Page 110 of Séance

Gunner avoids looking at me, his broad shoulders tense, and he rubs the back of his neck. “No, people usually have to be invited to join us down here. Jaceson sometimes asks his racing buddies to join him. Every once in a while, I’ll ask a few guys I know from the quarry. Jameson…well…he…uh…”

That’s when I realize this is their hunting ground.

“He would invite the girls he wanted to fuck,” I supply with a wry grin, inwardly cringing at the thought of the guys picking and choosing who they would sleep with next. Knowing the guys have a past is different than being confronted with it.

“But we were all with you today,” Gunner hastily explains, almost giddy with relief. “That means none of us selected anyone tonight.”

I open my mouth to ask another question, but I’m distracted when Jameson’s screech echoes from across the room.

“No touching! Bad whore. I’m pookie’s.” I spin to see Jameson wearing a scowl, slapping at the fingers of two girls pawing at him. He holds up his hand, then points to his finger. “She already put a ring on it. See?”

His declaration gives the girls enough pause that he’s able to slip past them without being molested. Jaceson strolls behind his brother almost casually, but even though they are twins, he’s nearly invisible to the rest of the room as everyone’s gazes just slide over him.

While I’m grateful, I don’t understand it.

Jaceson is just as gorgeous and fascinating as his brother.

I would never be able to choose between them.

Jameson dashes toward me, almost looking pissed, and immediately takes me in his arms. “I didn’t touch them. I wouldn’t.”

I run my hand down his chest, my touch soothing him enough that he snuggles against my side. “I trust you.”

Funnily enough, I did.

Though Jameson might be a self-proclaimed man whore, he would never cheat or lie to a woman. He might be brutal in his breakups, but he would never betray a woman. A blush heats my cheeks when Jameson steps behind me, slips a hand around my waist, and boldly uses me as a shield. He glares at any girl who even looks in his direction, shooing away a few of them who try to approach like they are mosquitoes threatening to suck the life out of him.

I should be jealous, I have no doubt he’s slept with half the girls in the room, but I only feel sorry for them. While he might have slept with them, he found them lacking, not worthy of a second date. I lean into him, feeling possessive and wanting to prove to the girls that he’s now mine.

Jameson pulls me flush against him, his hard cock pressing against my lower back, clearly approving of my claim.

“Why don’t we liven up this party?” a vaguely familiar voice calls above the music. I turn, watching in slow motion as a girl with mousy brown hair slowly stands from her spot on the couch. It takes a second for me to recognize the woman buried beneath the thick layer of makeup caked on her face, but when I do, I wince.

Brenda—the bitch from the store.

With a vicious smirk, she lifts a fucking Ouija board. “Who’s game?”

It’s all I can do not to recoil, but I must not have covered my reaction well enough, because Jameson clutches me closer and mutters under his breath, “Fucking Brenda.”

Fucking Brenda indeed.

People glance at each other, then wander closer. Someone mutes the radio, and the only sound is the muffled beat of the music from upstairs. The lights dim, and a dozen or so candles are lit around the sitting area, the flames barely able to keep the flickering, ominous shadows at bay.

“Rue?” Brenda smiles sweetly, batting her lashes innocently at me as she pats a spot next to her on the couch. “Don’t you want to join us? I saved you a front-row seat.”

“No, thanks.” I don’t even pretend to be anything but disgusted by her act. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you or that board. It’s not a game to play. I have no intention of angering the dead.”

I turn away, striding toward the door, ready to leave, when a voice calls out to me. “Why don’t you stay and show us how to use the board properly if you’re worried? Save us from ourselves.”

At the sound of his voice, my heart shrivels inside my chest until nothing but dust remains.

Hicks.

Very slowly, I spin, and pain blasts through me when the man himself pushes away from his spot near the fireplace and strides toward me. Though he wears a friendly smile, hardness glints in his green eyes. Combined with the flickering flames, it gives his expression a cruel twist.

I gaze around the room with new eyes, and my stomach churns with dread.

Somehow, some way, he orchestrated tonight down to the last detail.

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