I know the question is innocent, but it doesn't stop the burning that's moving from my neck, flushing my face. We do match, both our attires are silky, sheer and black, making us look like the dark villains of a story. Wren a ruler of darkness and me his queen in draped sparkles. It does look like we planned our outfits, when in reality I just put on what I was told to wear. I feel naive suddenly, allowing Corbin to once again dictate my outfit in what resembles control to him. As if he senses my tension, Wren lets go of Phin and gives her a soft smile, his palm squeezing my hip. “We're playing husband and wife, so obviously my love had to look as devilishly handsome as me.” My blush continues to flare, so I take a long swig of champagne to try and cool myself, grumbling under my breath.
“This is going to be a long night.”
He smirks, our eyes finally meeting after I’ve tried so hard to resist. Raising his eyebrows the slightest fraction, he stares at me with something daring and wicked sparking in them. He’s so fucking gorgeous it’s annoying, and I must be imagining his grip tightening.
Corbin clears his throat and the noise is the only reason I’m able to pull myself away from him. Mavis shuffles uncomfortably, looking off into the gardens.
“Phin was telling me you picked most of our costumes. You chose Robins, right?” Wren asks him, and I feel the tension in his body where we’re pressed together, my hand shooting to grab his wrist in a silent plea to not bring up my freak out on the stairs.
Our little group has dispersed and thankfully Aya isn’t paying attention, but I do wonder what her opinion would be on the dress her fiancé picked out for me. She was engaged in a hushed conversation with her brother, his eyes briefly tracking Mavis walking past them, heading to the gardens where Bran and Jay tinker with the high hat cymbal. Both men brighten immediately at her. They’re now accompanied by more strangers, five guest musicians who have started to unload more instruments from their cases.
“I did. However, I’m pretty sure that dress didn't come with a jacket—you’re not special, everyone else is in costume Robin. Take it off.” There's such distaste in how he says my name and he takes a slight step towards us, away from Aya. She's completely oblivious to the viper in her keep. I'm momentarily stunned at his abruptness, and it becomes very clear he knew how uncomfortable this dress would make me feel. He's right, I’m not special. Not amongst literal models.
A strong feeling of wrongness hits me and I’m suddenly struggling to breathe. Memories pummel into me, days spent in silence whilst he ignored me as punishment for whatever I haddone to upset him. The silent treatment would burn a fire in my veins, scorching me worse than not being able to solidify in my mind what I had possibly done wrong. Days could roll into weeks and then he’d return to paying me attention, like he hadn’t dropped completely off the face of the earth. I really thought I was over this, over his treatment of me, but maybe I had a long way to go like my therapist had tried to gently remind me.
Wren speaks before I can try to muster anything from my dry lips. “You wouldn't deny my poor wife her husband’s jacket, when she's cold would you? I mean we're in character,” Shrugging casually he puts his tattooed hands into his pockets. “Pretty sure she can wear what she wants, right Corb? It's just a little game after all.” That smirk I had started to like was nowhere to be seen now, the entire muscle in his jaw practically throbbing.
As Aya leaves her brother, her arm returns to his shoulder and I hope her presence is enough to simmer down this tension. His eyes bore into Wren and after what feels like the longest minute of my life, he puts his own hand over hers and they turn away like we hadn’t even spoken. I can’t help but let out a relieved breath, because this time I welcome his silence, if it means he leaves me alone. We watch them find an empty table on the grass and she slips onto his lap, adjusting herself to watch the band. I can’t help wondering what she’s like; if she’ll sing or just mock the concept like I know he will. She looks radiant and content sitting with him, unaware of the monster he is.
WREN is still quiet as he leads me down the patio, hand on the small of my back as we walk towards where the guys are sitting at a larger round table. It accommodates at least eight and is situated the closest to where a bar has been set up, as well as hanging lights just off the swimming pool and guest house. Phin had mentioned they planned to find a groundskeeper whocan live in the small house, but as Lily slips out from the periwinkle door, setting off the bungalow's front light, I assume they haven’t hired anyone. We reach the table at the same time, her cheeks flushed slightly, meaning she’s probably a couple of champagne glasses in at this point. I realise apart from greeting me when I arrived at Nightingale house, I haven’t seen much of her today and god do I want some familiarity right now. Signalling to the two free seats next to her brother, she waves me off, her eyes darting down to where Wren’s tattooed hand rests on my skin. Heat stings my cheeks and the overwhelming urge to force distance between us takes over me as I round the table, sitting next to Merle. The mental gymnastics I keep putting myself through is already exhausting, but what would she think if I allowed myself to lean back into his touch?
Wren grimaces, but the expression is gone in a flash as he stuffs his hands in his pockets and nods to the bar. “Does anyone want a drink? I’ll go make some. Wife?”
“Wife?” She scoffs at him, her hands settling on her hips as she glares.
“Yes? The soul that fits mine, my missing part, the eternal flame in my heart.”
“You’re so stupid.” Phin snorts.
He really needs to stop and all jokes aside, one thought won’t stop bouncing around my head—I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea.I remind myself of Wednesday night. I remind myself the way I felt being leered at by the bouncer. That all happened because Wren wanted to have some power trip. I read endless fan forums of just how much he keeps things casual, so why would I be any different? He’s probably just being nice to try and get me into bed with him, or piss off Willow by shamelessly flirting with me. I don’t have a clue what’s happened between them—what if this is some sick sex game they play? I’m nothingspecial. People like him only amuse people like me with their attention, I’ve been told that before.
Stop trying to get attention to deflect from how boring your life is.
“Robin?”
My head snaps up to meet Phin’s worried blue eyes, his hand reaching out across Merle to me, and instinctively my fingers twitch to reach over to squeeze it. My eyelashes flutter like dusting the bad memories away, as I tightly smile. Putting my hand into the blazer’s inside pocket, I bring out the red character card and wave it at Lil. “Our characters are married. We’re Mr and Mrs Wilson.” I stuff the card back in a pocket as she huffs.
“Well that’s weird. You don’t know each other.” There’s something more behind her words, as she gives me an accusing look. Her finger waves fall over one shoulder and I can see strands of gold fibres, the dying sun making it shimmer. She really has gone full throttle on the gold theme, just like her brother.
I don’t say anything and thankfully there’s motion on the makeshift stage area made of rugs, where Corbin now stands, taking a microphone from its stand.
“Lovely. I’m going to get us some drinks.” Wren gruffly mumbles, stalking off towards the bar without looking at any of us.
“As everyone is here now, I thought I would explain how the game is going to work. After this,” he waves a hand around him, looking at the band with a bemused look. “We’ll sit down for dinner and the game starts. The first murder will be committed tonight and then all weekend we’ll be looking for clues.” He pauses for a long moment as he takes in each guest now watching him, a smirk growing on his lips as a cold shiver runs down my body. When our eyes meet, I somehow have the feeling that his words could solely be for me. “Secrets are going to berevealed and they are very true. Each of you here has a secret hidden in the house or grounds. Each secret is accompanied by a clue of the game, leading you to the next set of clues and secrets. If you find your own secret, fantastic. You can keep it to yourself or share it, I don’t care. If you find someone else’s secret, it has to be revealed to the group.” He takes a long sip of his whisky that sits in his free hand, as the game rules settle in amongst us all. I squirm under his gaze that is still on me, before he breaks it to hand the microphone to the nearest guest musician, saunters off the rugs. Taking Aya's hand, he plants a kiss to it and sits back down, shuffling her back onto his lap.
Phin rakes a hand through his hair and sighs, just as Wren returns and plants a glass with ice into his waiting hand, to which he guzzles it enthusiastically. He hands Merle a beer, puts a can of diet cola down in his spot and leans over to place a tumble of dark liquid in front of me. The ice clinks against the glass, and I can see it’s garnished with orange peel and a cinnamon stick. I bring the cool tumble to my nose and sniff, the citrus and cinnamon hitting me, as well as the faint hint of rum. It smells devine. Taking a sip, I hum my approval, slightly amazed that he’s made me a drink I really like. It tastes heavenly, with the perfect ratio of alcohol to what I assume is cola.
His non-alcoholic choice of drink grabs my attention and a passing notion intrigues me. Whilst we all started on the champagne since arriving, he turned down both myself and Lily offering him the bottle. At no point did anyone offer him a glass, but Phin did offer to make him another coffee at lunch. He didn’t take a welcoming drink either, so whilst I feel slightly buzzed with only having a couple so far, he is perfectly sober.
I think Wren doesn’t drink alcohol.
Placing the glass down, I push past my reservations and give him a soft smile. “Thank you.” Ruffling the hair at the back of his neck, he gives me a small smile and nods, sitting down just asCardinal grabs the chair next to me. He wears a grey three piece suit that emphasises his muscles, the fit perfect for his body, as if he's more used to wearing attire like this than casual wear. His dark hair and short beard are both smartly groomed, but look pretty much the same from when we picked him up from the station.
“I’m sorry, but your brother is a fucking arsehole.” He says, putting his bottle of beer down onto the table.
Without hesitation I move forward, slamming my palm down next to it, making him jolt in his seat. “Right!” I stretch out the word, and to my astonishment Wren bursts into laughter. Eyes wide, he smacks his hand over his mouth, like he can’t believe I pulled him out of whatever distant brooding he was doing.
Holy shit, did he get my joke?
