Secret Worlds (78 page)

She ticks up the corner of her mouth. I think it's meant to be a friendly gesture. She might want to practice in the mirror. 

She nods for me to follow. I clomp across the chamber after her. Her long blue dress with elaborate gold trim swishes on the floor as she walks. Her dark hair is twisted on top of her head, revealing her slender tan neck. No one could deny the likeness between her and Silvia.

We exit out the side door and follow down a hallway into one of the libraries. The main area of my house would fit into this one room.

As soon as she closes the door behind us, her attempt at angelic falls off like a snake skin. “Silvia wants to go out.”

My stomach twists, but I play it cool and shrug. “She need some bar recommendations?”

Eileena's eyes narrow. “You will take her, Dimitri. Else I might need you to do some runs in South America for me. Deep in the jungle. No air conditioning, no hot water. One little wish from Karl. Don't think I can't convince him to do it.”

“I would go with 'nag like the bride of Satan,'” I say, “but 'convince' is a good word too.”

She takes a step toward me.

I put up my hands. “Okay, I got it. I'll take Silvia out.” 

“Now,” Eileena says.

I push past her, out of the library, and head to Silvia's suite. I knock on her door. 

She answers, and her eyes flash but not with surprise. It's that unsettling look she always gives me.

She clasps her hands in front of her and says, “Oh, Dim! I wasn't expecting you!”

I size her up. Her hair is pulled back in some ponytail thing and she's loaded down with jewelry.

“Yes, you were,” I say. “So shut up and let's get this over with.”

I stalk down the hallway. She follows after, jingling behind me as we exit out one of the front doors. I don't slow as I cross the yard to my Accord, which is waiting unlocked with the keys on the dash.

I drop inside and start the engine. Silvia crawls into the passenger seat, then stares at me as I back out of the estate and onto the dirt road.

She lights up a cigarette. “Why do you drive these piece of shit cars?” 

“Tell your dad to get me a new Bugatti.” I roll down the windows because cigarette smoke lingers in upholstery forever. It's disgusting.

“I'll buy one for you.” She taps ashes out the window.

I scoff. “You really have no idea how this operation works, do you?”

“Yes, I do, and that's why I'm going to change shit around here once my old man keels over.”

“The way you smoke, he's going to outlive you.”

“Hmm, I don't think so.” She flicks the barely-used cigarette out the window. 

She picks up my hand lying on the console. I resist pulling away because, in truth, I am her inheritance. The thought always makes me a little dead inside.

She rubs her thumb over each of my fingertips in turn. I don't think they feel any different than normal ones—the morsels from the bar never seem to notice—but Silvia has a strange fascination with the fact I don't have fingerprints. 

She puts my hand back down like it's a porcelain ornament and then lights up another cigarette. 

“Your mother might have a son before Karl drops from a heart attack,” I say, trying to get our conversation back on track before she takes to touching me again. “The oldest male gets the master bond first, then his heirs. Then the next male and his heirs, until there are no more men and heirs. Then it moves over to the women.”

“Preference to boys, I know. Don't you think that would have happened already?” She jettisons her cigarette. She is the most wasteful person I've ever met. Can't wait to see what wishes she has in store for me. “My mother took care of that problem long ago. It's about time the women get a turn with the genie.”

I glance at her from the corner of my eyes. “I don't sing or dance or juggle.”

“I'm sure we can find other things to do.” She props her head on her hand, elbow on the console, and sighs like a lovesick princess. I swear she's stuck at thirteen years old. “What do you think would happen to our first born? Genie or master?”

I fight down a shudder. “Doesn't matter, because the world would end the day we ever … ” 

The shudder finds its way out.

“Unless I wish it,” she says.

I slam on the brake. “Get out.”

Her mouth twitches up like her mother's little venomous smile. “What?”

“Out.” I point at her and then the door. “You. Now.”

She leans back in the seat and blows her hair out of her face. “Oh, Dim.”

“I'm serious,” I say, because I mean it.

She looks at me, and her smile falters. “Daddy wouldn't be happy with your disrespect, Dimitri.”

“Go fuckin' tell him.” I clutch the steering wheel. “I'm sure he would love to know you plan to mix up the bloodlines.”

She flutters her eyes in that way that makes me want to smack her in the face with a ball peen hammer. “I don't see what the big deal is.”

“Get out, Silvia.” 

She does, but she walks around the front of the car and comes up to the driver side window. She leans in, her arms folded over the door. 

“Don't forget who's next in line for you to serve, Dimitri.”

I look at her. “If there's a God, I'll have an aneurysm first.”

Then I step on the gas.

The drive back into Phoenix is straight through the desert. I blast MP3's on the radio, speeding the whole way. There's no cops out here. No highway patrol. Just me and the cacti and a few shrubs that are probably cursing where they decided to take root.

When Nine Inch Nails comes on, I turn the radio up louder. I like him. Not sure he really knows what he's talking about, though. He fails to take in account that sometimes you can't die instead of giving up control. But it's great driving music, and I'm back in Phoenix before my eyes completely close. 

Phoenix never looks so inviting as when returning from a kill. The best part of being home is the fact I'm not Ralf, I'm not Alan, and I'm not Leo. I'm me and sometimes, for a few hours, I can pretend I'm never going to bow down again.

Thudding from the front of the house jerks me from sleep. I rub a hand over my eyes as I sit. More knocking. If that gorilla-pounding can be called a knock.

I grab my phone from the nightstand. I have somewhere in the ballpark of one million new text messages.

Shouts carry through the house, muffled by the front door.

“Jesus, Mary, and the Easter Bunny,” I mutter, heading toward the living room. I flip on the light and blink a few times, eyes stinging, then yank open the door. “The dead are awake, so you can stop now!”

Syd lifts an eyebrow. “I thought you were going to call me when you returned?”

“I just got home.” I step back as she pushes inside. “Some people sleep, Syd.”

She clunks her purse onto the coffee table. “I can't. Do something about it.”

I shut the door and lock it behind me as I check her out. Her skirt is basically streamers. She's wearing fishnets, ass-kicking boots, and so many layers hoisting up her cleavage, I can't even begin to guess how many wrappings I'll be undoing. Thank you, Santa Clause.

I cross the room and snag her around the waist. My hand goes to the back of the head, pulling her in for a hard, heavy kiss. 

By some act of auto-navigation, we wind up on my bed. I'm on top of her, both of us still clothed because we can't seem to unlatch our mouths. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I realize just how little her skirt actually covers. My pajama pants and her panties are the only thing between us. 

I reach down with one hand and fix both problems. Her kiss deepens as I slide into her. She's already primed and waiting. Good girl.

She tilts her head away just long enough to gasp my name. I could do a whole year's worth of daily positions with her tonight. Leap Day too, and a Thanksgiving bonus.

The boots, however, have to go. Come to find out, they have little spikes on the back. 

I pull out and bring her legs around to the front, setting her heels on the bed. “Unless there's handcuffs to follow, these things need to disappear.”

She sits up with her legs spread, wiping her mouth, and unties her boots. I take a seat on the mattress next to her. Her shoes clunk to the floor, one after the other. Then she leans over and starts sucking on my neck. As much as I would like for her to do anything she wants, I can't let her leave behind evidence. The last thing I need is Silvia seeing marks on her inheritance. 

So I sit Syd up on her knees and kiss the small area of her belly peeking between the tight shirts and the waist of her skirt. Her hands slide through my hair, and she gives a soft moan.

Maybe she does have a slew of men at her disposal, but I haven't been home even a full night and she's already back in my bed. That has to count for something.

I slip out of my pants as she more gracefully slides off her skirt and panties. I lean back on the bed, guiding her over me. She sits down slow, deliberate, and right on target.

Her hands go behind her back, and then her shirts loosen. She tosses the shirts onto the bed, and she's wearing nothing but the two roses tattooed on her thigh and hip. I fight back the urge to make her hyperventilate.
She leans in, her naked breasts pressing against the front of my shirt. Her head settles next to my ear. 

She whispers, “Take what you want, Dimitri.”

Has she memorized a book of all the right lines to say?

I push into her harder, pulling her hips down. She rocks slowly, her wetness pressing against me, and then deepens the motion as her body clenches. I urge her faster, and she gives me everything I want. My hand caresses down her breasts as my heart rate increases, then linger on her hips. The intensity builds, tightening my muscles. My fingers clamp onto her back, shoving her body close to me, as I fill her. I bury my face into the top of her head, and she keeps riding until it's over.

She lifts her head to look up at me, eyes devious. “Again.”

“Easy, tiger.” I grin and guide her mouth back to mine. 

Her lips are always so warm and soft, like the rest of her body sprawled across mine. Nothing has ever felt so amazing.

She backs away, lifting to her hands and knees. I sit up just enough to remove my shirt and toss it aside, then cup her jaw to bring her in again. She plants a kiss on my lips, across my chest, down stomach, and then keeps going. I lie back on the bed. 

Her lips graze over me and I'm at attention again. Her tongue swirls over the head, then she takes me into her mouth.

Oh, yeah. Syd is a rockstar.

Her mouth continues to slide up and down, her hands following after. As much as I would like to find out how far she will go with this, I want her skin on mine, her body close.

“C'mere.” I lift onto my elbows and use one hand to brush back her hair.

She glances up at me, and I doubt she realizes how that makes me want her even more. With a final stroke and a parting kiss, she sidles against my side. I roll her a little to her back and crawl over her. She pulls my face close for another kiss, and it's so rough and hungry her whole body gets into it.

God. Damn.

I spread her legs apart with a hand on the inside of each of her thighs and pull away to sit back and take in the view. Un-fuckin-believable. I slide a finger into her warmth. She shudders and pushes her hips down. I want more of that. Against me. Caused by other parts of me.

I reposition between her legs. When I sink inside, her hands clench the blanket. I thrust until she's a gasping, squirming, beautiful mess who can barely say my name. Her legs wrap around my waist, pull me in and lock me there. Her hips undulate, then she lets out a sound that's a moan and a sigh and a something else entirely.

Her breasts heave a few times. Then she lifts her head to look at me. I have no idea what that look means, but it makes me want to keep her here, right next to me, forever.

That can't happen. 

I lie beside to her, panting, and pull her back against my chest. She cuddles into my arms.

I brush her hair out of the way and kiss the silver-studded ear, then whisper, “Can you sleep now?”

She gives a small noise of affirmation, barely nodding. In a few minutes, she's comatose. 

My eyes are heavy and aching, but I'm not ready to sleep yet. I just want to enjoy her being here.

In the morning, I will have to figure out how to tell her the truth: she can't come back.

***

Breakfast makes me nervous. I resent the fact this is the first time I've eaten with Syd, and yet I have to analyze everything she says to find a way to tell her we're over. Whatever we were, it no longer is. 

She's going to be pissed. I should be flattered that someone like her wants to hang around, but I knew better than to let her think we might have a future together. We don't. Not even as long-term bang buddies.

She places a bagel on a paper towel in front of me at the breakfast bar, then turns to the counter to prepare hers. Who knew the rockstar was domesticated?

She has her back to me. “Do you work today?” 

I take a bite of my breakfast. “Not that I'm aware of.”

She brings her bagel around to my side of the bar and claims the next stool, turning sideways to face me. Her pale bare legs intertwine with the legs of the stool. She's wearing just panties and one of the small, tight shirts. Her hair and makeup are a tamed mess. I would do her again in a nanosecond. But she has to go. My brain can't wrap around any other feasible option. I have two major issues. Problem
numero
uno
: Silvia will go postal if she finds out about my escapades. I've kept them hidden so far, but it's really just a matter of time before she crosses paths with my guest. Problem
numero
dos
: Syd is only going to tolerate my jerk off behavior for so long.

I would tell her the truth, but I can't. Literally. I never would have guessed how much of a problem that would become. This life is always full of unpleasant surprises.

When I was growing up, I spent a lot of time in the Walker household. Karl treated me as well as his own offspring, but differently. He would routinely ask my father what I weighed and how I was doing in my studies, like he kept track.