A dance with devils lies.., p.11
A Dance With Devils: Lies And Truths Trilogy Book 1, page 11
Low words follow it. Too low for me to hear until I get to the main lounge and see what’s happening – or who is happening.
“Get the hell off her,” snarls out of me. Gray turns, a rise to his brow, as his damned hands try to push her into a chair. “Mine. Fuck off.”
He snorts and lets go slowly, a smile broadening at my aggressive approach. “Interesting.”
Why is he here?
“Fuck off.”
I move quickly, part wanting to shield her from him, and then shake my fucking head. That’s not right. I laugh and glower, confused as to what I’m even glowering for. Drink? She bitches behind me about something, her body getting ready to run again, as she starts clambering out of the chair.
“Sit the fuck down, Ally cat.” Her head whips up to look at me, anger flaring across her features. I don’t care at the moment. I’ve got things to think about – sense to find. “Stay still.”
“Are you alright?” Gray asks.
Yes. Of course I’m alright. Or not.
I cross over the room, searching for vodka in all these colours that keep spinning around my face. “Why are you here?”
“Invited?”
“Not anymore. Go away.”
He sits in the chair under the window, casually unbuttoning his jacket. “No.”
“She’s mine.”
“Alright.”
“Where’s yours?”
“Down, down, down, apparently.”
Good. I’ll fuck her later then. “What were you doing with mine?”
He’s silent for a while, nothing but his fucking questioning eyes making me feel something like jealousy. Haven’t felt that for a while. “Attempting to cover her with my coat,” he says. “She’s freezing.”
I look back at her, her legs tucked up tight as she glares at both of us, and notice the long, wool coat that lies beside her for the first time. “Put it on, little Alice.” She does slowly, or at least pulls it over her body.
Quiet again. Better.
Vodka poured into me, I turn again to look at her. She’s still glaring, but looks somewhere near reasonable in colour now rather than the blue that was settling in. My head shakes, body falling against the fireplace, and I rub over my eyes, as a laugh peels out of me.
Fucked.
Hunt, hunt, hunt. And I was doing.
Until he came here and screwed up my plan.
My gaze flicks to him, stern eyes attempting to tell him to leave. As usual, he doesn’t give a fuck about my opinion and just stares back. He never has. He’s one of the few I can count on for absolute honesty because of his mysterious brain that only thinks logically about anything.
Not his little Hannah, though. Nothing logical there
Pretty thing.
I amble to one of the couches, body collapsing onto it so I can kick my feet up and watch these colours still bouncing around the space.
“What’s happening here?” Gray asks, quietly.
“Nothing,” I mutter in reply.
“Liar.”
He stands and walks over to my Alice, his hand reaching for her. “Don’t touch her,” snaps out of me, hackles all over the goddamned place. I shift in my seat, eyes like a fucking hawk at both of them for reasons I’m not accepting.
“Cigarettes. Inside pocket,” he says, moving upright again and beckoning his hand. She looks confused, like nothing makes any sense at all. I know the feeling. “I’m not touching her, Malachi.”
Good.
I frown until she throws them at him and he starts backing off again. I don’t need his kind of attractiveness getting in the way of my hunt. Not that she seems to give a damn. She’s too busy trying to spin the air around with her hand now, occasionally batting at it as if trying to clear her vision.
“Which colours?” he asks, sitting again. “And how many have you both had?”
She giggles and then crawls sideways, ducking her head under the coat. “So dark in here,” she mumbles. “Black eyes. All black.” I smile and watch, for some reason fascinated with her legs and dirty feet. “Where are you?”
“Here,” rumbles out of me. "There."
Her head pops out again, eyes wide as she looks at me across the room. “Closer,” she says, ducking her head back under again. “So close. White lights. I can taste you. Run Alice, Run.”
“Malachi?” Gray.
“What?”
“Is this the girl from-“
“Yes. Mine.”
“She looks better here. Attractive.” My neck twists, eyes glaring at him. He smirks and pulls on his cigarette, as he looks me over, smoke blowing out afterwards. “And you’ve said that several times already.” A bottle comes out of his pocket, pills tumbling into his palm before he swallows several and chuckles “Are you worried I’ll steal her?”
No. Yes. “Fuck off.”
Steal her? He couldn’t. Or shouldn’t. I turn back, thoughts more interested in the occasional yelps that keep coming from under the coat. Besides, he’s got his own thing to play with, and I’m happy to shred her skin wide open if he dares come anywhere near mine.
“How many have you had?” he asks again.
I don’t know. Don’t care either now. My little Alice. All mine, as she searches for me under his coat. We could both get under it, find out things about each other. Or I could take her to one of my rooms. Indulge myself with skin and bones. I need that.
“Malachi?”
No. No talking. Just skin and bones.
Maybe more vodka to ramp up the hunt.
Chapter 15
Ally
S o dark in here. Oooh. There’s some light up there, people talking. Men talking. Low voices. Where’s Malachi? He was here. He was. He told me he was here, but not close enough. And then there was another man – big. I know him. I’ve seen him somewhere before. Colourful. Not like all the blacks and whites and nightfall in here with Malachi. Nightfall? Yes. It’s night-time. I can hear the birds, the wolves howling. Warm now, though. Hot. No cold and snow anymore. Devil's night.
“RUN!”
My hand shoots to my mouth, unsure if I said that or not. I should be hiding, not shouting. My head sneaks out the cover, eyes peering around the room to see if anyone’s here. No one is that I can see. It’s quiet and still. No movement. No men. No Malachi. Only a fire roars away in the room. Big fire. So hot. I’m sweating because of it. Dripping wet. I can feel it all over me, creeping into places like insects eating me. Still dark, though. Insects like the dark. They can hide in crevices.
Stay small and hidden.
A laugh escapes me at the thought, as the cover gets flung off my body and I crawl my way towards the fire. No insects on me. Only mouths. Malachi’s mouth. My fingers reach for my lips again, caressing them. His mouth was on mine. It was. It was strong and fierce and consuming. And I could feel his skin on my hands, cold and hard under my touch. And then they were inside me – deep inside me. Fingers twisting and turning, making me moan. But then I had to run. Had to get home and away from all this. He told me that. Run, he said, run. I didn’t want to, though. I wanted to stay, to dwell and linger in the cold with him.
Why is it so hot?
Fire.
My body scurries backwards away from the flames, hands clawing at the dress beginning to stick to me, until I hit a corner and huddle in it. Too hot. Burning. I swat out at the heat, flicking it away from me and trying to fan my face. But it keeps coming, all of it consuming me and making me feel suffocated. Cold. I need cold again. And this fucking dress keeps sticking and restricting me. I want it off, want out of it so I can move again and get to the cool wind and the birds outside.
Fly. I could fly like them. Let the wind take me higher into the squalls and snow. The thought makes me search the skies through the window, watching for small flickers of birds swarming high above in the darkness. They’ll be soaring up there – free and alive. No running for them. No need.
Shoving and scratching out at the material, I eventually fling it off me and lean back on my ass, eyes still searching for my birds. Where are they? I can hear them – out there. Wolves too. They’re hunting. Running like the wind and chasing their prey. They can’t reach the birds, though.
Nothing can up there in the sky.
“Have fun, little thing,” someone says.
Who was that? A man. I look up – left and right. Feet. Legs. Pinstripe suit. I watch a jacket fall to the floor in front of me, the legs moving away. Further, and further. Loud. Echoed on the floor. He’s laughing. Laughing to himself about something. And then – gone.
My hands drop to the floor, knees crawling me towards the door I’m near quickly so I can peer out into the hall. Nothing there again. No men. I’ll find my birds. Join them. Rise above the snow and look down on the wolves as they run. I’ll laugh then, too. I’ll stretch my wings and glide, not caring for the threat beneath me anymore or bad men who want me.
“Where are you going, Ally cat?”
Who was that? Another one.
My eyes chase corners, knees hurrying me along the carpet towards the stone floor I can see in the distant, dark tunnel. I’ll get there and then find doors that lead me up. Up must mean a roof, and roofs mean I can fly with my birds. I quicken, hands and knees dragging me until I force myself upright and begin running again. Run. Faster.
Run, run, run.
Must run faster.
But the faster I run, the more the lights start again. Flashes start, lightning bolts cracking brightness through the tunnel that’s turning and spinning in front of me. My stomach spins with it, eyes trying to keep me balanced as I run.
A sudden pain pulls on the back of my neck, legs lifting from the ground beneath me. I’m flying? No. Not yet. I’m not outside. Too warm still for wings and soaring. Something’s got me. Teeth in my neck. I can feel them biting in, ravaging. My body twists, turns, tries to get away from the jaws gripping me. I can’t escape, though. Too tight. And claws are gripping in, holding me tightly and dragging me somewhere.
Both my arms flail and grab out. Things hit my hands, objects tumbling passed my grip until I manage to hang onto something. It’s thin in my grasp, but it doesn’t stop me wielding it around and around until it hits whatever’s got me. A shout sounds out. Loud and ominous. I don’t care.
Must get away, must run.
The object swings again in my hands, my arms bashing it about. It lands heavily on something, but nothing changes. I’m just hauled and dragged, the grip getting tighter and tighter. And it’s so dark again – pitch black. No lights now. No anything but this grip and this obsidian tunnel.
Something gets pushed in my mouth, a hand smothering me again until I swallow and start thrashing again. More pills. What are they? Why? What’s happening here?
Run, must run away.
“Calm down.” No. No calm. I’m not calming down at all. “This will hurt more if you don’t.”
What?
I kick out again, the thing in my hand flinging and beating at anything it can. It’s ripped from my hold, and pain sears across my face instantly. I tumble from it, all the hold around me suddenly gone, and unexpectedly I’m on the floor again. My head whips up, glare aimed at anything that moves, as I grip my cheek. Nothing does. Not one thing. I’m in a room – a black room. No light anymore. No lightning until – there. Flicks of it. Flicks and flecks striping the air up with slithers of distortion.
“Malachi?” No sound. Not even my birds or wolves. “Where are you?”
“Here.”
My frame spins, hands scratching the ground to get me facing him. He looms over me, a smile on his face about something, blood running from his head, and no shirt. My mouth opens, heat reverberating through me because of the visual. So tall. Big. Muscles. Dark eyes.
My eyes. I remember that.
My fingers touch my cheek, run to my lips, gently tracing lines I can still feel him on. Taste him on. He was there, on me. In me. My body writhes at the memory of it, almost melts under his gaze. So hot again. Humid and cloying. And that lightning – so, so appealing. So full and light and bright in my dark tunnel. I could melt here with him, lose consciousness and dwell in the glows and streaks. That’s what I want – to lose myself. Be lost in the wilderness – free to run and fly and find my way with him. I can’t, though … Run. I need to run and fly away.
From him.
“Pretty little Alice. Are you ready to fall?”
Fall where? I can’t fly yet. No falling for me.
Not ready.
Scuttling backwards, I close my mouth and push myself into a corner again. I need the birds for falling. They’ll help me – show me how to ascend. Up. I have to go up. All the way up to the snow and the cold and the wind.
“Up,” mumbles out of me. “Up. I need up and my birds before that.” He frowns and walks, purposeful strides coming closer and closer as if my words mean nothing to him. “You don’t understand. I need them.” My back climbs the wall, feet pushing me upright until I’m somewhere near his eye-line. “I need them so I can be free. Not hunted. In the dark –with you. I need my birds for flying.” The boots stop, his head tilting, and my fingers gingerly reach for his face. “I can fall then. It’ll be alright to fall. Come with me. We’ll be safe.”
Such dark eyes. All mine if I want them. I know that. Can feel it inside me, just like I can feel his weight getting closer and closer. Blood slips over my fingers from the cut on his forehead. It sits on the pads, gently tricking into the grooves and ridges on my hands. My blood – his.
Ours.
My hand pulls back, eyes tracing lines on his chest that I want to touch. “I’ll fall and not worry anymore, Malachi. Help me find my birds.”
No response. Just his face and his chest and his size making me feel so small, so insignificant. I’m not, though. I’m me. Alice Maria Contreas. I think I’m me anyway. I knock my head, shoulders brushing the wall, as the lightning keeps glancing off his body. Alice can’t fall until she’s secure, until her brothers are. We’ll be free then. Nothing to worry about. “They’re up, Malachi. Up high. You know they are.” He does. I can tell. He knows me – is inside of me with me. He should feel it, understand.
Still nothing.
I back along the wall, shuffling my body until I’m under the frame and out into one of the halls. It isn’t until I get there and stumble across a large, ornate mirror that I remember I’m in underwear that isn’t mine, the dress discarded. I falter at the sight of myself, eyes taking in the fine, blue lingerie and my mass of dishevelled curls skimming my breasts. That isn’t me. It doesn’t look like me anyway. Maybe it is here, though. Maybe I’m different now – like the birds that keep calling for me and the wolves that keep chasing.
My fingers rake over the glass, tracing lines reflecting back at me with the blood on my fingers. All my tattoos are there, all the flowers and the colours under blue scrapes of material. It is me – must be. And wings. I’ve got wings coming from my eyes, black streaks of them cutting a line of dark shadows. A laugh giggles out, fingers sharpening the wing to a point with red blood and then smoothing my hair into shape. A hawk – that’s what I am. A hawk that will hunt rather than flee.
A sexy hawk at that.
I pitch, turn, look at my ass and my legs and then tilt my chin.
Better. Stronger.
“Come with me,” his voice says. I glance right to see him moving, his boots almost spinning up the wall as he goes down our tunnel. Maybe he can fly to? We’ll both fly. Fly out of this tunnel and soar across the world.
“Why?”
“Sssh. Trust me.”
He waits and beckons his fingers back at me, wiggling them as if I should hurry and catch him – hold his hand. That was nice. I remember it, remember chasing after him as he pulled me along to the outside world. I need that like I need my birds, need that feeling, as if the two are mutually joined somehow, but trust? He was hunting me, making me run like I have done for years.
Lightning flashes slowly as I get to him, the tunnel brightening and bouncing around me, as we both spin without moving. “Freak,” muses out of me.
He chuckles and squeezes his hand around mine, dragging me closer until I’m under his arm and we’re walking as one. “We all are,” he says, lowly. “Reality out there isn’t what we’re supposed to be. It’s real here.” He stops and pulls me to his lips again. “Can you feel that? Hear it? Lovely.”
My body sways under his, arms being moved into some dance hold I’ve never even tried.
“I don’t d-“
“Move with me,” he murmurs. “Give me this. Don’t think. You’re safe for now.”
And then we’re dancing. We’re dancing through corridors that keep turning and twisting around us continuously. I close my eyes to the walls undulating and pulsing, just giving in to the feel of him controlling me like a puppet. Left, right. Spin and turn. It goes on and on, my body folding and changing wherever he takes me. Everything clears, goes darker and deeper than it was before. I’m whirling, my hair swishing out as his skin holds me firmly against him. Lips touch my neck, nibbling gently across my throat and chest, as I’m leaned back through another whirl.
Flying – I’m flying. Spinning.
Twirling.
“Beauty,” he says. “Beauty and offerings. Who are you little Alice?”
My feet lift from the floor, his hands somehow managing to keep me aloft. Quick steps. Smooth steps. All of them moving me around through the dark. Over and over again until I’m giggling and losing myself in the flow. I can hear people, music. It’s like it was in that cavern, hundreds of us moving seamlessly around each other. Only this time it’s me in the middle with Malachi, me feeling him all over me.
It’s all low and rumbling, like the bass is bleeding through him into me to bind us closer. Dense notes, stifling and strange as they land on my skin and heart. Chilling almost, but for him holding me so tightly. There’s still something, though. Some wind I can’t find – some elevation or pitch I’m not blended with.
