Craving (29 page)

Chapter

~15
~

15.1 Dante

S
oft hair tickled my nose, and I shifted my head a fraction.
Kitten
. She lay spooned against me, face in the pillow, fingers tangled with my own. I ran a cautious hand up her side, skimming the soft curves to cup around her breast. She murmured in her sleep, and I inched closer to press as much of my naked body to hers as I could.

A wide stripe of daylight pierced the almost closed curtains to dissect our bed. I frowned and searched my memory. Where the fuck was I? This room looked familiar. I’d seen those curtains before. I recognized the gaudy pink flowers.

I dug into my fractured brain.
Alistair
.
Nan holding a knife to Kitten’s throat.
My chest tightened.
Eve
. I trawled some more.
Nan driving the knife into my shoulder.
I stretched my back, rolled both shoulders, turned my neck. No pain. No twinges at all.

No Talisman
. My wrist lay bare.

Kitten’s yawn hauled my attention back, and I took the opportunity to nuzzle her neck, kissing my way up to the sensitive spot behind her ear.

“You’re feeling better today, Angel.” Her voice gravelly with sleep.

“Feeling good,” I agreed. I flicked my thumb over her nipple, enjoying the shudder it produced. “You feel good too, babe.” My cock thought so as well. I flexed my hips and gave her a gentle nudge.

She giggled, a musical sound that wrapped around me. “You’re insatiable. Don’t you ever want to sleep?” She rolled over to face me, her amber eyes wide and amused. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Good.” I stole a kiss. “Sleep’s overrated anyway.” My fingertips traced the shape of her eyebrows, pushing back the heavy fall of hair. It tumbled forward again, and I curled a lock in the palm of my hand. It reminded me of something, and I frowned. It felt as though a giant door had been erected inside my head. One I didn’t have the key for.
Kitten’s hair sticking to her damp forehead
. I rubbed my eyes.

Kitten gazed at me and smiled. “How is the headache today?”

“Headache?” No pain there either.

Her eyes searched my face. “Do you remember any of it yet?” She cupped my cheek when I didn’t reply. “Concussion can do that. It might be weeks before it all comes back.”

Alistair drilling into Kitten’s skull.

I blinked. “Concussion?” I pushed some more at the door in my brain.
Nan holding my butterfly knife
. Was it all over? Had Alistair released me? Or… God. Please don’t say I sacrificed Josh after all? I dragged in an unsteady breath and prepared to ask Kitten. She nestled into my arms and ran one finger along the length of my cock, from root to tip. I hissed at the delicious sensation and reached for her, hungry to take her mouth, needing to bury myself deep inside her. This was what I’d longed for, and by God, I was going to take it.

15.2 Katherine

If I rocked the chair hard enough, it would topple over, taking me with it. A knife lay on the floor somewhere close. Find the knife, cut the ties. I
could
do this.

15.3 Josh

The quiet buzz of chatter woke me. I lifted heavy eyelids to see Suki, phone held to her ear, walking up and down the bedroom. Yawning, I listened to her side of the conversation.
Schedule details.
I tuned out. I felt beyond comfortable, as though I lay in the most luxurious bed ever. My gaze fell onto the bookshelves by the window. I didn’t remember filling them. All of our books were still stacked in boxes, or so I thought. I rubbed my forehead and shifted my gaze to stare out of the window. Soft rain pattered onto the glass. Hmm. Warm and cozy in bed, or… what should I be doing today?

Suki must have seen my movement because she turned to face me, a huge dimpled smile breaking across her face. A smile I hadn’t seen for some time.

“
Josh
.” She sucked in a quick breath. “I’ll call you back, Eric,” she murmured into the phone, before disconnecting and shoving it into her back pocket. “You’re awake, baby.” She knelt on the bed next to me. “How do you feel today?”

15.4 Katherine

Smashing into the floor drove every molecule of air out of my lungs. It took several gasps and wheezing coughs before I could breathe again. More dust cascaded down from the ceiling and set off another coughing fit.

The abandoned knife lay in a pile of rubble a few feet away.
Come on
, I yelled at myself. I jerked the chair as hard as I could. It moved a few inches. Dirt and hair fell into my eyes, but there was no way to wipe them clear. I took a deep breath and jerked the chair again. Slammed into the floor again. My side would be covered in bruises. The knife lay tantalizingly close. If I stretched, I might reach it.

I didn’t expect the lights to go out.

15.5 Dante

“Do you remember what happened to your Talisman, babe?” Kitten’s fingers danced over my naked wrist, pausing to draw tiny patterns over the snake tattoo. Sleepy, I watched the flash of her fingernails against the jewel colors of my ink.

“Josh,” I mumbled. “Where’s Josh?”

She stared up at me, her eyes darkening. I smiled at the sight of her lips, all lush and pink, and thoroughly well-kissed.

“Does Josh have it, Angel?”

Her tongue circled the snake’s head.

“I think so,” I mumbled. My eyes were drawn back to the window, to the familiar curtains. “Kitten, where are we? I’ve seen those before.” I jerked my chin to the window.

“Silly,” she giggled. “We’re at my place.” Her mouth closed over my thumb, sucking on it and distracting me. I tried to dig into my failing memories. Something was wrong with this picture.

Kitten shifted in bed and knelt over me, her hot tongue tickling across each tat in turn. It felt like heaven. For some reason I stared at the curtains again—what was significant about them? She reached my piercing, and I groaned, pure bliss and burning lust pushing away every thought from my head.

Every thought bar one.

Those curtains had been in her bedroom at her father’s house. Last time I saw that room, it had been empty.

15.6 Katherine

For one heart-stopping, brain-numbing, and paralyzing moment, I thought I’d died. I couldn’t see anything. Dust filled my nose, coated my eyes, and lined my throat. It was only the pains across my body and the pounding of my heartbeat that convinced me I was still alive.

Where was that damn knife? I fought the bubbling hysteria and made myself remember where I’d last seen it. When the chair tipped over, it had been to my left, and I’d moved since then. It
should
be right behind my back and near my hands.

I fumbled behind me, flexing and stretching my fingers, and scrabbling for anything. My nails brushed against something cold and hard. I paused, shifted myself a fraction, and then tried again. I had to get the knife first, before the bouncers. In the distance, I noted a cracking noise, followed by a low rumble that made the floor vibrate. Dear God, please don’t say the entire ceiling was coming down. We were underneath the main dance floor where hundreds of people had been rocking out a short time ago.

My fingers sifted through the dirt, groping desperately. Another stream of dust fell onto my face, and I whimpered, fear a tight ball in my chest. There it was. Hard and slender. A brief flash of anxiety that I might accidentally slice my hands open. A muffled groan from nearby spurred me on, and I closed my fingers around the object—yes! So far, so good. I knew I held the handle and from the way it felt weighted, I could work out where the blade was.

Sweat dripped into my eyes, making them sting. My palms were sticky, and I felt sure I’d drop the knife before I could do anything with it. Gingerly, I wiggled it to press the end against rope and then flexed my fingers to make a sawing motion. In the movies it looked easy.
They lie.
My heart raced, and I forced myself to breathe in and out, nice and slow, try to throttle back on my fear. The knife dug in, and I felt the rope give.
Yes
. I sawed again, trying to hurry and felt the edge nick one finger.
Slow down,
I told myself. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and tried to visualize what I was doing. More sawing. The tension eased some more. I tugged my wrists and felt them pulling on the rope. More finger flexing and cutting, and then I jerked my hands apart and felt them come loose. For a second, it didn’t register that I was free, my hands at least. I heard a dull clatter. I’d dropped the bloody knife.

Stay calm, I told myself. Both hands traveled cautiously over the floor, sweeping close to my body, and there it was again. Careful to pick up the knife, it was the work of moments to free my ankles.

Dante was somewhere in here. I had to find him before he bled to death.

15.7 Josh

“What did you do with your Talisman, babe?”

I glanced at my empty wrist. “It was in my pocket. Where’s my fleece?”

She smiled and slipped her arms around my neck. Her eyes sparkled with good humor. “I’ll get it for you, darling.” She nuzzled my face and kissed a trail up my cheek, pausing at my temple. “I’ve got some work to get out of the way first, but I’ll make a deal with you.”

“What are you thinking?”

“You go back to sleep, and I’ll go and get your fleece. Let me have the Talisman, and then we’ll stay here as long as you want.”

Her lips whispered over my eyelids, and I fought to stay awake. There was something important I had to say. My voice came out slurred, as if I were drunk. “Why do you want my Talisman, Suki?”

15.8 Dante

It felt as though my brain had been filled with cotton wool. Every thought took an age to process. My eyes locked onto Kitten. “
Your
place? You mean your Dad’s?”

Her smile was guileless. “Sure. He won’t be back for ages.”

An icy hand closed around my heart, and for a second I wanted to throw up. I steeled my voice to sound hard. “I don’t know how you’ve done this, Alistair. This isn’t real.”

Kitten’s eyes widened. She lifted one hand to her mouth, and silence hung between us.

Bile rose in my throat. “You’re not real, Kitten.”

“What do you mean? Angel, I—”

I cut her off and pushed back the duvet to scramble out of bed. “
Alistair
.” I yelled. “Get the
fuck
out of my head.”

15.9 Katherine

I knew it was Dante by the feel of his jacket. I needed some light to find out how badly he was bleeding—the solution was obvious. My tiny handbag still hung off my shoulder and my phone was inside. Seconds later, the screen lit up and cast a tiny patch of light. Not enough to help Dante, hardly enough to see through the gloom. A creaking noise suggested more of the ceiling would soon be coming down. I tried to dial the emergency services, but there wasn’t any signal.

“Please, baby, wake up.” I slapped his cheek. “
Dante
.” Nothing. “Angel, wake up, we
have
to leave.”

Dante’s eyes snapped open. The intensity of his gaze seared me, even through the near darkness. I sank to the floor, shaky with relief and smiled at him through my tears. “Can you move? We need to get out of here.”

He lurched back, shoving himself away from me and scrambled to his knees. “Fu-
uck
.” Hunching over, he turned his head to look at me. “My shoulder hurts.” He sounded pleased.

I scrubbed a filthy hand over my eyes and lifted the phone to cast the light toward him.

“Nanette did that. Can you get up, Angel? We need to help Josh.”

Breath rasping, he slowly stood up. “What the fuck happened in here?” He looked at me fully. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Yes.” More tears threatened. “I will be.”

“Alistair?”

“I don’t know.” Another stream of debris cascaded from above, and I ducked instinctively. Stepping forward, I stumbled on something and bent down to feel with my hands.
A leg
. I flashed the phone to my feet and saw it was Nanette. As far as I was concerned, she could stay here. The crazy bitch had tried to kill me.

Dante had other ideas though. He staggered to her and bent, trying to pick her up. “Help me, babe.”