flashed to the left, glancing at the balcony door. The shades were drawn closed, but a sliver of sunlight gleamed through the glass.