Page 36 of Entombed In Sin

That’s right. We were followed last night and the guys told me about the trackers at lunch. I know I should be concerned but… I smile up at Sagan.

“I’ll be super careful,” I offer quickly and eagerly.

This time a smile does pull at his mouth and he even laughs. “My eager Little Viper. I knew you were something special.”

I could melt at his words. Sagan doesn’t speak much, but when he does, each word uttered is spoken with purpose and thought. If he says I’m special, then he means that and that means something to me. In fact, that means a whole lot given I’m not anything to almost everyone who has known or knows me. My heart swells and I lean harder into Sagan.

Grinning, I look around us. There's a frenzy of activity as people pass us by. Conversations all blend together, swelling in volume and then fading. How do you kill in a place like this? As I stare, I notice that as busy as the sidewalk is, people seem to go out of their way to avoid bumping into the four of us as we join the masses. I catch a few people sizing up or openly checking out the twins who, at well over six and a half feet tall, certainly have an imposing presence. Add the fact that they’re both wearing similar long sleeve shirts, unbuttoned the same way, and dark pants—they’ve definitely leaned into the whole twin thing this evening. As much as I notice the attention the twins are attracting, I can’t help but notice the attention Knox is getting too. A few people side-eye him, swift looks of confusion or subtle sneers flicker over their faces before they disappear around us. I also see the looks of strange fascination.

Gawking, that’s what Knox called it this morning.

I bristle for him, hating that Knox not only sees this but deals with it constantly. This is the price of being yourself. I suddenly understand Knox a bit better. He can wear the biggest smile, but it’s a mask. Knox is wary of the people around him and their intentions.

As he should be.

“The first place is over here,” Knox points, practically bouncing around with excitement. “We can grab real food before making our way to some of the bars a few blocks over.”

Thatcher steps close to him and repeats curiously, “Real food? As if restaurants serve any other type.”

I catch the brief moment as Knox reaches for his hand. Their fingers brush together and they trade a fleeting look before Knox pulls away. My heart flutters at the sight of affectiontheirway.

“As opposed to just fried bar food,” Knox states matter-of-factly as he turns on his heels to face me and Sagan. He flashes the twin beside me a bright grin then falls in step with me. Sagan leaves my side to join his brother ahead of us.

“I’m going to show you what a good friend I can be,” he declares proudly, nudging me with his shoulder. “By the end of tonight, you’re going to love me.”

Absentmindedly, Knox tucks one of his blond waves behind his ear. My stomach knots. It tightens further as he looks back at me, his stunning bright blue eyes twinkling with mischievousness in the lights around us. Are they brighter tonight? Or is it because I’m still reeling over my kill and this is part of being blood drunk? There’s never been any denying how attractive I find Knox.

The thing is Knox’s looks are a mask to hide the dangerous person he is—as is his charm and friendliness. The way he can flip a switch is unnerving. Will I always have to question if Knox is being genuine with me? The thought is exhausting. I don’t know if I have it in me to give in and simply trust him.

I want to, though. Maybe I’m a little too desperate for some type of connection with anyone willing to be kind to me, fake or otherwise. It’s better than being outright mocked or disparaged against, right?

“I can’t love anyone on an empty stomach,” I murmur, shooting him a small smile—grateful that at least he’strying. I can try too. And while I watch and analyze everything he does, I’ll be able to figure out what exactly I can do to level the playing field between us.

“Hear that Sagan? Thatcher? Walk fasterpeasants!” Knox cries out playfully. “My best friend needs food.”

“It’s called a Jager bomb,” Knox shouts over the blaring music, shoving the drink into my hand.

Around us, people are dancing, drinking, and making out. The heat in the club is stifling, despite the mist that rains down on us. I’m glad I didn’t bring the jacket now. It would’ve been put down at one of the last two clubs, or back at the restaurant, abandoned. In all of the five different places we’ve been to, the heat has been so intense that I had to remember to breathe on the off chance I might pass out.

Not that I’m complaining. How can I when I get to see Knox’s sweat glistening on his exposed skin… which is a lot. That long sleeve fishnet crop top doesn’t hide anything on his thin frame. Not that Knox has ever tried to hide anything about who he is. I love that. I love what I see, all his sweat, skin and… God, it’sreallyhot in here.

Tearing my eyes away from Knox’s body as he throws cash down for the busy bartender, I eye the drink in my hand. It’s the eighth or ninth drink I’ve had tonight, which is seven or eight more than I’ve had at one time ever. The room is spinning, and if I thought I was a little dizzy and out of it due to my kill, it’s nothing compared to this. Drinking all this alcohol might be something I regret later.

“This looks like it could stop my heart,” I say loud enough for Knox to hear.

“It probably could,” he confirms before throwing his drink back. I watch in amazement as his throat convulses, taking the entire thing down. When he’s done, he slams the glass down onto the bar top and grins at me. “Drink up and let’s go dance.”

Tentatively, I bring the glass to my lip and sip the contents. The last few drinks have been hit or miss. At least then I had Sagan and Thatcher to warn me about what I’d like and what to brace myself for. The twins have slipped away, though, leaving me to determine what I like on my own. I didn’t ask why or where they were going. If they wanted us to know, they would’ve told us. Or at least that’s what I would like to believe.

As the alcohol touches my tongue, I find this one isn’t great. My stomach protests. It's too full. Just as I start to pull the drink away, Knox reaches forward and tips my glass higher, forcing me to finish the drink or drown.

“There you go!” he cheers, his grin so bright it could challenge the sun’s rays.

When I’ve downed the contents, Knox takes the glass from my hand and places it next to his empty one.

“I think I preferred the last drink,” I admit.

“Of course you did, it was sugary and blue. What’s not to like? But tonight, we’re expanding your horizons. Isn’t that fun?” He replies, though he’s distracted as a guy walks by us, openly checking him out. Knox winks at the stranger before turning his attention back to me. “Cheap red wine isn’t all there is out in this big ol’ world, Starr Girl. Now let’s go dance.”

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