Page 37 of Entombed In Sin

It’s not the first time I’ve caught Knox enjoying the positive attention. Nor has it gone unnoticed that he turns his own flirtatiousness up when someone sneers at him. It’s like a challenge to see if he can get a reaction from those that outwardly oppose his uniqueness. Or maybe Knox acts unabashed as a shield to keep from being hurt. Maybe it’s a little of both. With insight into his past and from what I know of himnow, I think I’m starting to understand Knox. He’s an eccentric individual with a deep well of feelings and a host of insecurities that he tries to hide behind his big personality.

Knox grabs my elbow and drags me through the throng of bodies toward the dance floor.

“Aren’t you worried the twins will notice you flirting?” I ask him curiously as he leads the way.

Knox’s laughter is louder than the music. He pulls me closer and leans in to say, “Naw, they know it’s all for show. I’ve given these people an opening. All I have to do now is give themthelook and they’ll come running. Then I’ll have my pick of victims.”

I gasp. This is what all the smiles and winks are about? Luring victims? He laughs with me as incredulousness turns into amusement.

“Now stop dragging your feet andmove,” he urges, tugging on my arm harder as we pick up the pace. I stumble after him toward the dance floor.

This is the most crowded place we’ve been to. People brush up against us, and we them. Hands grope my ass but when I look over my shoulder, no one looks guilty or meets my gaze. By the time we get to the dance floor, I’m not sure if I’m relieved, annoyed, excited, or need to pee.

Knox turns and reaches for my hand. I hesitate.

He buried me alive.He nearly let me suffocate to death, a small voice whispers in my head.

But the words are slightly slurred and the music practically drowns the voice out. The outrage and fear from the incident has been shaken loose with each drink and help from the booming bass of each club’s speaker system.

My fingers wrap around Knox’s hand, and I smile as he pulls me close to his body. I yearn to close the gap and press myself up against the prettiest man in this room. I don’t allow myself to indulge in the impulse. I stop before he can pull me completelyup against his chest. The decision to keep a hair’s breadth away is for the both of us. I know he doesn’t like the contact, and I don’t feel like getting my throat slit again. His knife is nowhere in sight but I have a feeling it’s close by.

The answering relief in Knox’s eyes, as brief as it is, tells me it’s the right decision.

What the hell?

Was this a test? Did Knox think I wouldn’t remember his aversion to touch? Or was letting me close a way to show he was sorry—allowing me to cross his hard line in the sand just to assuage the tension between us? Is the relief in his eyes because I’ve acknowledged the boundary and am not looking for his forgiveness in this way? My mind spins harder as the alcohol works to push away all rational thought and doubts, fears and misgivings. I let it. I don’t want to think too hard tonight. I just want to have fun.

“I don’t dance, Knox,” I tell him.

“Lucky for you, I do. Just follow my lead and let the alcohol do the rest!” he calls back with a laugh.

I roll my eyes and grin. “Where do you want my hands? In the air or…?”

I didn’t realize the tension Knox has been carrying around until I see it drain away from his shoulders. The corners of his mouth curve upward. This smile that he bestows upon me is different from any of the others he’s directed at me, or his potential victims, all night. It’s real, raw, and full of vulnerability.

It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. My thighs clench together as he gazes down at me.

Knox reaches for both of my hands. “You can put these pretty things around my neck, Starr Girl.”

I allow him to guide my hands upward, and when they get to his neck, I wrap them around it and loosely weave my fingerstogether. Knox’s hands come to rest on my hips. Like this, we’re forced to stay close. But this seems to be ok with Knox and if he’s ok, I’m ok. Except, despite the blasting heat, I swear I can feel Knox’s body heat scalding my exposed flesh. It makes me ultra-aware of him in ways I’m not sure I want to be. Not with this psychopath. The room spins as I stare into Knox’s twinkling blue eyes.

The spinning only worsens as he forces my hips to move in time with the beat.

“Relax, Starr Girl. I got you,” he promises.

I have to force myself to move to the music and look away from his eyes. It feels like I’m falling forward into their depths. But I know better than to allow myself to fall too deep. Knox is off-limits. Even if he wasn’t unpredictable and dangerous, he’s not mine. Not like Thatcher and Sagan are. Which is weird to think about. I’ve never thought of them so possessively before.

My stomach clenches, and for a moment I’m irrationally frustrated. How come I can’t have Knox? Why do the twins get to play with such a pretty toy, and I can’t? I should demand that they share him. I’ve given Sagan and Thatchereverything. I should be able to borrow their boyfriend and play with him however I want. Imagine the fun I could have if I could have Knox all to myself.

I shake off the alarming strangeness of my thoughts.

This isn’t me, I’m not like this.

At least, I don’t think so. But when an idea forms in the back of my head, a small bubble growing in size and beauty, I can’t help but acknowledge that maybe I’m just as strange and eerie as the questions spinning around in my head.

With a deep breath, I force myself to enjoy the music, my dance partner, and the heavy buzz from drinking. It’s easier to let go than I thought. By the second song, I’m lost in the beat andthe lights. My body sways, and I give myself over the absolutely perfect night.

13

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