that whisper of sound again.
Devon spun, his gaze dancing over the attic.
Again, the space was bisected and he was locked into a smaller corner of the attic.
There were doors in this corner. There were staircases behind those doors. He flung himself at the first one and jammed his card into the slot, pounding on the door when it didn’t open.
The flashing red light seemed to taunt him.
Devon was used to being the hunter, not the prey, and he didn’t like the change one bit.
* * *
Zach awakened in the middle of the night, startled by some sound. There was a rustling from behind the walls, and creaking from the ceiling above. Something bumped and fell and he heard a muffled cry. Did he hear voices? Running footsteps? The wall behind the bed was knocked hard from the other side.
Too loud for mice.
What was happening in Caitlyn’s room?
He sat up and surveyed the room, only recalling when he touched the heavy velvet drapes surrounding the four-poster bed that he was on Windswept Island. The fire had burned down to glowing coals and the room was chilly. It was strange that he could see his surroundings, though they were shadowed, because the lanterns were all extinguished. He’d made sure of that before he went to sleep.
He rolled over, following the source of the light, and stared.
The door that had been locked was open just a crack. That door had to lead to Caitlyn’s room, and there was golden light spilling through it.
Was she awake?
Was she okay?
He heard her moan softly, and the sound made him hard. He wanted to teach her to moan, to hear her beg, to know that he was the only one who could satisfy her. He wanted to train her to be his.
In the dark of the night, with Caitlyn’s soft moan carrying to his ears, anything seemed possible.
Zach rolled out of the bed and crept toward the open door. To his surprise, it actually opened into a narrow space between the walls. It was like a corridor, except that it ended at the exterior wall. In the other direction, there were stairs extending up into dark shadows. It might have been those steps creaking that he’d heard from the wall behind his bed.
There was another door about six feet away, on the other side of the corridor, which gave him a view of another bedroom similar to his own. He eased across the corridor and peeked into the room that had to be Caitlyn’s.
From the sound of her breath, she was sleeping. She moaned again softly and whispered something he couldn’t make out. No doubt after that séance, she was dreaming of Luke.
The oil lamp was on the table nearest to the door and it flickered at a low setting. Without it, the room would have been darker, lit only by the glowing coals on the hearth. Her room was decorated in pale blue and white. Her bed was draped in lace, in contrast to the heavy velvet drapes on his bed, and he could see her figure through the sheer cloth.
It looked as if she were naked.
Zach swallowed. He knew he shouldn’t be in her room. He knew he shouldn’t look at Caitlyn while she slept, especially as he knew he’d be tempted to do more than look. Maybe he was a nice guy, after all. He turned to leave, then his gaze fell on a coil of braided black leather rope. It appeared to have been dropped just inside the corridor beside the door to Caitlyn’s room. Next to it were a pair of black leather gloves and a length of black cloth that would make an excellent blindfold.
Maybe he was supposed to be in her room. Why else would this door suddenly be open, providing a passageway from his room to Caitlyn’s?
Maybe this was how her fantasy was supposed to get fulfilled.
He thought about Rex and The Plume, and how he’d seen things facilitated there. Was he supposed to take Luke’s place and stand in for his buddy for Caitlyn’s last night with him? It would be typical of Rex to have seen that such a scene might be Zach’s fantasy—and there had been that line in the contract about The Phoenix not being responsible for
Devon spun, his gaze dancing over the attic.
Again, the space was bisected and he was locked into a smaller corner of the attic.
There were doors in this corner. There were staircases behind those doors. He flung himself at the first one and jammed his card into the slot, pounding on the door when it didn’t open.
The flashing red light seemed to taunt him.
Devon was used to being the hunter, not the prey, and he didn’t like the change one bit.
* * *
Zach awakened in the middle of the night, startled by some sound. There was a rustling from behind the walls, and creaking from the ceiling above. Something bumped and fell and he heard a muffled cry. Did he hear voices? Running footsteps? The wall behind the bed was knocked hard from the other side.
Too loud for mice.
What was happening in Caitlyn’s room?
He sat up and surveyed the room, only recalling when he touched the heavy velvet drapes surrounding the four-poster bed that he was on Windswept Island. The fire had burned down to glowing coals and the room was chilly. It was strange that he could see his surroundings, though they were shadowed, because the lanterns were all extinguished. He’d made sure of that before he went to sleep.
He rolled over, following the source of the light, and stared.
The door that had been locked was open just a crack. That door had to lead to Caitlyn’s room, and there was golden light spilling through it.
Was she awake?
Was she okay?
He heard her moan softly, and the sound made him hard. He wanted to teach her to moan, to hear her beg, to know that he was the only one who could satisfy her. He wanted to train her to be his.
In the dark of the night, with Caitlyn’s soft moan carrying to his ears, anything seemed possible.
Zach rolled out of the bed and crept toward the open door. To his surprise, it actually opened into a narrow space between the walls. It was like a corridor, except that it ended at the exterior wall. In the other direction, there were stairs extending up into dark shadows. It might have been those steps creaking that he’d heard from the wall behind his bed.
There was another door about six feet away, on the other side of the corridor, which gave him a view of another bedroom similar to his own. He eased across the corridor and peeked into the room that had to be Caitlyn’s.
From the sound of her breath, she was sleeping. She moaned again softly and whispered something he couldn’t make out. No doubt after that séance, she was dreaming of Luke.
The oil lamp was on the table nearest to the door and it flickered at a low setting. Without it, the room would have been darker, lit only by the glowing coals on the hearth. Her room was decorated in pale blue and white. Her bed was draped in lace, in contrast to the heavy velvet drapes on his bed, and he could see her figure through the sheer cloth.
It looked as if she were naked.
Zach swallowed. He knew he shouldn’t be in her room. He knew he shouldn’t look at Caitlyn while she slept, especially as he knew he’d be tempted to do more than look. Maybe he was a nice guy, after all. He turned to leave, then his gaze fell on a coil of braided black leather rope. It appeared to have been dropped just inside the corridor beside the door to Caitlyn’s room. Next to it were a pair of black leather gloves and a length of black cloth that would make an excellent blindfold.
Maybe he was supposed to be in her room. Why else would this door suddenly be open, providing a passageway from his room to Caitlyn’s?
Maybe this was how her fantasy was supposed to get fulfilled.
He thought about Rex and The Plume, and how he’d seen things facilitated there. Was he supposed to take Luke’s place and stand in for his buddy for Caitlyn’s last night with him? It would be typical of Rex to have seen that such a scene might be Zach’s fantasy—and there had been that line in the contract about The Phoenix not being responsible for
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