Page 80 of Off the Rails

My gaze flicked to the Twins in her hand. The smears of blood were distinct proof of the pain they’d already inflicted tonight. Would she deign to punish my snooping?

But I needed no reminder of the pleasure they could deliver, too. Even as she hovered over me, I couldn’t help admiring the length of the handles.

My mind flashed back to the first time she’d caught me — the Fright Night that had altered my brain chemistry enough to keep me hiding with this feral pack of lesbians. And even now, some sick part of me wanted to feel that again.

“God, Trinket. You look so pretty, all afraid and desperate.”

“I’m not desperate.”

“But you are afraid?” She shifted her hand down the wall, letting the axe blades tease the doorframe with a soft scrape.

I couldn’t hide the shudder the sound invoked, but I hoped to god that I could play it off as fear.

Apparently I didn’t have to. Shaking her head, Blade pushed off the doorframe, a low hum of laughter still rumbling from her chest.

I took the first deep breath I’d managed since they walked in, pressing my back flat against the wall as Blade sauntered off to⁠—

“Where the fuck are you going?” My heartrate ratcheted higher as Blade disappeared down the hall and into my bedroom. I chased after her, balling my sweatshirt in my fist as I stormed through my own door. “What are you⁠—?”

“Taking a shower,” Blade purred, nodding to my ensuite bathroom. “If you’d be so kind.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, spluttering for some sort of refusal.

But Blade was all too entertained by my outrage. “I don’t have to. If you’d like, I can go back and wait out in the living room for Nash to finish up. But you’re going to have to explain the couch stains to Cyrus…”

Heat flushed my chest at the threat. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.”

She shrugged, “I’ll do whatever you tell me to, Trinket.”

With a huff, I threw up my arms. “Fucking fine. Go on then.”

“That’s what I thought.” A shit-eating grin painted Blade’s lips as she disappeared into my bathroom, leaving the door wide open. I stormed across the room, tossing my contaminated sweatshirt into the hamper before sitting on my bed.

No fucking way was I leaving Blade alone in my room with unfettered access to my shit. Sure, I’d done some snooping. But I wasn’t actually going to touch her shit. Or, at least, I wouldn’t take it.

But Blade was a sick little freak. She’d probably steal my panties for a midnight snack or set a trap in my bed so I could never leave. She didn’t need any more of me than she already had.

“What a fucking bitch,” I muttered, arms crossed over my chest.

“You say something, sweetie?” Blade called back over her shoulder.

The bathroom was already filling with steam, but I could still catch little glimpses of her body through the doorway — lean muscular shoulders, spilled ink tattoos, and piercings in places I hadn’t dared imagine.

“Close the fucking door, you heathen!”

The request went unacknowledged though as she stepped under the hot stream of water. And despite myself, I was quite enjoying the view.

Too much.

I crossed my legs against my pulsing center, shifting my weight to alleviate the ache.

Need a distraction.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I checked for anything that could get my mind off of the menace occupying my shower: texts from Lola, posts socials, even YouTube videos. But all the entertainment the internet had to offer didn’t compare to the allure of wet, steamy muscles just past my bathroom doorway.

I was about to say fuck it and slam the door myself, when a notification popped up across the top of my screen: Lionshare, reporting a⁠—

“Loss?” My jaw dropped, unable to believe it. I clicked into the notification, shaking my head as the app reported one of my most sure-fire investments going belly-up. A last-minute costuming error on Sabrina’s tour, and I was down $300.