Bound by Obsession (Shadowed Souls #2)

33. Chapter Thirty Three

L ying on my stomach across my bed, my legs swing to and fro as I mindlessly scroll through my phone’s old photos. I rarely take pictures, given that most days at the manor were a carbon copy of each other, but it’s a habit I plan on breaking.

At least Meg had no such qualms. She often took my phone hostage, snapping photos from our perfect summer breaks and endless weekend sleepovers. It’s a wonder we didn’t get bored, but there was always a new series to binge, reading marathons to do, picnics to have on the grounds. In our later years, Meg started to introduce me to her friends and that’s when the mischief started.

I smile at one of those photos now, our huge smiles beaming out from a crowd of basic strangers. Everyone is in their swimwear, dripping wet from a mass body jump in the pool. It was just an excuse really to slip and slide against each other, hands roaming and crotches brushing. A cesspit of horny, tipsy teenagers who were manhandled out by security. I don’t even know who snapped this exact photo before the party was hastily shut down, but the next weekend, we were all back at it again.

Another image is from the stargazing event Meg and I put on, which was basically a hundred beanbags spread across the lawn and enough weed for everyone to convince themselves they saw a UFO. Meg lazily looks towards the screen, red eyed with a joint hanging loose between her fingers. I’m in the forefront, sober as sin with a goofy smile and a thumbs up.

I’ve stared at these photos so many times, I’ve memorized each detail. But I’m going back with fresh eyes. I’m hunting. The letter I found on the SUV is burning a hole through the bedside table drawer. The letter that revealed something new - I’ve met him. I know him. He described the first time he saw me, which is why I’m now scouring through any evidence I have, searching for a familiar face in the crowds.

It’s been four days. Four days of sitting at the safe room computer, waiting for him to reappear. Four days of rereading the words he gifted me, building a connection with a complete stranger. Four days of keeping a secret from those who vowed to keep me safe. I wish I was strong enough to light another campfire and burn the letters once and for all. I wish my curiosity didn’t always have a death wish. But no. I’m more sure now than ever these letters weren’t penned by Fredrick. The burning need to know who is carving me up from the inside and the little voice in my head is growing louder.

Why are the heart achingly beautiful men in this house not enough for you? Why are you so selfish?

A soft knock barely reaches my ears before the door bursts open, the low murmur of Axel’s voice chastising Garrett. I roll over on the mattress, and my breath catches in my throat. They stand there, a vision of dark desire, both in fitted slacks and polished dress shoes, shirts molded to their sculpted torsos with the top buttons undone. Garrett’s pebble-gray shirt is rolled at the elbows, the muscles in his forearms taut beneath the fabric, while Axel’s is a navy polo.

It’s the closest I’ve ever seen Axel to wearing a collar, knowing how jarring he finds the feeling of it closing in around his neck. A noose his mother used to dangle him from in front of all of her horny friends. The fact he’s sporting a cotton collar now, albeit pushed wide open, renders me immobile.

Garrett’s eyes are dark, bordering ravenous, as they travel over me, lingering on the oversized T-shirt and panties I’m wearing. I know that look. He’s found his prey and is preparing to strike. Axel grips Garrett’s forearm, holding him back from doing just that.

“What’s happening here?” I ask, my voice rough, my throat suddenly dry. Whatever they have planned, I’m already in. Their gazes drift, hot and deliberate, to the exposed skin of my thighs, the goosebumps rising in response to their attention. Garrett licks his lips in a way that I imagine he’s practiced in the mirror a million times, while Axel’s voice finally breaks the tension.

“We’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, his tone thick with promise. “Meet us downstairs when you’re dressed.” Presenting a box from behind his back, Axel opts for leaving it on the dresser instead of allowing Garrett to move further into the room. I quickly glance at the box, pale blue and wrapped with a ribbon in a darker shade.

My pulse quickens. I rise slowly from the bed, and Garrett, as if by instinct, steps forward, drawn to me like a magnet. Axel pulls him back, his grip firm as he draws them both back through the door, Garrett whining like a dog the entire way.

Waiting until they reach the lower level, I rush forward and tear at the box. Lifting the lid and opening the tissue paper, my brows rise. A hunter green bodycon dress is folded on top of a pair of black heels. At the bottom, there’s another tissue paper package in which I find my underwear for the evening, or rather, lack of. Nestled in the corner, there’s a douche with clear intent.

I barely make it into the bathroom before I’m tugging the T-shirt over my head. Excitement courses through my veins, reigniting a feeling that had gone dormant. I shouldn’t have forced a distance between the guys and myself, insisting that I wanted to be alone to sneak off and watch the surveillance cameras instead. A part of me thought it might be easier that way, because when they find out I’ve been hiding the fact Mr. XO was right outside the house, they’re going to be pissed .

After taking care of business, I stand the douche in the shower and move back to the box. The lingerie is exquisite, despite consisting of merely a few straps of lace. I ease the black thong up my legs, relishing the feeling of unaltered sexiness. Baggy hoodies and leggings have been killing my vibe lately. The bra is more like a harness, crisscrossing over my back, winding over my shoulders and creating an open triangle around my breasts. The lace connects in my sternum with a flower motif. Then comes the dress.

Slipping the green one-piece over my head and pulling it down, my nipples graze the material and I bite my lip. I’m instantly aware of Garrett’s plan to sexually torture me, an effort to break our no-sex arrangement, no doubt. Turning to face the mirror, I brush my hands over intricate black beading sewn into the dress, creating a swirling pattern over my hips and sides, accentuating my curves. The color causes my mind to shift to Wyatt and dammit if my nipples don’t harden more.

Emerging from the bathroom, I sit down at the vanity and take the time to apply makeup for the first time since we arrived here. Not one for contouring, I apply a mineral powder to my face and work carefully on a smokey eye like Meg would have done on me, before adding mascara. Using a dusty pink color on my lips, I brush out my long hair and finish with a light sprinkling of hairspray. Pushing my feet into the skinny, black heels, thankful I was bored enough to shave my legs this morning, I leave my room and descend the staircase.

Only Axel is on the level below, waiting for me patiently. Gliding down the staircase with as much grace as I can muster in these neck-breaking heels, Axel extends his hand to help me down the last step.

“Wow,” he breathes, raising his eyebrows as he looks me up and down. Pulling me into his body, he gently tucks my hair behind my left ear and bends to place a kiss on my neck. “You look…,”

“Stunning? Gorgeous? Beautiful? Pick an adjective Axel,” I grin against his cheek. His grip tightens on my waist, barely withheld restraint causing my breath to catch.

“Bewitching,” he whispers in my ear. I shudder. Stepping back, Axel takes a hold of my hand and guides me along the corridor. I start to pause at the next staircase, expecting us to descend but Axel continues to pull me along with a knowing smirk.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer. Instead we continue on, my heart sinking with each step as we near the door at the end. The library. Do they know? No, surely not - unless this is all a ruse to make me beg for forgiveness. I can never be sure what goes on in Garrett’s head. But Axel doesn’t seem to be hiding any anger, his hazel eyes alive and sparkling as they continue to glance at me. I catch his gaze lowering to my breasts before snapping back up and facing forward. It gives me the chance to appreciate him instead, the harsh cut of his jawline and cheekbones enhanced by his shaved head.

Bringing me to a halt outside the library, he raps his knuckles against the wood and clutches my hand a little tighter. From the stiffness to his shoulders, I’d say he’s nervous. That makes two of us. Inside, the thumping of heavy bass starts to vibrate through the floor, apparently being our cue to enter. Axel opens the door to reveal Dax, Huxley and Wyatt standing in similar formal attire.

My throat restricts at the sight of them. Dax’s hands are in his dark slack’s pockets, his shirt a dazzling white and clinging to his tanned chest. His piercing blue eyes trail my body in a similar way Axel’s did, his cheeky smile growing even further. Huxley is beside him, thick arms crossed over his shirt, another appraising expression raking over my body that leaves me feeling naked and exposed. I honestly wish I was.

And then there’s Wyatt. Brown hair pushed back, a suit that he wears like a second skin, black ink poking out at the base of his throat. A blind nun would have caught the expression he gave before quickly shutting it down. Leaning against a bookcase, his ankles crossed, he tries to pretend he doesn’t want to be here but those haunting green eyes deceive him. They land right on my nipples, that are pushing against the dress’ fabric in a bid to be noticed by him .

My libido is calling out for attention as I step further into the room, tearing my eyes away from those now surrounding me.

The library has been converted into an improvised night club. Void of the usual furniture, black fabric panels cover the bookcases, flashing neon lights trailing the edges of the wooden floor. The bulbs in the lamps have been replaced with ones that turn from one color to the next, giving the room its own strobe light effect. A pop-up DJ stall is against the curved edge beside the door. Garrett has taken pride of place behind the booth, my name on an LED screen rolling across the front on repeat. A table draped in black along the right side holds the entire house’s stock of alcohol by the looks of it, and white bean bags have been placed around the makeshift dance floor.

“What…What’s the occasion?” I ask over the music, walking further inside so Dax can shut the door, stealing away the glare of the hallway’s artificial light. Garrett rushes up behind me, the length of his body briefly cemented against the curves of mine as if we are one being.

“It’s New Year’s Eve, Peach! I want my kiss at midnight,” he mouth dips to my ear, “and then some.” My knees are weak as the urge to say ‘yes master’ toys with the tip of my tongue. Turning my head, my temple clumsily connects with a chunky headset covering his ears. Returning to the DJ booth and fiddling with switches, his brown hair flops back and forth as his head nods to the beat.

Axel strides towards the drinks table and pours a round of shots, clearly ready to kick this party into gear. He hands us each a vibrant green shot and carries the other over to Garrett, us following behind. My shoulders bump between Dax’s and who I presume is Huxley, until the hand holding the shot glass extends. Wyatt’s chest lowers on a silent sigh, his jaw ticking. But he’s here. Garrett reaches over his booth to clink his glass with the rest of ours, shouting into the microphone despite us standing right in front of him.

“To making Avery smile,” he winks at me as we all down our first shot of many. Setting both of our glasses onto the booth, I reach deep into my cleavage, much to everyone’s excitement and produce my phone. Flicking the camera to selfie mode, I twist so Garrett is in the background in his DJ get-up and pull Wyatt back from walking away. This once, we’re doing this. Locking my arm around his, he raises an unimpressed brow at the screen whilst the others all shift into any space they can. Once everyone’s in the frame, I use the tiny buzz from the shot to slip my hand south and grab Wyatt’s junk so a shocked, huge smile spreads across his face as I snap the shot. Gotcha.

Giggling to myself, I plant my phone down on the booth and turn towards the dancefloor. Dax slips his hand into mine and leads me into the center of the room as Calvin Harris’ ‘We Found Love’ starts to blast through the speakers. Pulling me into the cage of his body, I can’t hide the smile he draws from me so easily. My steady, reliable and knowing Dax. Placing my hands on his firm chest and looking up, the colored patterns passing over his face lure me into our own moment, away from the rest of the library.

Hands find the dents of my waist from behind, Axel’s fingers trailing over the bead work on my sides. Dax pulls away, clearly not in the mood for sharing, my hand stretching after him as he turns away. My pout is quickly retracted when he returns a second later with a bottle of champagne in one hand and rosé in the other. Opting for the wine, I raise the bottle to my lips to take a long swig whilst Axel grinds against me.

The mix of alcohol and flashing lights quickly affect all efforts of rational thinking, giving myself into the beat of the music and escape the guys have provided me with. It can’t be more than an hour later when my hair is sticking to the back of my neck and my shoes have disappeared, although I can’t remember removing them. Huxley has fabricated in front of me, his shirt unbuttoned as he too lets the rhythm take over. I smile openly at him, loving that he’s letting loose for a change. His body moves fluidly, his face relaxed and eyes closed, a bottle of rum gripped in his hand.

Garrett walks over, headphones and all, delicately holding another shot in his tattooed fingers with a smirk in place, magnified by the neon lights. I stop bouncing on my heels as he trails a finger up my throat and gently pushes my chin upwards, lifting the glass and pouring its contents into my open mouth. Licking my lips after swallowing, Garrett bends his head to trail the same path with his own tongue. My dulled senses come to life, electricity humming through the air, so potent I instantly feel wetness increasing between my thighs.

Needing to distance myself from the girl who’s about to throw herself at these hot and sweaty men, I signal for a timeout and edge away from the dance floor. Collapsing onto a beanbag, my chest heaves as I try to catch my breath around a fit of giggles. My head is woozy in the best kind of way as I watch the guys jump enthusiastically to a new beat. Axel has loosened up more than I’ve ever seen him, his arms thrown around his best friend’s shoulders as they sing ‘I’m the real Slim Shady’ at the top of their lungs. A smile is glued to my face, my cheeks starting to ache from holding it in place.

Movement at my side catches my ear, Wyatt on the beanbag next to me and lifting a beer to his lips. My eyes are already heavy as I watch him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Trailing lower, the light catches a steady rise and fall to his chest, controlled as always. His abs are tense beneath his pale shirt, the ink underneath bleeding through the fabric. My gaze reaches his belt buckle when his fingers click right in front of my face, jarring me back to his face.

“Stop that,” he frowns. I purse my own lips, the alcohol loosening them and suddenly, no thought in my mind is safe. Oh god, here it comes.

“It’s really not fair you know,” I knock his hand away. The action causes me to tumble closer. His expensive cologne hits me like a ten-ton truck.

“What isn’t?” Wyatt looks at me as if he’s humoring me, doing me some sort of favor.

“You being so fucking hot. Why couldn’t I get a stepbro who’s fugly as shit and doesn’t infuriate me at every turn?”

“We’re not related, remember,” Wyatt taps one finger on my forehead. I lunge, grabbing his wrist.

“Then why don’t you want me like they do?” My eyes widen at my own admission. I didn’t know I still cared what Wyatt thought, but here I am, holding his wrist like a lifeline, begging for him to admit that he likes me. That it doesn’t always have to be like this. Wyatt’s throat works again, his green eyes dancing between mine. When he doesn’t answer, I release him and sink further into the bean bag.

“Whatever Wyatt. I can’t be bothered to do this with you anymore. It’s exhausting. I relinquish all resentment between us.” I flourish my hand in the air, repeating that last part in my head as I’m not sure the syllables all made it out of my mouth. Who knew I was so eloquent when I’m shitfaced? Suddenly, I’m being spun, my shoulders gripped until Wyatt is all I can see. His face hovers over mine, his fingers digging into my skin a tad too harshly.

“I need you to hate me,” he states, voice low and harsh, every word hitting like a punch. His glare pierces through me, cutting deep, but I can see the tremor in his jaw, the flicker of something softer buried beneath the hardness.

“Why?” I demand, my voice cracking. My breath catches in my throat, his cologne flooding my senses. He’s so close I can feel the heat radiating off him, the sharp rise and fall of his chest syncing with my own. “Why do I need to keep hating you all the time?”

Wyatt’s fingers tighten, and I flinch, feeling the sting. He doesn’t pull away. “Because,” he growls, but there’s a hesitation. A crack in the facade.

“Because what, Wyatt?” My voice is louder now, more insistent. I slam my fists into his chest but make no effort to put any distance between us. “Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep creating reasons to push me away?”

His breath hitches, and for a split second, his grip loosens. He looks away, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles are twitching again. Then, as if the words are ripped from him against his will, he leans into my ear on a rough, strangled whisper.

“Because if you don’t hate me, there’s nothing to stop me fucking you into ruin, leaving my brothers to deal with the wreckage. I will shatter you, Avery. I’ll destroy every piece of your soul and piece it back together in a way only I know how to pleasure. You’ll crave my cock, scream my name when they slide into your tight cunt. Nothing good will come from this, only a devastation none of us can fix.”

The room stills, the music fading away into nothing. The air between us is so charged, it feels like a thread about to snap. I’m about to snap. His harsh eyes meet mine again, raw and exposed. Wild and desperate. “I nearly made that mistake once. I won’t let you get the better of my control again.”

Multiple heavy weights chuck themselves onto bean bags around me, and I blink up, realizing the music has in fact stopped. The guys are laughing at some private joke, panting from their dancing. Only Wyatt knows why my own cheeks are so flushed, my heart trying to tear itself free of my chest. Returning to his beer like nothing has happened, Wyatt downs the remainder of his bottle and chucks it aside.

“I’m out,” he announces, rising and moving to leave. Garrett chuckles, saluting Wyatt’s back.

“Avery will be butt naked and strapped to my bed in five minutes if you want to watch the show. She’s going to squirt so beautifully.” Garrett reaches over to brush his thumb over my bottom lip and I almost climaxed right then and there. The smile drops from his face, the sudden seriousness of his features reminding me that there is a monster lurking beneath the surface. A monster I’ve denied sex for four days, and I’m about to pay for it.

At the door, Wyatt has stilled, his back rigid. I hang on the precipice, waiting for the moment he walks up and slams the door closed. Waiting for the finality of it to hit my soul and break it, just like he promised but not for the same reasons. Instead, whether from the drunken buzz we’re all sporting or just drained from our constant to and fro, Wyatt turns back to face me. His expression is still unreadable as he approaches, the most lethal type of predator in this room because he’s the most unpredictable.

Sauntering over at a casual pace, my eyes are drawn to the shift of his powerful thighs through the tight material of his slacks. I swallow loudly to my own ears. Holding out his hand, Wyatt raises a brow. I don’t hesitate to accept and allow him to pull me to my feet.