And just like with the candy when I was twelve… Knowing I’m not supposed to do it is only making mecraveconsuming it that much more.
I might just be fucked up, but I swear I see Ari’s fingers move in a small wave as I leave the room to the smooth, raspy croons of her having an orgasm.
Emerald eyes and wicked cries… on the lips of an angel.
“Angel…” I grunt, lashes fluttering. “It was you.”
He straightens, wide, doe eyes twinkling that same deep green at me now. Though this time, it’s etched in angst, and some visibly shame.
I take another step. “You’reAri… Aren’t you?”
His lips part, but he bites down on the bottom one.
“You were being held in the prison…” I cock my head. “But The Ivory didn’t kidnap you. You came to this island of your own free will… Didn’t you?”
He continues to gape at me, saying nothing. My jaw strains.
“Listen, my patience for this no talking thing is wearing thin.” I get even closer, crowding him, until he literally backs up into Trevel, startling himself. “Enough with the timid little kitten act, sweetheart. We both know you’re not that.”
“Alright, Velle, ease up,” Fenwick scolds, stepping in to protect his new pal.
But this time, Angel steps tome. “And how would you know that?” His gaze narrows at me as he stands his ground.
The kid is tall, probably only a couple of inches shorter than me, though lacking the bulk of muscle I have on him. Still, heisvisibly defined. It was a bit of a tell, I won’t lie. Again, not that it means anything, but his masculinity is more noticeable up close. That, and he’s out of the dress and makeup he’d been wearing at the party.
Well-put-together for someone who’s been incaptivity… Donning skinny jeans and a black blouse, sheer enough that I can plainly see his chest. Pierced left nipple, and what appears to be a leatherharnessof sorts draped over the slopes of his pectoral muscles. Not to mention a necklace with a pendant that looks… sort of familiar.
The kid catches on to what I’m looking at. His cheeks flush deeper pink as he folds his arms over his chest.
“Because,” I grumble, with much less hostility. The softness in my tone soothes the anxiety on his face. “You wouldn’t be here if you were.”
He lets out a breath, closing his eyes for a moment while he sifts shapely fingers through his hair. “Si, okay… Diablo—Ivory—was holding me as a prisoner. In the prison first, and then in the mansion…” He peeks at Fenwick. “Until Trevel broke me out and brought me to you. But you’re right. I came here myself, long before that. I’m sorry… But Ididdeceive you. And your… staff.” My forehead lines. “The big vatos always marching about. The ones who recruit partygoers. Or… used to. Before the lockdown.”
“Hang on,” Joy finally steps in. Seriously, they’ve all been quiet so long, I forgot there were twelve other people in the room for a second. “Are you saying you’ve been on this island sincebeforethe lockdown??”
Angel shoots me a sheepish look, batting his lashes a bit. Itisadorable, but I think that’s the point. It seems… fabricated. Rehearsed, like a move. Anact.
Part of his cleverly veiled disguise.
Jesus Christ, who is this kid??
“Like I said, I’ve been here a while…” He peeks at Joy.
“How long…?” Rook asks, and Angel’s eyes fling his way.
“Well, at first, I came and went, with the rest of them,” he explains, tone soft. Voice a quietly melodious brogue, like velvet draped over gravel. “On the ferries. I stowed away a few times, and then I just… stayed.”
“Wait, youstowed away?” Kemper huffs, mirroring the surprise we’re all feeling. “Like freaking Fievel??”
I snort.
Angel blinks at him. “I don’t know who that is…”
Kemper frowns. “Fievel Mousekewitz.”
“Who??” Ren cackles, while Luthor and Felix snicker.
“The cartoon mouse!Fievel Goes West??” Kemper argues on, clearly dating himself with this reference. The younger members of our little group are shrugging, no earthly clue what he’s talking about. “He stows away on a ship and… stuff happens…”
