Killian was thrilled with the rules of the "equality room," as Moetia called it. Rule number one: no shoes, no shirt—bottoms only. Rule number two: no yelling inside; trying to win an argument is strictly forbidden, and you must listen to each other closely and without judgment. Rule number three—the most important one—inside, everyone is equal. No gender, status, or wealth takes precedence over another.
I turned my back to the three of them to slip off my dress. My breasts look beautiful, and I have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of—but do you get it, girl? I'm half-naked in the exact same room as M. H. Lamar. It's just too much to process. To make matters worse, I feel her hand on my scars. She traces them without asking a single thing. I have a feeling she already knows my whole story from what she heard on TV—at least the version they're telling.
When I turned around, my heart rate skyrocketed. Lucius and Killian were already lounging on the oversized cushions, spaced out just enough to leave room for the two of us right in the middle. Their bodies couldn't have been designed better. It's impossible not to notice the sheer volume of Killian's muscles. They look so natural on him, like that's how every man was meant to be built. He looks like a beast with a nobleman's face—a very confident beast who decided to ditch his pants too, leaving nothing but a pair of boxer briefs that can barely contain his massive manhood.
But lying there like that, I have to confess to you, my friend, Lucius makes me blush even more. He chose to keep his pants on, and his lean, defined muscles give off the sense that he could spring up and take me in less than a second, like a thoroughbred racehorse no one would hesitate to bet on.
Moetia and I were down to just our bikini bottoms. She is pure sex appeal, her body shaped by deep, seductive curves. Her breasts are larger than mine—which isn't hard to beat—but hers have this gorgeous distinctiveness. Her nipples look so full, like a forbidden treat any man would crave.
I can't help but picture her and Lucius together. Flashes of them making love flood my mind—images of him biting her or bending her to his will. I tried to push the thoughts away, but I realized I liked imagining them more than I felt jealous. I honestly don't know if I'm losing my mind or if those delicious drinks finally kicked in. But I think it's just the pure joy of knowing that M. H. Lamar—Moetia herself—is going to write about me.
She takes my hand and leads me over to the small bar in the room, where she has set up an entire tray filled with her signature homemade Mai Tais.
She whispers in my ear, "You are breathtaking. Can I put this in my novel?"
I saw her point to two tiny moles on my neck, and then her hand slid down, tracing an identical pair right between my breasts.
I smiled like an idiot and asked, "What? What do you mean?"
Moetia ran her finger over them and replied, "It looks like you were bitten by immortal vampires. And your name, Carmilla? It couldn't be more perfect."
Don't judge me, girl. Yes, I know. Ever since she revealed her identity, I've been acting like a total teenager who can't believe she just met her favorite pop star. But what she represents to me runs so much deeper, and I don't know—I did the best I could.
I told her I knew everything about the vampire novel Carmilla, that it was published twenty-five years before Dracula, that I had read it and found it fascinating, but that I highly doubted my parents had named me after it.
I clarified, "I don't think they were exactly lovers of Sheridan Le Fanu's literature."
She laughed and said, "But what if you are the real Carmilla? The vampire girl? Everything lines up. They've tried to destroy you and failed; you have the marks on your neck and chest, and the eyes of a dangerous animal. It would be amazing. Carmilla is one of the earliest works of vampire fiction. What I love most about that novel—so gothic, so brief—is the erotic tension between the female leads. They can't even hide it, even if they try to pass it off as friendship."
Uh-oh. Yeah, yeah, I caught the vibe too. Does she actually want to have sex with me? That's definitely the vibe I'm getting, but maybe it's just another one of her eccentric writer quirks.
We each grabbed our drinks and decided to sip them while sitting among the cushions. There were dozens of them, all fragrant and plush. The Longfields, as if operating on some unspoken cue, took the outer edges, leaving the two of us in the center.
We talked between sips, lying back to gaze at the galaxies projected on the ceiling. We laughed, debated the state of the world, talked about beauty, and then laughed some more until my stomach ached. I even ended up crying tears of pure emotion when Moetia shared a story.
"My mother woke me up on the morning of my fifth birthday and handed me the most precious little puppy," she said. "He was white and fluffy, with a pink bow, and I named him Tim. I played with him all day long, completely forgetting to eat. He was so sweet. When night fell, I collapsed from exhaustion, and the moment I woke up the next morning, the first thing I did was go look for him in his little bed. But little Tim was dead… right there, with his eyes cloudy and his little nose ice-cold. The vet said it was my fault, that a puppy that small couldn't handle so much roughhousing… but I swear, I only wanted him to be happy. I ran out into the yard holding his tiny body in my arms, screaming, 'You're not dead, little Tim! Come back to me, little Tim!' But he never did, and I was completely devastated. A piece of my innocent childhood was buried with him… on that rainy morning."
As a flood of tears started streaming down my face, she burst out, "No, hahaha! It's not true! None of it! I totally just made that up. My parents hated dogs! My house was full of cats."
I whacked her repeatedly with the cushions for making me that sad on purpose. She used the opportunity to tickle me, and by the time we settled back down, I realized I was the only one left in the middle. They were forming a sort of triangle over me. I took a deep breath. My head was closest to Lucius, so I subtly slid closer and looked into his eyes with pure desire. He reacted instantly, pulling me into a kiss. I felt Moetia's hand on my waist, just resting there. Killian grabbed my arm and gently pulled me toward him, kissing my neck as a blissful smile spread across my face. No one spoke. The music had stopped, and our heavy breathing echoed in the quiet room until a melodic '80s track started playing.
Either the drinks were insanely strong or the quantity was just too much, but the truth is, I absolutely loved that night. Sadly, I don't have too many details to give you. Yes, I kissed all three of them, and yes, I think—I'm not entirely sure—but I think my favorite author told me she wanted to sleep with me. I remember smiling and not answering. I'd love to blame it on my fierce heterosexual convictions, but to be completely honest, I probably didn't answer because, well, you know, girl… I'm on that time of the month when my ovaries hurt worse than a missed opportunity with M. H. Lamar.
When I woke up, Killian and I were draped across Moetia's chest, and Lucius was holding mine from behind. I swear nothing more happened than what I already told you—you know I'd tell you if it had. My movements woke everyone up, and they all groaned, holding their heads a bit. We couldn't tell if it was still night out; the galaxy on the ceiling was our only window to the outside, and it was nothing more than an incredible projector.
We got dressed to head out. The sun was high in the sky. We had clearly fallen asleep around three in the morning, and now it was eleven. Armed with juice and fruit, the four of us set off on the speedboat toward the island. Moetia handled the boat with expert skill, though Killian couldn't resist trying to take the wheel and the control console. She let him, showing him how a few things worked, and in less than thirty seconds, he was flying at full speed, grinning ear to ear. I noticed the tension between them—the way he spoke to her. The differences were subtle compared to how he treated other women, so subtle it made me wonder if I was just imagining things. The boat bounced over a wave, making me jump in surprise, and Killian immediately caught me, pulling me onto his lap. I wrapped my arms around him sweetly, leaning against his chest. He, sensing exactly what I was thinking, pointed at his brother and Moetia.
"You see? Killian's great flaw is that he always wants what I have or have had," Lucius said. "I don't need to be that way. He still hasn't realized he can't beat me, because deep down, I know it's all mine."
I smiled up at him and said, "But you love him a lot. It's obvious from a mile away that you adore your younger brother."
He looked down at me. "Yes, and I'm sure he would give his life for me too. The real issue here is you. He knows it. He knows I'll never let you go, that you want him by your side, but that you'll always come looking for me. Because your body belongs to me."
Leaning in close to my ear, he whispered, "Whose body is this forever?"
"Yours," I replied, biting my lower lip so he could see just how much those questions turned me on.
As we approached the dock, we saw from a distance one of the workers who had been reinforcing the glass on the upper floors fall from the height of the roof. Killian abandoned the wheel to Moetia and leaped off the boat to run to him. We rushed right behind him. We sprinted through the small stretch of jungle and found the man severely injured. Under the orders of that gorgeous doctor, desperate to save him, they used a door as an improvised stretcher. Killian turned to us.
"I'm taking him to the hospital. I'll take your boat, Moetia. He'll be fine, but I need to monitor his condition on the way."
She nodded instantly. "Okay, I'm coming with you. I know the hospital well—my company built it, so I know exactly where we need to dock when we arrive. I'll have an ambulance waiting for us. You stay with him the whole time, I'll drive."
In less than ten minutes they were gone. The injured man was conscious and thanking Killian, saying, "I got lucky, Doc, that you got here so fast."
Lucius handed his brother the other satellite phone so he could keep us updated, and the rest of the workers piled into another boat and left.
By mid-afternoon, Killian called to report that they had to operate on the man, but he was out of danger. The major problem was that a nurse had recognized him, and within an hour, the entire place was swarming with local journalists, hailing him as a hero all over again.
"The international press must be on their way," Killian said over the line. "Moetia knows a secret exit through the basements. In the early morning, when everyone gets tired of waiting at the doors for me to come out, she'll have her boat ready nearby so I can escape unseen. That way I can get back to the island without being followed."
Lucius congratulated his brother on saving the worker's life and hung up. When he turned around, I could see the worry etched on his face regarding the media siege. I comforted him, certain that Killian would manage to return without compromising our location. I kissed his lips, and we made pasta—once again, his magic hands made it taste incredible. We kept kissing on the long sofas… but he seemed distant.
I asked him, "Are you worried about him escaping, or because he's with Moetia?"
He looked at me with burning passion and said, "No. I'm worried about what I'm going to do to you tonight, girl. After I'm done playing with you, you won't be able to get me out of your head."
Blushing at his commanding tone, I asked, "Because of what you'll do to me in bed?"
Lucius unbuckled his belt without breaking eye contact. He tapped it gently against my breasts and said, "No, girl. We won't make it to the bed. Your body is mine, and I want it now."