Page 49 of Fragile Facade
He’s lying. I know he is because he’s too drunk to hide his tells. His answers are too quick, rehearsed, and he’s either too horny and really does want to get out of here, or he’s using it as an excuse to change the subject. With my eyes on Soren, my hands roam all over Brady. Soren’s teeth grind and his jaw clenches, but when I search the guy, he has no weapons on him. Soren bends to check his ankles, distracting him with lips against his inner wrist.
We’re luring him away from the club, but if he’s Reaper Corp, he might have the same goal.
He's clear. Looking up at Monster, I nod at the exit so he knows we’re leaving with the guy. Honestly, I want nothing to do with this preppy fuck, but he’s the ticket to getting Soren to snap, so playing along is in my best interest, and nothing is more important to me than my best interest. Monster shakes his head at me like I’m exhausting him, and then he slips out of my sight and my mind.
As we leave the Neon Demon, Death Row greets us, dark and mostly empty, but that doesn’t mean we’re alone. It’d be smart to take this guy to Vile House so he’s where we want him come morning, but I’m not ready to share this game of sex-chicken with my Vile House brethren. I want somewhere more private. Glancing at Soren, whose eyes are already on me, I nod towards the street my parents’ house sits on, and he tilts his head at me in answer. It’s a challenge, though I don’t know what it means, so I grab Brady just to piss Soren off and wrap my arm around his neck.
“You have no idea what you’re in for, little lamb. You sure you wanna disappear in Moros with two strangers?” I grab his ass to give my warning a playful tone, and Brady can’t fight the urge any longer. He wraps his arms around my neck, grabs my hair, and tries to steer my mouth to his for a kiss.
Soren gets there first. He rips Brady’s head away from mine, picks him up, and throws him over his shoulder. “Don’t tempt me, tourist. I told you not to touch him without my permission.” He ignores Brady’s whining and takes off towards my house. I walk behind and grin the entire way.
Fucking checkmate.
18
KNOCK HARDER
GHOST
I’m a sure person.I know what I want and how to get it. I trust my instincts, even if my mind isn’t a safe place, and I trust my body to know how to achieve what I’m after.
Right now, I have no fucking clue what I’m doing or why I’m doing it. I taunt devils on the daily, but Riot has never been the devil I’m most interested in riling—not sexually. The second his eyes leave me, no longer paying attention, a flood of shame and anger swells within me and I find myself doing whatever it takes to get his attention back. Why? Because he fucking infuriates me, and I like how it feels. Because he steps up to the plate just by being a dick, and he tempts the parts of me that don’t get to mingle with daylight too often.
There’s nothing safe about Riot, but he’s turning into my safeoutletbecause I know he can deliver what I need.
Rapture in the form of ruin.
Pleasure in the ritual of danger.
Enlightenment in the task of unmasking.
A mutual destruction that strips us bare and unveils the true parts we’re after. He’s looking for himself, and I’m looking for someone to appreciate who the fuck I am.
The tension hasn’t died on the walk across town. Carrying Brady while Riot’s eyes are on me has only built it to the point that I’m agitated and deadly. My needs are screaming at me in guttural voices that make no sense. I’m aware that I’m goading Riot into giving me what I need, but I’m still unclear on the details of what exactly I’m after.
I want him to be the one to crack.
I want him to be the one to snap and dictate the night.
I want him to take what he’s been teasing for months.
… But I don’t know how to force control on him when I’ve never willingly given it up.
I drop Brady to his feet when we get to the front porch of the Hallows’ house. Riot unlocks the door, but he looks back at me while he does it, a challenge in his grey eyes that I’m eager and willing to accept. But I don’t show him that. I set my eyes on Brady instead, looking at the kid likehe’sthe challenge. Riot tenses, and then he pushes the door open and forces Brady inside.
The little fuck’s hands are all over Riot, groping at his shirt to tear it off and fumbling with his pants to get things moving faster. I watch, letting my rage build, wondering who the hell this guy is. Isn’t he here for Reaper Corp? Does he know we’re Vile House? Is he setting us up because we’re too lost in our challenge to see the signs, or are we the ones about to ruin him?
In the front entrance of the house, Riot flicks on a lamp to illuminate my anger, looking at me over the top of Brady’s head as if to ask, ‘game on?’ I lick my lips and close the door behind me.
When Brady takes Riot’s shirt off, I track the tattoos on his chest, following them down his ribs and sides, lost in a sea of scars and muscle definition. As I’m getting hard from the sight of the man who turns me into a new version of myself, Brady finally remembers my rule. He looks back at me for permission to touch Riot, and I’m tempted to say no. Iwantto say no. I want to deny him access to what is mine and throw him from this house so we can tear it down ourselves. But Riot hasn’t broken free from his leash yet, and I need him crazy with power before I throw Brady out the front door.
Brady is an idiot. He must know about Moros if he’s here for work—Reaper Corp or the music festival—which means he knows how troublesome the town is. He’s almost as dumb as the girl Krypt killed in the cemetery, but instead of reminding him of that, I step up to him and grab his wrists. I place his hands on Riot’s hips, sliding them down to cup his hardening cock.
“You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” I ask him while looking at Riot. “You know nothing about us.”
Brady whimpers. “I know chemistry. We have it.”
We sure as fuck do. I’m one chemical and Riot is another; Brady is simply the ignition that will spark our first explosion.
