Page 10 of Blood Ties
?
Chapter Three
Riley
Something isn’t right.
I shook off the unease for a while. Or drank it away, rather. Spin the bottle was a welcome distraction, though it left a new tension in the group. But now I’m sobering up and fighting a constant needling discomfort: something iswrong.
It’s not Knox... or notjustKnox. He’s drinking and smoking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Completely unlike his brother. Kai looks a lot like Knox, with the same thick, dark hair — his is longer, silky waves down nearly to his shoulders — and intense eyes. But his energy is so different. Kai is dressed entirely in black, and he’s all lean length and hard edges, with shadows as dark as bruises beneath his eyes. He always sits with his shoulders slumped and his head lowered, like he’s trying to make himself smaller, though he’s even taller than Knox. I could dismiss it as shyness, but... something about the entire house is strange.
My mental alarms started going off the second I realized how remote this place is. This farmhouse is almost an hour away from even the poor excuse for civilization that the bar provided. A sprawling, rural property just past a scrapyard. There’s not a single neighbor within shouting distance.
The farmhouse itself is big but old, two stories of peeling white paint and gray gable roofs. Its windows, big and grimy, watch the dirt driveway like wary eyes, including a tiny one up top that indicates an attic. The wraparound front porch sags like it’s ready to give out at any moment. Inside it’s clean enough, but has a similar air of neglect and age. It creaks and sighs around us, audible even through the music. Maybe I’m just not used to old houses, but it gives me the creeps.
It also makes me curious about what secrets this old building must hold. Aside from the living room with its faded furniture, I caught only a glimpse of the dining room and kitchen — which looked straight out of the 60s, with its knotty pine cabinets, tile counters, and lack of modern utilities — and the similarly old-fashioned bathroom. My gaze keeps pulling toward the wooden staircase that must lead to the second story, and the white door beside it, which locks from the outside. A basement, maybe? I’m dying to open it, to sate the steady itch of my curiosity, but I have no good reason to explore.
Nor do I have any good reason to want to leave. Knox drove an hour each way to rescue us, and offered his house for the night. It’s generous. He’s been nothing but kind. I can’t just insist we leave now, especially after I kissed himandhis brother. My lips are still prickling from the memory of each one. Kai so soft yet hungry in his eagerness, Knox rough and domineering, both leaving me breathless.
So I stay, and drink more to take the edge off of my nerves.
Everyone else seems to be having a good time. Felix is swapping stories with Knox about growing up in a similarly tiny town, while Caleb and May share a joint and several loaded glances. I wonder if he’s finally going to make a move after that game brought their sexual tension to the surface.
Speaking of sexual tension... I turn my attention to Kai across the room. He stands against the wall, keeping his distance from where the rest of us sprawl across the furniture. One of his long legs bounces, black combat boot tapping on the carpet. His eyes are still on the spot where Caleb spilled a beer.
When he leaves, I follow. I don’t know what keeps pulling me in his wake, but he’s a mystery I want to figure out. Maybe it’s that part of me that’s always searching for something broken to fix.
I find him out on the sagging front porch, lighting a cigarette and leaning against one rickety pillar. When he notices me, he silently holds out the pack in offering, and I take one.
He lights the cigarette between my lips, and our eyes lock as I inhale. Kai doesn’t give me the same shivery feeling as his brother, but there’s something dark in those depths. Something haunted. It pulls me in like a moth to a flame. The way he kissed me... I haven’t felt that way before. Such a deceptively gentle hunger in the way he touched me.
It made me want to be consumed.
I drop my gaze to his black t-shirt; it hangs loosely on his lean frame, and the image is so faded I couldn’t read it until I got this close.
“Radiohead? Cool.”
