“Thousand bucks,” Michael informs me.
A thousand dollars? Zeth is so sure of my reaction to all of this that he put a grand on the line. I know that’s probably pocket change to him since he paid cash for Carrie’s hospital bill, but hell. Surely it would sting to lose it. I suck in a deep breath.
You’ve come this far. You’ve already seen what’s going on behind you. All you have to do is go find him.
“Fine.” I don’t give myself time to think. I spin around and make for the hallway on the other side of the huge room. I’m stepping over bodies before I know it. I do my best to keep my eyes up and front, but I can’t help catching sight of a few things. Things that will be burned into my mind for all time.
When I reach the hallway there are eight doors, four on either side. Most are open but a few are closed. Low moaning slides under the wood; groans of ecstasy and the loud slap of skin on skin. I’m too scared to open the closed doors, so I peek into the open rooms instead, bracing myself each time: a tangle of arms and legs greet me first, four women and two guys so interlaced it’s hard to tell where each one of them begins and the other ends. I back the hell out of there pretty quickly. The second room contains a group of men and women all still in their suits and beautiful dresses, watching a couple screwing on the floor. The observers all sip politely from their champagne flutes while touching each other subtly, a hand slipped up a dress, rubbing at sensitive skin; another manicured hand squeezing a hard on over the top of clothes. A guy wearing the most ornate tiger mask complete with fierce golden stripes turns and sees me. He takes a sip from his drink, pauses in caressing the exposed breast of his companion, and holds out his hand to me.
Oh, hell no!
I backtrack quickly, heading for the last door on the right. For a second I think the door’s closed and I’m about to turn around, but then I realize my mistake. The door is wide open. The lights are just turned off.
You son of a bitch.
I grip hold of my medical bag, clenching my fist around its handle, and take a deep breath. I walk inside.
“You’re sick, you know that?” I say into the darkness. A soft rustling sound greets me, followed by the shift of movement. Yes, the lights are off but the corridor is lit behind me so it’s not like last time. I can see enough to make out the looming figure that slowly paces toward me.
“I know I’m not normal, if that’s what you mean.” A terrible devil’s mask appears before me, two feet away; Zeth is dressed entirely in black, the suit he wears obviously a thing of beauty even in the muted light. His dark eyes shine from within the mask, sharp and hungry. “You’ve surprised me, Sloane. I like being surprised,” he rumbles.
“Well you’ve surprised me, too. Although I can’t say the feeling is mutual.”
He laughs, his voice so deep and powerful I can feel it in the soles of my feet. “You should open up a little. You never know what you might enjoy until you try it.”
“I know exactly what I enjoy, Zeth, and standing around watching fifty naked people grind on each other isn’t it.”
The eyes behind his mask flicker with annoyance when I say his name. He stalks toward me and reaches out, tracing his fingertips across my jawline. He seems pensive, intrigued\ by my stillness—I can’t freaking move—as he touches my skin. “If you don’t like watching, Sloane, you can always join in.”
I slap his hand away from my face, glaring out of my own mask. “Give me back my phone.”
He watches me for a second, smirking, before sliding a hand into the pocket of his pants and pulling out my cell phone. He offers it out to me, and I just know he’s planning on snatching it away from me as soon as I reach out for it. I hold out my open palm instead, waiting for him to place it into my palm. He pouts, game ruined, and does it. I slide it into the medical bag I’m still clutching hold of for dear life. “I came tonight because you needed to know that I’m not scared of you, Zeth. And I want to know what you know about my sister.”
“Really?” he eyes the bag in my hand. “By the hand luggage, it looks like you knew all about our little gathering and brought some toys to play with.”
I remember his black duffel, the one he’d had with him at the hotel, and I harden my jaw. “Like yours, you mean? I’m not the perverted one who carries around a stash of bondage gear.”