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“Oh my god!” I let my pounding head fall into my hands, pressing the tips of my fingers against my forehead. The pressure and the coolness offer me a little reprieve from the violent pulsing in my temples. I toss the blanket aside and make to stand, but Rhea catches my arm and shakes her head. “I just need a shower before we go. What time is it?”
“You’re not going anywhere.” Rhea’s eyes rove over me and then she points at the pillow. “Lay back down.”
“I came here for the funeral.” I argue weakly. “I’m not letting you go alone.”
“I won’t be alone.” Her voice is soothing as she puts a gentle hand on my shoulder and nudges me just hard enough for my exhausted body to comply. I lay back, rolling to my side to see her better. “I’ve got Remy. You don’t need to worry about me, Claire. Just worry about yourself right now.”
I’m way ahead of her on that one, but I decide not to mention it. I nod a little and try not to get too emotional. I think my throat is threatening to close… it’s thick with tears I try not to shed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me.” Rhea sighs. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”
“No.” I press my hand more firmly over the back of my eyes, fighting the wave of nausea rising up in me. “I’ll be fine after I get some sleep.”
I don’t believe it myself. The only way sleep will help is if it takes away the pain and keeps it away, too. “I’ll go ask Elaine for the sleeping pill.” I feel her move off the bed, the mattress shifting as she stands. I also hear her footsteps like thunderclaps as she walks to the door, where she hesitates a moment before speaking. “Claire?”
“Rhea?” I manage, though her name is frail on my tongue. I’m just so tired.
“I love you. You know that, right?”
“Mmm.” It’s all I can manage. If I open my mouth, there is an acute possibility that I will throw up, and I definitely don’t want to do that… at least, not in front of Rhea.
Fortunately, she must be satisfied with my response. She shuts the door, the soft sound of the latch echoing in my skull like my screams in the empty warehouse.
I sit up so fast that the dark room blurs before me as I rush to the bathroom.
And I lift the lid just in time to throw up.
Chapter five
Remy
“I knew you’d come for me eventually, Boudreaux.” Wes grins. I removed the rag from his mouth not even thirty seconds ago, and already he’s spouting off. Part of me wants to just shove it back in so far he chokes on it and walk away.
But I’ve been putting this conversation off long enough. Dimitri agreed to take care of my supposed half-brother while I’m busy worrying about Claire. He’s set up in the guest house to make sure Wes doesn’t get an opportunity to escape, taking him to the bathroom like a dog a couple times a day. It’s better than he deserves, but this is my guest house. I don’t need him stinking it up any more than he already has.
“If you’re going to speak, you’d better be saying something important.”
I pull the chair out from under the nearby desk and swing it around in front of me. Wes arches an eyebrow as he watches me sit backwards on it, leaning my arms against the top of the backrest. He grins, far too unconcerned given the situation he’s in.
Arrogant little fucker.
“Okay, Boudreaux. What do you want to know? You want to hear about how my father fucked your mother before you were even a thought in her empty little head? Or do you want to talk about your dead daddy some more?”
I flex my fist, trying to let go of some of the tension that has built in me. Over the course of the last few days, it’s only seemed to escalate. I need to get out of the house, to get answers, to face Davos myself. I can’t do any of that yet… not while I still have to worry over the girls.
“Neither, huh?” Wes tips his head, realizing that I’m not taking his bait. “How’s Claire?”
Wes is good. He knows what he’s doing, choosing his words to get under my skin, seeing my weaknesses and figuring out how to exploit them. I suppose he’s had to be good, growing up with a man like Alexandre Davos as his father. I thought I’d had it bad growing up with Jonathan Boudreaux, but my father was just a pawn in Davos’ game, which means that Wes probably had things just as bad as I did. His father is the gamemaster, and everyone else in his life is his to play with. But not me. Not anymore.
“Claire is great.” I lie. I don't even know why I say those words, other than that I can't stand the thought of him knowing just how badly he’s broken her. I know how lucky she is that I found her in time, and I don’t doubt that she knows as well, but that doesn't mean that what she went through before I stepped in is somehow lessened by how much worse it could have been. The depravity, the depth of darkness that she narrowly escaped, is lost even upon her. I’ll spend every minute that I can trying to make sure that she never has to learn the extent of evil she’d nearly been consumed by.
Still, Wes smirks, calling me on my bullshit without so much as a single word. “Fabulous.” He says. “Maybe we can kiss and make up. You know, prior to her getting herself involved in your mess, I had every intention of spreading that little cunt myself. Maybe we can share?”
Wes finds his mark as rage sears in the pit of my stomach, smoke curling in my soul.
He wants a reaction? I’ll give him one.
I stand calmly, the fury building in me just under the surface. I appear calm enough that Wes decides to keep going. “I like when they scream, you know? If it’s pain or pleasure, doesn’t matter.” He shrugs. “Think she’ll scream if I take her ass while you watch?”
