Twilight's Possession - Burning Hunger Part 10

Could it be?

"I think I'll go back and take one last look." Marek rushed back to the book and, starting at the last page instead of the first, looked up the first letter. The second. The third, fourth and fifth.

T. O. T. H. E.

Tothe? To the? Words! They'd made words. Relief rushed through his body in soothing waves, sweeping his sagging spirits up from the murky depths they'd sunk to.

He'd done it! He'd found the answer. Maybe his brother wouldn't suffer the same end as their father.

If only the Triad had been destroyed as it was supposed to have been. He'd learned only days before Kaden was struck ill that the Triad had not only survived the last attempt to destroy it but had been tracked down by the Rebellion and stolen.

"I'll be just a few minutes more," he said over his shoulder.

The Keeper nodded, his lined face brightening. "Time is nothing to me. It has far greater value to you, Son of the Twilight."

Brea checked the cell phone for the hundredth time in the last hour. The phone had rung only once and when she'd tried to call the number back, her call was switched immediately to voice mail. Either Marek was on his phone or it was turned off.

Left to fret and worry and suffer, she'd gone back to snooping. She'd discovered the house was Dayne's and that Marek was only a guest, not a resident as she'd first a.s.sumed. She'd found only one photograph in the entire house, the picture of a beautiful woman, enclosed in a beautiful carved frame and sitting in the place of honor in Dayne's bedroom-on top of his dresser.

Every girl knew that spot was reserved for only one woman-the one he loved, girlfriend, wife, ex-whatever.

Niggling jealousy skittered through her nerves, warming her cheeks.

Who cared if Dayne loved another woman?

Who cared if she was fricking perfect, with the cutest nose and the most amazing eyes...and lips that had to have seen more than their share of collagen injections.

It was so easy to hate a woman who looked that good. Probably not a hint of cellulite on her b.u.t.t either. Some women were so lucky.

G.o.d, to think he'd seen that woman naked, and then her. He most likely had compared their bodies, that woman's smooth perfection to her own lumpy, b.u.mpy imperfection. Was enough to make a girl sick. Or give her a whopping headache.

She went to the bathroom in search of pain relief.

Outside of a couple toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste, the medicine cabinet was as empty as the refrigerator. No shaving cream or razors. No hair products or clippers or tweezers or combs. No cold medicines or Q-tips.

And no pain relief.

What was with these guys?

Her head was going to explode. She got a headache after having s.e.x with these guys? Weird. Her pounding cranium squeezed between her palms, she dragged her stressed and weary body down the hall to her room. But just as she turned the corner, she heard the rattle of the front door's lock, followed by the wonderful sound of two Chippendale's voices.

Her head be d.a.m.ned, she had to hear what happened!

Chapter Eight.

Hours later, spent scouring the web for sites on ciphers and codes, then huddled over scrambled strings of numbers and letters, they had the code decoded and the riddle solved. Well, Marek said he thought he might have the riddle solved. Brea, who still suffered from a wicked migraine despite the Excedrin Dayne had so sweetly volunteered to buy, had no idea what the riddle meant. Where the heck did the sun always s.h.i.+ne?

It was the wee hours by the time they'd wrapped up the night's work. The wannabe private investigator in her screamed to head out immediately to find the next clue but her body refused to budge. She was beyond exhausted. Her eyes felt like they'd been sandblasted-dry and itchy. Her eyelids refused to lift fully between loooong blinks. She could swear lead weights were tied to her arms. And her back was tight and stiff.

Yet when she finally allowed herself to go to bed, her mind refused to shut down. Thoughts of the past couple of days kept the gears whirring along at top speed. The fact that she was sandwiched between two stunning, naked men made it that much more difficult for her to apply the brakes.

Two men who had kept their word. Thanks to them, she was one enormous step closer to finding the Triad.

With a sigh, she flopped onto her back.

Dayne-either trying to make nice since that little tying-up fiasco or genuinely a sensitive man-rolled onto his side and smiled at her. He stroked her arm, light touches, soothing. Sweet. "What's wrong?" He lifted her hand and flattened it between his. Then, twining their fingers, lifted it to place a kiss on each fingertip.

His eyes never left hers.

"Can't fall asleep."

"Really?"

She knew what was happening. It was in the way he pursed his lips and the way his eyes glittered.

She was all for it. f.u.c.k her into a coma. She wouldn't complain. In fact, she might thank him in the morning after enjoying several hours of sound sleep.

"I can think of a way to help you fall asleep," Dayne offered, smoothing a hand up her arm.

"Sleeping pills?" she asked, letting her eyelids shutter out the distraction of sight so she could focus on the simple pleasure found in his slow, sensual touches.

"Something better," he whispered in her ear. His breath tickled the sensitive skin under her earlobe, making her shudder and sigh.

"Uh..." It was so hard to be cute and clever when her brain was melting like ice cream in a blast furnace.

She whimpered as a second set of hands got into the action. The guys undressed her then eased her onto her stomach. One performed magic on her neck and shoulders, rubbing out the kinks with the skill of a professional ma.s.seur while the other rubbed the soles of her feet.

It didn't take long before she was feeling soft and girly and oh-so hot. She shuddered at the memory of both of them f.u.c.king her, one powerful body beneath her, the other over top. Never in a million years had she ever imagined herself wanting to be with two men, now she was wondering if it would be a downer going back to having only one lover.

There were definite benefits to an extra set of hands...and a second mouth...and other extra parts.

Marek eased her knees apart and teased her slit with fingers and tongue while Dayne tormented her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Together, the sensations, the pleasure, the heat, the tension coiling in her belly, nearly drove her to madness. She was too worn out to be patient. She just wanted release and she wanted it now.

"f.u.c.k me," she demanded. "f.u.c.k me now."

Marek pushed her legs back, spreading them wide, and claimed her with one stroke. Strong hands squeezed, pushed, dominated. Hips pistoned his thick c.o.c.k in and out.

A moan of pure bliss broke through her pursed lips.

Now positioned somewhere at the foot of the bed-watching?-Dayne echoed her, with a deep, rumbling groan.

Marek's intimate strokes settled into a perfectly delicious pace, neither too slow nor too fast. She blinked open her eyes to watch his beautiful body work, knowing what a glorious sight those flexing muscles would make.

Then she realized what she was seeing and gasped, shocked into a powerful o.r.g.a.s.m. For an instant, the image of Dayne's hands cupping Marek's shoulders as he drove into him from behind seemed burned into her mind like a photograph on film. It seemed to feed the heat pulsing through her body in wild waves. She opened her eyes again. She had to see. She had to watch. She'd never seen anything like it. Marek's c.o.c.k was still gliding in and out of her, slowly, lubricated by the juices scenting the air musky sweet. Behind him, Dayne knelt on one knee, the other knee bent so his thigh pressed against the side of Marek's hip. From her vantage, she couldn't see Dayne's c.o.c.k as it f.u.c.ked Marek's a.s.s, but she could hear the slap, slap of skin striking skin.

And she could plainly see the rapture on both their faces. That was one vision she never wanted to forget. And luckily for her-after all, how many girls saw such things?-the sight of two male faces lost in erotic bliss was the last thing she saw that night before she finally fell into a deep slumber.

It was hard to be mad at her Chippendales the next morning, given the activities of the night before, but she was pretty close to furious. Furious and tingly. Furious and giddy.

"I am so tired of you two telling me how I can't do anything." She stood in the middle of the bedroom, totally naked-she was past the point of caring about her cottage-cheese thighs-hands on hips, eyes narrowed to little slits and a menacing glare focused on Marek's ear. It was the only part of his anatomy she could look at without softening.

She was so d.a.m.n weak!

They were still lying in bed. Marek's leg was thrown over Dayne's hip. The rumpled sheet barely covered Marek's adorable a.s.s then wound in a twisted bunch between their bodies and up over Dayne's torso.

Eye. Candy. Yum.

"Would you two wake up?" she shouted, annoyed by their tired act. She was up and ready to go-well, not exactly ready to go-but she was vertical. It was almost eleven. Time was a-wastin'. They had clues to find. And unlike her nocturnal Chippendales, she worked better in daylight.

When they continued to ignore her, she stomped into the bathroom. She'd give them another twenty minutes. Then they were getting up or she was going to physically remove them from the bed.

How the h.e.l.l would she do that?

She cranked on the shower. A bath in cold water. That would do the trick.

As long as she didn't mind sleeping in a wet bed tonight. If she was still there tonight.

What if she found the Triad today? Then what? She'd be able to leave, return to her safe and peaceful former life.

She'd have to take the Triad back to its owner. And then she'd go to her apartment. She had plants to water. Dust bunnies to slay.

Wow. Her life seemed so...lame.

Suddenly less enthusiastic about the day's possibilities, she showered then toweled dry. The temptation to climb back into that warm and cozy spot between her Chippendales was almost too much for her. But she resisted. She went to the closet and found herself yet another pair of huge sweatpants that almost fell off. She inhaled Marek's scent as she pulled on a Detroit Lions t-s.h.i.+rt.

Would he miss this old s.h.i.+rt? Wasn't like the Lions were good or anything.

She plopped onto the bed to pull on some socks, taking a second to rub away the ache in her neck and the knot in her left calf. Must be lack of sleep. She'd had the weirdest aches and pains the last few days.

"Guys. I'm hungry. I need to eat." Understatement. She was starved.

Two low growling rumbles came from the bed. One of them said something like, "Should have bought more last night..." and the other came back with, "It was your turn. I was trying to solve that d.a.m.n clue."

"I checked the kitchen. There's not so much as a Pop-Tart in this joint. What do you two eat?" Come to think of it, she had yet to see either of them consume anything, not even a gla.s.s of water or a protein bar. "Is someone going to go buy me an Egg Mcm.u.f.fin or something? Dayne?"

His head poked up from under the sheet and he looked at her with tired, blood-shot eyes. "Can't, babe. Sorry. But I'll call in an order frooooooom..." A yawn dragged out the last part of the word before he continued, "The restaurant down the street. They deliver." And then his head fell back down, dead weight.

Good grief. If the guy was that worn out, then she could go get her own food. She'd lived alone for years. She could take care of herself.

She searched both their pants pockets for car keys and money. Feeling optimistic, she took the clue with her. Then, not exactly thrilled with the prospect of being seen in public dressed as she was, she scurried around, hunting down her own clothing and shoes. She found everything but her s.h.i.+rt in Dayne's bedroom closet.

Really. Had it been necessary to hide the rest of her stuff all this time? She wasn't so vain that some poorly fitting sweats would've stopped her from escaping if she'd had the chance. Grumbling about kidnappers who underestimated their captives, she gave up the sweats, opting for her jeans, pulled on her shoes and headed out to the garage.

It felt so good to be out among the real world again. She drove the enormous white van to Big Boy's for some breakfast. While she scarfed down an absolutely scrumptious omelet, she studied the clue, every word.

What did it mean?

To the place go thee where the sun never sets, Past worlds that guard a rival's darkest secrets.

A twist to the left brings thine treasure in sight.

But a wrong turn and darkness defeats Twilight.

There was obviously a theme of astronomy-the sun, worlds or planets. She could think of at least two places where there might be some kind of model of the solar system, both of them science museums that were open to the public. But why would anyone risk hiding something that valuable where it might be found by anyone-a fifth-grader on a school field trip, a tourist from Timbuktu, a group of suburban moms dragging hyperactive toddlers through the museum to gain a few moments of peace.

But if it wasn't a public place, something the average girl would know about, how could the person who'd supplied the clue think she'd solve it? She couldn't possibly know if somebody had a solar system painted on a bedroom wall in some subdivision off Canton Center Road. It was feasible. But impossible for her to know about. She had to a.s.sume the clue's writer knew this.

After paying her check, she drove to the closest science museum, about twenty minutes away. She parked down the street in the public parking structure, tromped the block and a half to the museum, forked over the eight-dollar entry fee and wound through rooms full of themed science exhibits. Weather. Machines. Chemistry. The s.p.a.ce exhibit was on the third floor, housed in a room with glow-in-the-dark stars painted on black walls. A huge model of the solar system hung about ten feet over her head, suspended several feet below the ceiling by cables.

Okay. So if this was the place, where was she supposed to look? A twist to the left? From what point?

She did a three-sixty, looking for a hint, a symbol, a sign. The walls were full of hands-on exhibits, meant to be manipulated by children with sticky fingers. No one in their right mind would hide a valuable treasure in one of those.

Besides the door through which she'd entered, there was only one other door. Depending upon which direction she was facing when she stood under the planets, the door could be on her left.

It was worth a try.

Locked.

Why did that not surprise her?

She had no tools. No credit cards, not that the old card-in-the-crack trick worked for her anyway. She hadn't been able to get herself in her own front door when she'd accidentally locked herself out last winter. She'd have to use her brain.

She had an idea.

She went back down to the information desk and informed the elderly woman posted there she'd accidentally lost her wedding ring under the door.

The woman was all too happy to call the manager to open the door.

Success!

Brea followed the manager back up to the solar system room, filling every moment they were together with profuse apologies and stories of the last time she'd lost her non-existent wedding ring.

Politely listening, he nodded, pushed the key into the door's lock and opened the door.

It led to the tiniest closet that had ever existed. Tiny and most definitely empty.