Player stayed right in step with him, his eyes on the ground. The cement he’d helped pour moved, narrowing, rippling under their feet. Once he took his gaze from the sidewalk but then he saw the monstrous pocket watch and heard the ticking in time to the lobsters’ clacking and he preferred the strange dipping and wheeling pathway. He just kept pace with Maestro, trusting his brother, not the images in his head.
The common room was overflowing with partiers. Player tried not to look at them as he and Maestro waded through the half-drunk dancers as they gyrated around one another and the bodies pressed close. He did his best not to inhale as they hurried across the room toward the door that led to the back rooms. He couldn’t take in the scent of sex. Several girls were going down on men and two were already on their hands and knees calling out for more. He jerked his gaze from the sight, counting over and over in his head. Drinks were on tables, filled to the brim and they rose in the air and tipped liquid onto the floor and the backs of men and women as Player and Maestro rushed toward the back.
“Shit brother,” Maestro hissed, as laughter erupted all around them. “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland strikes again.”
Player’s stomach lurched. He had deliberately cultivated his fellow club members to see the humor in the crazy things that happened when his “migraines” occurred after he went too far using his psychic talent. He couldn’t fault them when they laughed or made light of it. They had no idea how dangerous he was or how much he truly despised the mere mention of that story and every damn memory it dredged up. None of it good.
As they made their way through those dancing or fucking, he knew it was impossible to tell if the drinks were knocked off as dancers pressed too close to the tables al
lowing the newcomers to wind their way through. Maestro pulled open the door to the back rooms.
The moment Maestro opened the door, Player could hear women moaning. A few of his brothers were using the rooms and doors had been left open, something not all that uncommon during a party. The smell of sex was heavy in the confined space of the hall. As they passed an open door, a woman’s voice called out, begging for the queen’s maids to join them for sex. Her partner answered her, “What the hell are you going on about? What queen? What maids?”
Maestro kicked the door closed as they hurried past. “We never should have shown you that old Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland porn, Player,” he said, laughter in his voice. “You gotta stop thinking about that movie.”
Player could have told him it had nothing whatsoever to do with thinking and everything to do with smells, association, and with his fucked-up fragmented brain playing tricks. Every open door they passed, Maestro slammed closed with his boot until they were all but sprinting down the rippling floor to the bathroom at the very end of the hallway.
This particular bathroom was considered off-limits during parties to outsiders, and the brothers kept to the rule. Lana and Alena, their sisters, both fully patched members of Torpedo Ink, used that room exclusively, although now they shared it with some of the other members’ wives. Maestro yanked open the door and practically shoved Player inside.
“I’ll be right back with a bottle of water and Tylenol,” Maestro promised and closed the door, leaving Player alone.
The scent of fresh lavender immediately washed the smell of sex away, giving Player a bit of a reprieve. He let himself take a deep breath, inhaling the lavender, taking the scent into his lungs, hoping to chase some of his terrible tension away. Perched on the sink and continuously breathing deeply, he texted Master to tell him he made it home safely while he waited for Maestro to return.
Maestro was fast, handing him the water and pills. He also brought him a clean pair of jeans and shirt. “You need me to wait and get you back to your room?”
“Naw, I’m good now. I can make it, no problem. I’ll lock up for the night and just sleep it off. You know I’m good once I’m down,” Player assured, pouring confidence into his voice. He detested that he’d taken Maestro from the party. Worse, it was dangerous for Maestro to spend too much time with him.
“If you’re certain.” Maestro dangled the keys to the truck from his fingers.
At once, Player’s gaze caught and held there, unable to stop, no matter how much he willed his mind to pull away. The keys morphed into the dreaded gold pocket watch, the case swiveling back and forth, nearly mesmerizing Player. The timepiece began to grow in front of his eyes again. He counted faster, forcing himself to turn his entire body away.
Player tossed back the Tylenol and chased it with water. “Absolutely. The shower will help and then I’m sleeping as long as possible.” By some miracle he kept from yelling at Maestro to get the fuck out. He kept his voice even and calm.
He didn’t look at Maestro, still counting in his head, hoping his brother would take the hint and get out of there fast. He didn’t trust himself. No one was safe. No one, not even those he loved. Not when he was this bad. He was fortunate in that he had deceived his brothers for so long into thinking he got vicious migraines and nothing was really wrong with him. No one really ever questioned him and Maestro wanted to get back to the party.
The moment the door was closed, Player stripped and stepped under the hot water to wash off the road and to try to let the clean scent the women kept in the bathroom clear his fragmented mind. His head was pounding, the roaring so terrible he could barely stand it. Truthfully, he’d only experienced pain this bad once before. That was the time he’d lost total control and his entire world had come apart when he realized what could happen. He was scared for everyone there in the clubhouse and if necessary, he was going to bunk right there on the bathroom floor.
He took his time letting the hot water pour over him until he began to hallucinate that the shower floor was beginning to fill up like a pool. He had to blink rapidly, call the numbers aloud to himself as he dried off and dressed. There was no staying in the bathroom. He had to get to his private room, put in earplugs, turn off the lights and go to sleep. The more he slept, the faster his brain healed.
He took several deep breaths of the lavender, deliberately dragging the scent into his lungs, flung the door open and planted his gaze on the door to his room. It seemed a very long distance away. He sprinted. He was normally fast. Very fast. He had long legs and he could cover the distance with ease, but the floor undulated like a massive snake, threatening to throw him off balance.
Music played in his head. Will you, won’t you. Will you? Won’t you? He tried to shut it off. Lobsters clacked their claws while snails shook heads and tortoises asked them to dance. He leapt over the wood rising like waves, the creatures looking at him with wide, knowing eyes. He kept his desperate gaze glued to his door. It appeared to be moving as well, growing smaller and smaller as if he had been dropped into an alternate world. He shook his head hard, drops of sweat hitting the floor. He began to count aloud, uncaring if anyone in any of the rooms heard him. It was the only way he wasn’t going to suck them into his reality.
Doggedly, sweat dripping off him, ignoring the seriously pitching floor and the diminishing door, he kept running. He knew this universe, the one that sucked him in and became a nightmare version of reality. Everything in it was too dangerous for words. His fractured mind changed the world around him into a dark, sinister place where torture, murder and vicious cruelty lurked around every corner.
He refused to acknowledge the whispers growing loud enough to interfere with his counting. He lost track for a moment but immediately started over again. Then, thankfully, his hand was on the doorknob and he shoved the heavy oak door to his room open, all but fell inside, slammed the door closed and leaned against it, breathing hard.
The music changed from lobsters clacking their pinchers together and singing about turtles joining them in a dance to a distinctly Middle Eastern beat. The tinkle of little bells caught at his mind, pulling him out of his head. Lighting in his room was dim. Candles were scattered around flickering gently. A mixture of essential oils gave off the fragrance of pink plumeria, Egyptian musk and ginger, bathing his senses in the exotic flavors. Instantly his mind filled in all the details of a stormy night, so far from the nightmare images of his childhood and the night they’d accidentally consumed mushrooms.
Player flattened his palms against the door and stared in shock at the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen in his life dancing just a few feet away, staring back at him with enormous, startling chocolate eyes, framed with dark lashes. Her hair was dark and extremely thick, still moving with her body to the music, falling past her shoulders in luscious waves. This definitely wasn’t part of the familiar nightmare world his fucked-up brain conjured when it was fractured and he needed to be alone and just let it heal.
Soft washed-out blue jeans rode low on generous hips and a rose-colored tee was knotted under equally generous breasts. Her abdominal muscles had been undulating to the music as her hips performed intricate movements and her curvy buttocks and very high rounded tits shook to the music. Coins and bells hung from a wide golden belt wrapped around her hips and bells swung from an ankle bracelet with every movement she made. She came to an abrupt halt when his shocked gaze hit hers.
“What are you doing in here?” Player managed to find his voice. It came out rougher and far gravellier than he intended, maybe even a snarl. He had a lower register, one that tended to intimidate easily.
He was a big man with wide shoulders, a thick chest, muscular arms and narrow hips. His hair was brown with streaks of blond. It fell a few inches beyond his shoulders, a thick wild mass that made the vivid blue of his eyes only more piercing and direct. He kept a short, trimmed dark beard and moustache that also adde
d to the effect his eyes had on others. He was very aware she might find him extremely intimidating, especially alone in the room with him, but he couldn’t move away from the door no matter how much he told himself to step away.