Page 53 of Their Cruel Love

“Can we get a bottle of—” I start to ask the woman as she reaches the door.

“No!” Razor shouts from where he’s sprawled on a sofa trying to get something on the TV. “Don’t bring her any.”

“But—”

“No. The great Razor has spoken.” Marcus shoos the woman out and shuts the door.

“Then I get some of your dessert?” I’m hoping here but he shrugs.

“Half only.”

I pick up a spoon.

“When I eat my half.”

“Fine.” We’re all in our underwear, and I’d never dare wear this in front of room service in a normal hotel. I join Razor on the sofa, and Marcus brings his plate and starts sawing through steak while Razor channel-surfs the widescreen TV.

I’m stuck between the two men and this, sitting between them looking for a movie to watch stuff, it seems both mundane and exhilarating. I haven’t found my feet, haven’t truly touched ground in this relationship, when Razor slides his arm behind me and pulls me close.

“Bullet Train?” he asks.

It’s a mad ensemble of people and plotlines, and I’ve seen it before. “Hey. Why not?”

He presses play.

“I was thinking that we should talk about the island. About what Marcus found. What we might look for next?” The place cannot be that big?

“And that USB. We need clarification on what your pussy was doing with one.” I was rather hoping he’d forgotten that. Marcus angles his head to smirk at me then leans back into thesofa, still chewing. “Tomorrow morning though? I think we’re all going to be jet-lagged. We should sleep.”

“Yes.” I can see his point.

“That is absolutely a good idea. The next thing they have scheduled here is tomorrow afternoon. We have time.” Razor tosses the remote to the low glass table.

“Which thing?” My voice squeaks. I’m a little in awe of these two. I love being made to do things but am I going to survive a week of kink with them, let alone a possible murderous someone who lurks among us? “What is thisthing?”

“You’ll be fine.” Razor squeezes me against him, breathing warmly in my hair as he speaks. “Sore and bruised, with a few needle holes in you, but fine. You’ll only need a wheelchair for a few days when we get back to London.”

I snort at his description. “Lord preserve me. As they say.”

“More like Marcus and Razor preserve you.” There is amusement in Marcus’ voice.

Bullet Trainhas started, and I decide to watch and say nothing more. Besides, Marcus is right, I am feeling dead tired. Being dead anything here seems bad, and then I yawn, as if to show how correct Marcus is.

Later that night…

I jerk into reality, screaming, though my mind is also still walking in nightmare territory, and two arms pull me back down onto the bed. Two men tell me I’m going to be okay. Razor and Marcus. They ask me, quietly, whether it’s the nightmare, and I answeryes. I refuse to talk more than that. It’s late, I’m used to it. “Questions tomorrow,” I murmur.

Having them with me though, it’s good. I worm closer to their heated bodies and feel their strength, hear their breathing. My hand fits over someone’s hairy forearm when he reaches back to touch me. I leave my hand there.

I could get used to this.

Though I really wish the dreams would stop. If we work out what’s going on here, they’d better stop. I remember to whisper a promise to Milli, like I do some nights.

Knowing I have them beside me, I fall back into sleep, only slightly haunted by flitting memories of the purple-haired woman dying.

21

Phoebe

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