The House of the Wicked (The snake and the raven #1)

28. August

August

are you hungry?

O ur walk back to the house is silent. Nora’s eyes drift down to the letter clutched in her palm more times than I can count. Despite my desperation to know what it says, who it’s from, I can’t push her. Not yet. Taking a heavy-handed approach to getting this information will only make her suspicious.

When we walk into the living room, Bassey and Helen are seated at the dining room table, Yves leaning against the kitchen counter, watching them. The atmosphere is hostile. Nora moves to sit on the couch. I struggle to look at anyone but her.

The tension in her shoulders, coupled with the desolate look in her eyes, tugs at some long-forgotten part of my heart. She stares blankly ahead at the fireplace, or maybe the fireplace is just an anchor, keeping her body occupied here while her mind drifts deep into her past. A shallow sigh falls from her lips as she looks down at the envelope resting patiently on her lap.

“H ave fun at the beach?” Helen asks, her calculating eyes assessing Nora, then me.

“Why are you here again?” I demand, ignoring her question entirely.

“Ricky sent us,” Bassey’s gravelly voice cuts in.

“Back in the good graces so soon?” I raise my eyebrows, daring him to say more.

He shrugs. Ice slithers through my veins as my eyes follow—in absolute disbelief—as his drift toward Nora. Yves moves like a cat, swift and purposeful. None of us have time to register his movements before he’s reached for his Glock. A second later, it’s pressed into Bassey’s eye socket.

“Don’t fucking look at her,” he whispers, pushing the gun a bit further.

“I’m going to shower,” Nora announces as she gets off the couch, the pages of a letter tenderly folded in her palm. She must’ve opened the envelope while we were preoccupied.

“You’re not staying here,” I say to Bassey as Nora’s door shuts. “There’s a motel in the next town over. Get a room there. Helen, if you’re here, you’re working. We take shifts watching the water and the road. You can take the next eight hours down on the lake. Yves, drive Bassey to the town and then take road duty.” I issue the orders without hesitation and then turn to follow Nora before anyone decides to protest.

Her door’s closed, but I can’t hear the shower, so I knock twice and wait.

Muffled footsteps grow louder a second before her soft voice asks, “Who is it?”

“August.” The door opens. The letter’s still clutched in her hand. I can’t stop myself from sta ring down at it. “What does it say?”

Instead of answering, she offers it to me, turning and walking back into the room.

The pages are mostly dry but crinkled from the brief drop in the water. When I turn them over, the same flowery pattern from the envelope covers the paper. Fuck, only three paragraphs are legible. The water, now dry, must’ve soaked through most of the letter, completely distorting the words on the second half of the page.

Dear Nonny,

I’m not sure, of course, what events led to you finding and now reading this letter. Writing it feels inconceivable… That I would be absent from your life in any version of the future cuts me so deeply. But if you are holding these pages, then I know my worst nightmare has become your reality, and you are now navigating this world alone.

I have so much to tell you, my sweet bird, and I don’t know where to begin. A part of me is stuck wondering where you are in your life right now? Are you older? Have you met someone and settled down? Are you at the house on the lake? You must be if you are reading this.

Your father and I love you. Everything we have done, the good, the bad, and the absolutely horrific, has been to ensure that you reach for more than we ever did. This morning your father had our will changed. Ricky was listed as your legal guardian, but we have now changed it to Dima. Dad thinks Ricky will find a way to force his presence on you. If that happens Nonny, please know you cannot trust him.

Fuck. I stop for a second, glancing at Nora. She’s deep in thought, sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at the closed doors leading to the deck.

He will work hard to endear himself to you, to position his love as something selfless and unconditional. Know that he always centers himself, and there are always conditions. Trust me, trust your father, trust your heart. Ricky will pave the way to your destruction.

Gracious is someone who…

The rest of the words bleed into the page in fat black blobs of ink that are comically indecipherable. Like the universe’s cruel joke. When I look up, Nora’s eyes are on me.

“It’s from my mother,” she whispers, her voice breaking a little. “What do you think she was going to say? About Gracie?”

Swallowing the fear building in my chest, I weigh the pros and cons of the truth. Whatever I say will either enrage her or terrify her, and both options will end badly. With Helen here, Bassey’s return to the circle of trust, I feel rudderless. Like I can no longer navigate the mess my father and Ricky have created. And a part of me is eager to watch it burn to the ground. Taking a deep breath, another lie blooms on my lips. At this point, I’ve told so many it’s a fucking miracle I know the truth at all .

“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe we could ask him?” Placing the ball in Gracious’ court is dangerous, but I know he’ll tell the truth. Eventually.

She nods, looking toward the deck. “I miss my friends.” This statement makes me smile, because I can do something about this. This is something I can give her.

“Adam and Thalia are driving up here tomorrow with Alley,” I say.

Her eyes snap toward mine. “Thalia and Adam broke up.”

This is news to me. Shrugging before walking over to her, I say, “I don’t know anything about that, but Gracious said they’ll be here tomorrow, so you won’t have to miss them for much longer.”

We sit on the edge of the bed together, sharing the silence like two equally lost souls. She shifts slightly and leans into me, dropping her head until it rests on my shoulder.

“I need to go check on the others,” I whisper.

“Just a second, please August.” Her words are devastating, sad. When she glances up at me, the need for comfort is so clear in her eyes it makes me forget everything else.

H ours pass since leaving Nora. The house is silent. Yves secured a room for Bassey in the shittiest guesthouse we could find. Helen’s down at the boathouse on watch. Yves’ back at his post.

I’ve tried and failed to get hold of Gracious—calling incessantly quickly turned to urgent, frantic texting. All of them are unanswered. An unshakable sense of d read is pooling in my gut. Things are going wrong. The second Helen and Bassey arrived, it started, and it’s grown with Gracious’ silence. I need to talk to him. Before Adam arrives tomorrow.

Nora’s still cloistered in her room. She’s eaten nothing since we returned from the lake. After doing a quick scan of the fridge, I stroll over to her room. She has to be starving. I can probably manage to make her a sandwich. Yves’ the better cook, but she’s stuck with me until I relieve him at five AM.

“Nora?” I call out softly before knocking on her door. A few seconds pass before I try again. “Nora?” Louder this time, but still, no answer. I give it a few more seconds before trying the handle.

It’s unlocked.

Slowly pushing the door open, I step inside. The bedside lamp is on, washing the room in an intense, soft, golden glow. My eyes scan the empty space. She’s not here. But the doors to her private deck are flung wide open. It’s only when I move closer that a low bubbling sound from the hot tub registers.

With measured, purposeful strides, my feet stalk toward the open balcony doors. The burbling sound of the hot tub grows louder. When I reach the threshold of the doorway, I freeze. Not just my legs, but every part of me slips into a paralysis that feels hazy and forbidden and magnetic.

Lazy tendrils of steam drift up from the surface of the tub as the churning roll of water dances around her. She’s standing in the middle of the raised tub, swaying gently as her fingers trail through the water. With her back facing me, my eyes take advantage of her lack of awareness, devouring the rich brown skin covering her back. Like a man starved, my gaze lingers on the small soft rolls of skin trapping her bikini straps at her sides. Then the rational part of my mind dissolves completely as m y eyes land on the deep dips of her waist that curve into hips and an ass that takes my fucking breath away.

I clear my throat. She spins around abruptly, sloshing water everywhere.

If the sight of her back had my lungs seizing, I’m wholly unprepared for her front. Hair piled high on her head, flushed pink cheeks framed with loose strands of damp curls clinging to the dewy skin of her face. And those huge eyes, shocked and a little afraid. I almost fall to my knees with need.

“Jesus, you scared the shit outta me,” she says, placing her hand over what’s probably a racing heart.

“Sorry. I knocked,” I say lamely.

“Where are your minions?” she asks before turning her back to me once again to sit on the seat inside the hot tub.

Her head drops to rest on the edge of the hot tub, hanging over slightly as she exhales. I’m a statue, mute and frozen, watching as her feet drift to the surface of the water. Sparkly black toenails peek out through the bubbles and steam. My body is drawn to hers, like the moon calling in the tide. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m standing at the edge of the hot tub, directly behind her. Her head pushes back delicately against my groin as she opens her eyes to stare up at me.

“Bassey’s gone. Helen and Yves are on guard duty,” I say, finally answering her question. We continue to stare at each other. The only sounds around us are the bubbling water of the hot tub and our labored breathing. Her breasts bob in the water; despite all the self-control I usually possess, I can’t stop myself from watching them. I can’t stop my tongue from darting out to wet my lips as I take in the stiff peaks of her nipples.

“A night off for the hard-working August, then?” She smiles at me.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, cringing internally at the husky pitch of my voice and the drastic change of subject.

Pulling my fingers into tight, balled fists at my sides, I try to ignore the way my body—all of me—craves her. But then she closes her eyes and sighs, and any illusion of control shatters.

Common sense and logic take a back seat as my knees bend, my body dropping to a crouch behind her before placing my hands on her, slowly tracing lines on the damp skin between her shoulder blades. My fingers move at a torturous pace as they track the grooves of her bones and the small freckles dusting her clavicle.

“Are you hungry?” I ask again.

My hands move down, past her collarbone. She arches up as my palms push inside her bikini top, cupping the ample breasts I know are going to be my undoing.

“I’m starving, August,” she half moans. Brushing my thumbs over her nipples, I smile as a low whimper slips between her lips.

“What do you feel like?” I continue massaging her tits, my dick aching as it strains against the zipper of my jeans.

“You know what I feel like,” she answers as my hands drift lower.

Water slips over the lip of the hot tub, instantly soaking my t-shirt. I barely register the sensation as Nora lifts her hips, urging my hands closer to where she needs me most.

“I need to hear it. I need you to tell me exactly what you want.”

“You. I want you,” she whispers.

“How do you want me?” My hands wander back up to her breasts, greedily kneading them as I wait for her answer.

She opens her eyes, glares up at me. “Violent, rough, relentless,” she whispers the words I used that day in the kitchen, and I smirk.

“Stand up.” The command falls out of me. We’re walking a dark and dangerous path and every touch, every word between us, is steeped in the promise of our mutual destruction.

She moves with deliberate slowness, each subtle shift of her body captivating me. Rivulets of water stream down her back, along the curve of her spine, and then over the round, dimpled flesh of her ass. She turns to face me, my hands bracing the edge of the hot tub, watching her.

“Kneel on the seat,” I say, nodding toward the built-in ledge of the hot tub.

She steps forward, then drops to her knees in front of me. Stepping away from the edge, I stare at her. At her breasts, glistening with beads of water. At her waist, that begs to be held in the cage of my hands. At the small triangle of white fabric covering the pussy, I’m about to gorge myself on.

Leaning forward, my fingers brush the errant strands of hair away from her neck and slowly reach behind her. I tug the string holding her bikini loose. desperately, my hands crawl down her spine and repeat the motion with the string tied around her back.

The fabric drops into the water with a satisfying wet smack. My mouth waters as her dark brown, pebbled nipples pull stiff when the cool night air brushes along her skin. And fuck, I’m still a tit man. I drink in the sight of her perfect breasts, two beacons calling to me, begging for my lips, my teeth, my tongue... I know I’m still a fucking tit man.

The broad, flat surface of my palm glides over one of her breasts and then creeps down, lower, until I reach the string holding her bottoms in place. Tuggin g softly, one side slips free, before my hand drifts to the opposite side, swiftly freeing that side too.

The fabric’s trapped in the apex of her thick, round thighs. I reach out and grip it in my fist, dragging it up.

“August,” she moans as the straining friction of the nylon rubs against her clit. I drag it forward again and smile as one of her hands comes to rest on the edge of the tub.

“Get out,” I murmur, before taking a step back and watching as she does exactly that.

Completely naked, the water rains down the incredible curves of her body and I’m fucking paralyzed by my lust, frozen before her as I stand and watch, waiting… Her skin prickles and shivers with goosebumps. But when she takes a step toward me, I shake my head.

“Are you wet?” I ask.

“You know I am,” she replies with a hoarse rasp.

“I’m not talking about the water.” I drop my gaze to the juncture of her thighs. She shifts on her feet. When I look back at her face, a smirk dances around the corners of her mouth.

“I don’t think I am.” She shakes her head, and I grin at the lie. We’ll call her bluff together, I decide.

“Open your legs, Nora.” My eyes follow the slow movement of her parting thighs. “Slide your fingers through that perfect pussy.” Her eyes stay firmly glued to mine as she does it. The intense heat of her gaze is almost unbearable. Glancing down, I track the smooth slide of her two narrow fingers as they push through her folds, past her clit, and down to the entrance of her pussy.

“C ome here,” I say, as she pulls those glistening fingers away from her core.

She takes two steps toward me, stopping only when her breasts press against my chest.

Wrapping my hand around her wrist, I lift her fingers to my mouth. At first, lazily licking off the incredible taste of her arousal. But then I pull them between my lips and suck hard before slipping them out of my mouth and guiding her hand down my chest, down and over the waistband of my jeans. I stop when her palm spreads over the rigid outline of my swollen cock.

“Violent, rough, and relentless. Remember those words, Nora,” I whisper before picking her up and carry her into her bedroom.