Circle of Death (9 page)

“Looking a little pale there,” Devlin remarks, glancing at my over his broad shoulder. “I thought you were a no-nonsense woman of the world, Logan. Don’t tell me you’re scared to see what this place is really all about.”

“Not at all,” I squeak.

“Good,” he replies, as we draw closer to the towering, stone structure. “Because I’m nowhere near done with you for the night.”

The Club stands at the highest point of the island, surrounded on all sides by the thick, rocky forest. Part of me was expecting some dinky little lookout post, but this old building is far from little. It’s the size of an estate mansion, tall and broad. The Club towers over the tree line, looking down on the wild scenes of debauchery unfolding all around the island with approval. The front doors of the structure are flung open—the tall, arched doorway looks like a grinning mouth, ready to swallow me whole.

“Here we go,” Devlin says with a wide grin.

I look at his brooding features, those darkly unreadable eyes. Despite the fact that I’ve only just met him, and know full well that he’s a dangerous outlaw, I find myself trusting him to lead me through the night unharmed. There’s something in him that I recognize. Something I can have faith in, and maybe even understand. I only catch flickers of it, simmering beneath his dangerous demeanor, but I swear it’s there. Or maybe it’s just the booze and my suddenly overactive libido talking. Either way, he’s my companion for the evening. May as well give him the benefit of the doubt.

We plunge through the wide-open doors of The Club, Devlin’s firm hand clasped tightly around my wrist. The stone tunnel we make our way through is dimly lit with torches mounted in sconces on the walls. A second set of heavy oaken doors reinforced with iron braces swims up before my barely-adjusted eyes. This false entryway must have served to keep enemies out during the Revolutionary War—and to keep inmates in afterward. But what do those imposing doors keep hidden now?

 A metallic glint catches my eye as the torchlight dances against a thin object Devlin produces from his cut. It almost looks like one of those fancy platinum credit cards. He extends the mysterious object toward the door and feeds it into an obscured slot. The heavy, clanking sound of a lock snapping open rings out through the dark passageway. That shiny sliver is a key card, I realize, as the second set of doors swing inward. I hold my breath, bracing myself for my first ever glimpse of The Club’s shrouded interior.

Sensory overload slams into me like a ton of bricks, knocking the air from my lungs. It’s as though we’ve just taken a thousand-mile step from the woods of New England to the glitziest of Las Vegas resorts. The soaring mirrored ceiling above amplifies the already unbelievable sprawl of The Club below. An expanse of earthly delights stretches before us. Black Jack, craps, and poker tables are scattered about the main room, rivaled in number only with the spinning daises bearing gleaming stripper poles and undulating nearly-naked women.

Smiling, Barbie-shaped cocktail waitresses roam the floor, bearing trays of champagne, plates of gourmet cuisine, and boxes of Cuban cigars. Sunken in the very center of the space is a shining dance floor, presided over by a lounge singer who would make Jessica Rabbit feel downright mousy.

Though the woods just beyond these stone walls are populated by the MC members in residence here on the island, all sorts of men are crowded within the interior of this vice-ridden carnival. Business types with whitened teeth and tanned skin, slender Silicon Valley geniuses in black turtle necks, grungy musicians, slick mobsters—it seems that men from all walks of wealth have been drawn in by the siren song of The Club.

I look over at Devlin Vile, my jaw hanging open in baffled wonder. But the most perplexing thing of all is that the Circle of Death president’s eyes are locked on my face. In the midst of this carnal, indulgent circus, filled with women far more conventionally beautiful than myself, it would seem that Devlin only has eyes for me.

“Think you can handle it?” he shouts over the music, his dark eyes sparkling with intrigue and desire.

I square myself against his staggering body, raising my chin defiantly. In answer to his question, I snatch a champagne flute off a passing tray and drain it in one long, bubbly gulp. The room is already starting to tilt on its axis as I lace my fingers through Devlin’s and pull him toward the teeming dance floor.

“I guess that answers that,” he laughs, as we step into the mass of writhing limbs.

I feel his firm hands on my waist as he spins me around to face him, drawing me tightly against his solid body. I gasp as he grinds his tapered hips against me, my arms falling around his shoulders. His cock is rock hard, pressing urgently against me as we fall into step. I look up into his intent, irresistible face, surprised and more turned on than I care to admit.

“Looks like the real question is,” he growls, sliding his hands along the curve of my ass, “Do you think you can handle me?”

“Devlin,” I breathe, daring to run a hand through his crop of jet black hair, “I can sure as hell try.”

As the vixenish singer wails into a swelling, sexy rendition of “House of the Rising Sun”, I give myself over to the glorious, overwhelming moment. Between the liquor and the pulsing desire building in my belly, I can’t hold onto a single care or concern that came with me to this island. All I can think of is the feel of Devlin Vile pressed flush against me, the hard length of his swollen member grinding into me. My hips gyrate madly as the music rushes to a crescendo, the crush of people all around us whipping and spinning faster and faster.

Devlin grabs my hand tightly and spins me out, snapping me into the crowd with a mischievous grin. A full-throated laugh escapes my throat as he wraps me back up in his muscular arms. I press myself to his chest, collapsing into the solid weight of him. He holds me up as my body loosens, gives up its fight against decency and decorum. Before I realize that I’m doing, I take Devlin’s perfect, bearded face in my hands and raise my lips eagerly to his.

The briefest spell of pleased surprise runs through him, giving way to a deep surge of lusty fervor. He wraps his arms around the small of my back, crushing me to him. His strong jaw works my mouth open, and his sure, expert tongue glides against my own. The taste of him is as intoxicating as anything I’ve poured down my throat this evening. I bury my fingers in his pitch black hair, letting my teeth close around his full bottom lip.

He sucks in a sharp breath as I bite him, twisting my body around so that my back is pressed against his leather-clad chest. He lowers his firm lips to the long, bare stretch of my throat. A low groan rises from my mouth and gets lost in the rollicking music as he kisses along my neck, nipping at my pale, sensitive skin. His hands glide up along my torso, sliding along the silky fabric of my blouse with ease. I screw up my eyes in ecstatic pleasure as he cups my breasts in his capable hands, brushing his thumbs against my hardening nipples.

Not a second goes by that I’m unaware of his rock hard manhood pressing against my ass. I’ve never had a one night stand in my life, never knew I could desire someone this much after a few short hours. But I know that if I don’t go to bed with this man tonight, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I spin back to face him and run my hands along his staggering cock. Need smolders in our shared gaze as I brush my fingers up and down the length of him, feeling him harden even further in my grasp. I feel myself become airborne as Devlin lifts me from the ground once more, carrying me out of the surging, roiling crowd toward a more private corner of The Club.

Only this time, I’m more than happy to let him take me.

Chapter Eight

Even after I rise back to the surface of consciousness, I keep my eyes blissfully closed. The baby soft bedding is wrapped around me like a cotton cloud, the entire world shaded the rosy pink of my eyelids. I feel better rested than I have for years—since before I started college, I’m sure. Every cell in my body feels rejuvenated, lusciously relaxed. I cuddle closer into the warm, solid embrace that cradles me, hoping this moment goes on forever...

Until my mind catches up with my body and wakes up with a jolt. My eyes spring open, landing first on the heavily inked, thickly corded arms that are wrapped tightly around my almost-naked body. I wrench my neck around to find the sleeping features of Devlin resting on the pillow beside me. Alarm crashes through my barely-awake body, and I let out a shrill yelp of distress. Scrambling out of bed, I struggle to remember where it is, exactly, that I am.

The room around me is cavernous and elegant in its modern simplicity. The walls are painted a deep, rusty red, the furniture and floor made of wide, smooth wooden planks. A sprawling king bed is positioned against the wall, fitted with the finest Egyptian cotton. And there in the middle of the king-sized nest, rousing himself from a deep sleep, is Devlin.

“How...What the hell is going on?” I demand, my breath coming in shallow bursts. “Where am I?”

“Take it easy, babe,” Devlin says sleepily, propping himself up on one brawny arm. “Just come back over here—”

“I’m not coming anywhere near you until you tell me how it is I ended up in your bed,” I rush on, looking down in a panic and the white tee and panties I’ve somehow come to be wearing. The last thing I remember about last night is leaving the dance floor with this man. I have no recollection of coming back to his room, or changing out of my clothes, or consenting to having sex. “Oh my god...” I mutter, wrapping my arms tightly around my waist. “Did we...sleep together last night?”

“You could say that,” Devlin says, sitting up with a slight smile on his face.

“I don’t remember anything,” I say softly, fighting back terrified tears.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” he shrugs, “You blacked out just as soon as we got off the dance floor. I figured I’d let you crash in my room. Made sure no one else tried to have his way with you. Hope you don’t mind I helped you into something a little more comfortable to sleep in. I promise I didn’t spend too much time ogling you.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I ask softly.

Devlin’s smile fades fast. “I don’t fuck girls who are too drunk to put two words together,” he informs me. “I don’t need to stoop that low. But thanks for your vote of confidence.”

A little wave of relief courses over me. There’s no soreness between my legs, no evidence of lovemaking. But how the hell did I get that drunk, that quickly? I only had, what, two and a half drinks? Maybe three?

“I’m sorry,” I mutter to Devlin, “I’m just a little freaked out. I need to get my things together and get down to the dock before the boat—”

But with perfect, terrible timing, my words are cut off by a long, mournful boat whistle. The sound our yacht made as it pulled away from the island last night. I rush over to the far wall, made entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, and tear open the curtains. I blink into the early morning sunlight, taking in the vast view of the island all around us. My heart sinks as I catch sight of the vessel that brought me to this place, gliding across the smooth surface of the ocean back toward the mainland. A gaggle of bedraggled girls stand on the deck, waving goodbye to the men whose beds they’ve just rolled out of.

The group’s left without me.

“Shit!” I cry, bolting across the room to the bedroom door. “Oh, shit!”

“What’re you gonna do, swim after them?” Devlin asks, blocking my way to the door. “The ship’s already sailed, babe. Literally.”

“I can’t just stay here,” I exclaim, trying to push his immovable mass out of the way, “What am I going to do for a whole extra day on this rock?”

“Extra day?” Devlin asks, his eyes widening. “Are you serious? Logan, that yacht only comes around once every week.”

“What?” I breathe, my voice hollow.

“Looks like you’re going to be here for a while,” he says, resting his hands on my trembling shoulders. “I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

In a surge of panic, I skirt around him, wrenching open the door and bursting out into the hallway. I have to catch that yacht. I’ll doggie paddle after them if I have to. I take off down the thickly carpeted hallway at a sprint, ignoring the fact that I have no idea where I’m going. I hear Devlin calling after me as I barrel along in my tee shirt and panties. I’m so overwhelmed by the direness of the situation that I don’t even see one of the other bedroom doors opening into the hallway. By the time I spot the slender figure stepping out into my path, I can’t halt my own momentum. I crash, full speed, into the other guest, sending us toppling to the floor in a bundle of tangled limbs.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” exclaims the woman I’ve collided with. Her voice is honey-sweet, with the slightest cutting edge. It sounds strangely familiar, as if I’ve heard it in a thousand recurring dreams.

“I’m so sorry,” I gush, scrambling onto my knees and offering a hand to the woman. “Let me help you.”

Her face is obscured by a wave of silky black hair that falls away as she reaches for my outstretched hand. As her features are finally revealed, I feel time grind to a halt around me. Sitting beside me on the plush carpet is a ghost. An apparition from my past, long since disappeared from the world as I know it.