The Whipping Girls Read online

  Chapter Four

  Clover

  Shit, I wish I had a camera just to immortalize the look of shock — nay, fury — on Hunter’s face. I sway my hips as I strut down the stairs. I’m surprised no one can see the sparks our locked gazes are shooting off. He’s gone stiff — and hard — but I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, not him.

  He doesn’t have anything to say about my proclamation. Instead, as soon as my heels touch down on the ground floor, he’s at my side and herding me into the kitchen with a low, “Please excuse us,” which I think was aimed at his guests, but without his eyes leaving mine for a millisecond.

  My back slams into the kitchen wall and I moan his name, biting at my cherry-red lips.

  “What the fuck—?”

  But he doesn’t get more than that out. I grab his junk through his fancy suit and squeeze. His eyes grow hooded, but they’re still gleaming with a dark warning.

  “I’m not your fucking doll,” I whisper, putting my mouth by his ear. “You’re done playing dress up with me.”

  Sandals clack on the tiles, and I slide out from under him, raking my short nails over his ball sack as a parting gift.

  A pink-haired woman a few years younger than Hunter emerges into the kitchen, eyes wide with curiosity. “You must be Clover,” she says, her voice so tight it’s as if she’s holding back a screech of joy.

  Oh boy.

  I manage a smile, but then I’m engulfed in a rattle of bracelets and scratchy necklaces. “Uh…hi?”

  “You’re so fucking gorgeous!”

  Her voice is high pitched enough to bring goosebumps out on my arms. Hunter passes us and gives me a smug glower before disappearing to thump up the stairs.

  Rat bastard.

  I grab Alexa’s shoulders and pull her off me. “And you’re Alexa.”

  It’s not a question, but she bobs her head and flashes too-white teeth at me. “Hunter’s told me so much about you.”

  “He…has?” This flummoxes me, I’ll admit. “Like…even the heroin?”

  Alexa’s face freezes. “Wh—? Heroin?”

  “Ah.” I nod, wreathe my arm through hers, and lead her back into the living room. “So pretty much nothing, then.”

  Zee and Kane are there, and a stranger who’s standing to one side studying Hunter’s friends like they’re butterflies on a fucking cork board.

  “Alexa, this is Kane, and Zee,” I say, sweeping out an arm all hoighty-toighty like.

  Alexa seems reluctant to turn her attention from me, but when I smile encouragingly at her, she spins to them and gives them each a hug. For a moment I think Alexa’s going to snap the poor girl’s back, but Zee just looks startled before relaxing into the hug and burrowing her face into Alexa’s neon-pink hair.

  I hear footsteps, but I don’t bother looking. Hunter either went to go smoke a joint or jerk off in the bathroom. I’ll pretend like I don’t know or care, and that’ll just infuriate him more.

  I mean, fuck, what the hell was he thinking with that dress? It made me look like a fucking nineties hooker. All the way to the floor, with two slits up to mid-thigh. I have more lumps and bumps than I’m comfortable with, and that dress highlighted every single one of them.

  Fuck that shit.

  Plus, I’m really starting to take a liking to Hunter’s shirts. I don’t know what fabric they’re made of, but they’re so silky and—

  A hand clamps over my upper arm. “Can I have a word?”

  “Not right now, sweetie. We have guests.” I pull free, swing an arm around Alexa’s waist, and lead her to the dining room table. “Have you had some wine?”

  Hunter makes a noise that sounds like a growl ate a groan, and hurries ahead to pull out a chair. Alexa sits, the man who I assume is her boyfriend joining her almost immediately.

  The rest of the table fills as I take a seat at the head. Hunter takes his seat opposite me but refuses to make eye contact even when I raise a glass in his direction.

  I drain half of it, and that finally draws his eye.

  Suddenly, his face clears.

  My stomach twists in response, and I cross my legs, clearing my throat.

  Fuck…I don’t like it when that happens. He has a way of shutting down, and that’s never a good sign. I have no idea what the fuck this dinner is all about — if he really just wanted to spend some money on caviar and dry-as-fuck red wine, but it seems I’ve really hit a nerve.

  For a moment — one really brief moment — I regret.

  But then I remember how ghastly that red dress looked on me and I lift my half-empty glass again.

  “A toast!” I call out.

  Hunter’s face could have been a wooden bust. He lifts his glass of red wine, as does everyone around the table — even Zee — without batting as much as a fucking eyelid.

  “To Hunter.”

  There’s a cheer and a downing of drinks. I drain my glass, never breaking eye contact.

  As does Hunter.

  Chapter Five

  Hunter

  I message the staff who are on call for the evening, announcing that dinner has begun. They serve entrees and top up our drinks before departing like the well-trained servants they are.

  There is minimal noise from the kitchen, even though I know my personal chef slipped in a few minutes ago to begin preparing the main course.

  I’m calm now.

  Which took doing something I haven’t done in a long time.

  Something I regret.

  But, in the greater scheme of things, I will have so much more to regret in the coming days that it pales in comparison.

  Right now, I’m insulated by a thick woolen blanket. It’s not hot, or cold, but merely a dense aura that fades the outside world to something tolerable.

  Alexa’s voice is no longer so shrill.

  Kane’s stare is no longer so intense.

  And Clover’s beauty is no longer so fucking intoxicating.

  I don’t taste the wine washing over my tongue. I barely feel the food I’m grinding between my teeth. My erection’s faded, and so has the urgent, inexplicable need to claim Clover as my own.

  Perhaps it’s because I’ve finally relented to the sure knowledge that, soon, she won’t be mine anymore.

  Chapter Six

  Clover

  I’m stumped. It could be the wine; I’ve had almost a bottle to myself. But no…this is all wrong. After the stunt I just pulled, I should have the upper hand. I don’t play chess — puh-lease — but I considered myself to be checking Hunter’s fucking mate, or whatever the fuck means he’s in deep shit.

  Instead, he’s watching the dinner he arranged like it’s a play someone’s putting on just for him. He wears a faded smile on his mouth, and he’s been nursing the same glass of red wine for the past fifteen minutes.

  That worries me — as it should — but I made sure everyone got their grape juice from the same bottle; even Hunter. I wouldn’t put it past him to drug us all for whatever strange reasons he thought up in his convoluted mind.

  Servers arrive with the main meal, but I lost my fucking appetite right around the time they served me fish eggs. Hunter and I watch each other from opposite ends of the table, and I start to see — I guess — what he sees.

  The two couples to either side of us, blurred in movement as they eat, and talk, and top up their wine.

  But there’s a wall between them. Two walls — and Hunter and I stare at each other across that alleyway like dogs sizing each other up for a fight.

  Fuck it.

  It shouldn’t be this damn hard.

  I drain the rest of my wine and set it down hard enough to thump. All eyes are on me as I drag a hand over my mouth, smearing lipstick and wine.

  Heat suffuses my cheeks. And then anger, because who the fuck are they to judge?

  I grab the chair’s arms, push myself up—

  The ring of a fork against Hunter’s wine glass cuts through the air like a bomb siren.

  I slide back in my seat
, ass thumping hard enough to knock some sense back into my foggy mind.

  God, what am I doing? He bought me a beautiful dress. It’s not his fault I’ve put on a few pounds since I got here. I mean, fuck, it’s all French toast and fucking crème brûlée around here. Plus, the only exercise I get is when Dr. Hill lets me get on top, and that’s a rare fucking occurrence.

  “Thank you one, thank you all.”

  My thoughts flutter away like autumn leaves on a gust of wind.

  I stare — along with everyone else at the table — as Hunter unfolds to his full height, glass in hand and that same strange, sad smile on his face.

  Oh god, he’s got cancer.

  No, he’s moving to Alaska.

  He’s…what the fuck, Hunter?

  “It means the world to me that you could all be here tonight.”

  He turns and looks at everyone at the table — except for me.

  I guess because I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

  I slump down, crossing my arms over my chest, and try to glower at him. It’s difficult — red wine makes me sleepy, not irate.

  “Tonight’s a very special night, and I’m thrilled that I have my closest family and friends here to share it with me.”

  Special night? One side of my mouth lifts up as I peek at each face in turn. Alexa’s beaming — then again, that’s like her default setting, so no biggy — while her boyfriend’s fidgeting nervously with a napkin.

  Kane is sitting ramrod straight, ne’er an expression on his handsome face, and Zee…Well, for once, her attention is fully on Hunter. A small feat in and of itself. I notice her wine glass is topped with something green and fizzy.

  A witch’s brew.

  My smile hitches. Maybe she was the only one drugged tonight. Wouldn’t that be fucking—?

  There’s a sudden buzzing in my ears.

  When I turn to Hunter, his eyes are already on me.

  “What?” I say, sitting forward in a rush.

  There’s a moment’s frozen silence, and then Hunter clears his throat like the most gentle of gentlemen this side of Gentlemen-fucking-Ville.

  “Clover, I know we’ve only known each other for a short while…”

  My heart’s kicking against my ribs. I look away, scan all the faces now staring at me.

  Movement catches my eye, makes me turn. There’s a server with a tray of champagne. He begins serving everyone at the table — me second-last, Hunter last. Then he disappears and I hear the kitchen door closing behind him.

  My throat’s very fucking dry.

  I grab my champagne, not waiting for whatever toast Hunter’s about to unveil as I tip it back.

  Something thumps against my lips.

  Hunter walks around the table.

  I lower my glass, lick my lips, and scowl down at my champagne glass suspiciously.

  Alexa’s hands are at her mouth, her face screwed up like she’s about to start crying. Josh looks star struck. Zee has an evil fucking grin on her, and Kane looked pissed off as all hell.

  But I don’t have time to register what the fuck any of that shit means.

  Because as I’m digging a finger into my delicate little flute glass, Hunter falls to one knee in front of me.

  “Oh, Jesus fuck.” I drop the glass. It hits the arm of my chair. It shatters. Hunter turns away, eyes squeezing shut, but I can already see one of the shards bit into his cheek and brought a droplet of blood to the surface.

  He stands again, slowly, and carefully brushes his large hands over his face, as if checking for more glass.

  The silence in the room is stifling and so severe, I can’t catch my breath. Hunter fumbles on the table, his eyes on me now, not bothering to look down as he hunts between the glass fragments.

  “Clover, will you—?”

  My heels crunch on broken glass as I dart forward and throw my arms around his neck. Our lips meet in a kiss. Mine is furious, his is little more than a gentle caress.

  I hear a sigh, but it’s all so much of white noise.

  Hunter grips the back of my neck, pulls me away from him. There’s lipstick all over his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to care. He brushes his knuckle over my lips and then grabs my arm and pulls it between us.

  “Will you marry me?” he murmurs.

  Cold, wet steel slides around my ring finger but I can’t look down. I can’t look away.

  I can’t speak.

  So, instead, I nod once — hard — and kiss him again.

  Chapter Seven

  Hunter

  Despite my fix, my head’s still spinning. I guess not even heroin can dampen this moment. It feels so good kissing her that I don’t ever want to stop. But when Alexa’s voice cuts through the fog in my mind, I feel compelled to break from our embrace.

  “Good God, get a room you two!”

  I step away from Clover. Her eyes are shock-wide and the deepest blue I’ve ever seen them. But she said yes.

  She said yes.

  Dessert is served minutes later. Excited chatter fills the air with palpable energy. I’m assuming it’s positive, but it could just as well be the nervous kind.

  I’m nervous.

  Everything else still has to fall in place. What was a delicate balancing act has just transformed into a tightrope walk spanning a set of skyscrapers.

  When Alexa begins chanting ‘speech, speech, speech’ almost immediately after our dishes have been cleared, I get to my feet a little unsteadily and send a wide smile around the room.

  It’s the first time I’ve let myself become tipsy in years. And I wouldn’t even have known it, if not for Kane’s eyes on me.

  Weighing me, figuring me out.

  He’s trying to quit smoking. In fact, he hasn’t had one the whole night. But now, as I stand and lift my glass, he absently starts picking at his cuticle with a thumbnail.

  “Clover.”

  She was giggling over something with Alexa, but her attention snaps to me like I had clicked my fingers.

  Usually, that would get me hard. But right now, it just makes me tense up even more.

  I clear my throat, then again. But it doesn’t change the sudden obstruction in my gullet.

  Kane’s voice cuts through my tangled thoughts like a machete through lianas.

  “Before you go getting all sentimental and shit, let’s go for a smoke.”

  I look at him, study him, and then nod and follow him out.

  The crisp air outside my cabin knocks sense back into me, and I suck greedily at it until my lungs expand to the point of pain.

  “The fuck is all this about?” Kane asks, voice muffled.

  I look over at him, and my shoulders sag. He’s lighting a cigarette.

  Did I make him start up again?

  But he merely lights it and then hands it over to me. I stare at him for an astonished second before fixing on his fingers.

  It’s not a cigarette.

  It’s a joint.

  “I shouldn’t,” comes my voice from light years away.

  “You really fucking should.” Kane urges the joint on me, and I hit it hard and gratefully. I wish it were MJ’s strain, so this wouldn’t all feel so surreal; her shit’s grounded as fucking tree roots.

  There’s silence between us, but it doesn’t last.

  “Hunter.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut with my fingertips and then take a last drag before handing the near-finished joint back to Kane. He seems almost reluctant to take it, as if that wasn’t what he was asking after.

  “I love her, man.”

  “Yeah? Then don’t fucking marry her.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I don’t?”

  Air swirls and my eyes fly open. Kane’s up in my face, hazel eyes narrowed to slits and a nasty sneer on his mouth. “Fuck I don’t, Hunter. You got baggage. You seriously want to lump that—?”

  “I don’t care.”

  He steps back, eyes a little wider. “Then you don’t fucking love her, do you?
” He cocks his head and finishes the rest of the joint in a single, long drag.

  He might have given up tobacco, but sure as shit he hasn’t given up weed. Fuck, it’s healthier, but then he mustn’t look at me like I’m some kind of hypocrite.

  “I’m marrying her, Kane.”

  He lets out a bitter laugh, turns away, and flicks away the roach as he exhales a plume of smoke that goes on forever. He’s scratching a thumbnail against the stubble on his jaw when he looks at me again.

  “Fuck it. I guess you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” he says and heads back for the front door. I catch his sleeve, bringing him up short.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He jerks away from me and sends a brisk glare my way. “I know you’re up to something.” He gives me a quick, condescending scan. “I might not be fucking Einstein, but I know that much. Just like I know you’ll tell me about it when you’re ready.”

  Kane steps closer and stabs a finger into my pectoral. “You just better pray, when the time comes, that it’s not too fucking late.”

  He’s inside my home a moment later and I’m right on his heels. Zee throws herself into his arms as if he’s just returned from war.

  Wouldn’t that be nice? To have Clover greet me like that at the door when I’ve been gone the whole day?

  I swallow hard, force a smile back on my face, and slowly head back to my seat.

  Chapter Eight

  Clover

  I’m feeling more than a little tipsy when Hunter finally comes back inside and does his speech. Fuck, I’m a bottle and a half deep already, and giddy to boot, so I’m not even judging me right now.

  There’s a rock on my finger that could probably end world hunger for a day, but I’ve barely given it more than a glance. I’m even less of a fan of diamonds than I am of red... Go figure, right? But to me, a colorless piece of rock that can pretend to be all the colors of the rainbow just doesn’t ring true.