UNTOUCHED (Midwest Alphas) (Book 1) (29 page)

“Yeah, it’s not too bad,” Mandy agrees. “I can’t believe it’s almost over though. It feels like we just got here.”

“We
did
just get here,” I point out. “It’s only been like three days.”

“That’s all?” she asks.

“It’s scary what can change in so little time,” Kai adds with his eyes on me, obviously hinting at something more.

Oh, what could you possibly mean, dearest stepbrother?

“Yeah,” I say instead. I instinctively lick my lips. He notices.

“No kidding,” Shawn says. He stares across the table at Mandy. “It may sound corny, I feel like my dreams are coming true.”

Mandy smirks at him and shakes her head. “You’re not going to propose, are you?”

“Why?” he asks. “I’m already getting free milk.”

Kai chuckles and looks at his empty plate. “Stay classy, Shawn,” he jokes.

“Don’t sit there and act innocent, Kai,” Shawn says. He quickly points around the entire table. “In fact, not a single one of us should be casting stones.”

“No one’s casting stones,” Kai says as he raises his glass. “I’m happy for you — and your dreams.”

Mandy grips her own glass and lifts it between us all. “To chasing dreams,” she toasts.

My lips curl. Contrary to Kai’s beliefs, I would much rather live a life of dreams than fit into a little box. “To chasing dreams,” I say as I raise my glass.

Kai meets my eyes across the table. I can see his thoughts working quickly behind the steady pounding of the vein on his forehead. He sees me as a much different person now, a far cry from the girl he thought he pursued to Europe. He used to look at me with wide eyes, almost as if I were some mythical creature lost in the depths of his imagination. Now, he looks at me with knowing eyes, full of honesty and lust. I’m not sure which one I prefer more.

“To chasing dreams,” he repeats with a whisper. The four of us clink our glasses together and take a drink.

His words vibrate down my spine, igniting all of my desires. I take another quick sip, hoping it will cool me off, but it does very little. I lick my trembling lips and watch as his eyes linger on them again. He’s thinking about that kiss, just like I am. He wants it again and so do I. I flashback to his body, water pouring off of him by the pool back home. His tight, white shorts fusing to his skin, revealing the perfect outline of his thick—

“I
fucking
love Europe!” Shawn exclaims again as he digs into another bread stick.

I glance down at my phone to check the time. It’s half past eleven, but I am not tired. I’m far from it. Going back to the hotel and spending the night in the same room with Kai would be a huge mistake. That itch, it’s dug too far into me now. I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself with him. My skin burns. My sex throbs. There’s only one thing on my mind. One thing that will rid me of my desires for him tonight…

And I know exactly where to get it.

Chapter 12

Kai

I knock on the door with my duffel bag slung over my shoulder. Mandy opens it and she raises her eyebrow. “Shawn has officially kicked me out,” I tell her. “He’s summoned you for the night.”

She chuckles and steps away from the door. “Come on in,” she says.

Her own suitcase is stacked near the door, prepared for this exact exchange. Piper’s suitcase sits open on her bed with most of her clothing spilled out of it. “Where’s Piper?” I ask.

Mandy’s eyes shift. “She went out,” she shrugs.

“Went out?” I ask. “Where?”

“I don’t know,” she mutters. “She said she needed to take a walk or something. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

I sigh and glance around the empty room. “She didn’t say where she was going?”

Mandy bends over and grabs her suitcase. “Nope,” she says. “She’ll be fine, Kai. No need to play protective brother on this one.”

“Yeah, tell that to the giant bruise on her neck…”

“Kai…” She steps closer to me. “She’s a big girl.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I step away and take a deep, angry breath.

“I’m sure she’ll be back soon.” She opens the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I toss my duffel down on the empty bed and glare around the room. It’s pretty obvious why she isn’t here. Piper’s chosen to avoid me rather than deal with what happened on the train. Honestly, I don’t blame her, but I definitely don’t want to spend yet another night waiting up for her, peaking out the windows, hoping she’ll come back to me unscathed. And Italian television dramas can’t be any easier to understand than German ones.

I wander over to Piper’s bed and bend down to grab her shirt off the pillow. It’s the same shirt she wore on the train all day today. I immediately smell her on the air, that same feminine scent that filled my nose in that small train bathroom. I bring it to my nose and inhale a bit more before tossing it back on the pillow. I can’t help it. I already miss her like a fucking puppy waiting on its master to return home from work.

Something catches my eye on the bed, buried beneath her jeans. I reach out and push them aside to find Piper’s itinerary stashed beneath it. She has every bit of this trip mapped out, planned right down to the hour. This thing never leaves her side. If she was just going for a walk, she surely would have taken it with her to make note of all the sights she happened upon.

I pick up the itinerary. It’s much thicker and heavier than the abridged version she gave her father. I do a quick scan of the room to make super sure that I’m alone before opening it. It has everything my bootleg copy has, but so much more. I was right about the map I saw on the train from Berlin. There’s far more locations marked on it than there should be, including London, Dublin, and Madrid, just to name a few.

What the hell are you planning, Piper?

I skip ahead to the section on Rome. There’s a few highlighted sections of restaurants, shopping centers, museums, and a bit about the Colosseum. I turn another page, hoping to find some clue as to where she would go tonight.

And there it is…

It’s a printed email from her (username: PopNLynch…
really
, Pipes?) to some guy name
Dante
, asking for information about a place named
Fire and Ice
here in Rome.

An underground club.

Secret password “seventh circle” for entry.

Wear something revealing and easy to remove.

I remember Piper’s outfit from dinner. That sleek, black halter top and tight skirt. It drives me wild just thinking about it and it fits Dante’s instructions perfectly.

I can’t wait to stop by while I’m in Rome. -P

We’re only spending one night in Rome before catching an afternoon train to Paris tomorrow. If Piper is as excited to see this place as she makes it sound in her email, then she could be there right now.

Nausea plagues my guts. Piper’s avoiding me. This much is obvious. That doesn’t bother me too much. Hell, I fucking deserve it. But her doing it like this? By going to some secret club in
easy to remove clothing—

Nope.

I tear the page out of the itinerary, fold it up, and shove it into my back pocket.

***

The
Fire and Ice
has definitely earned its claim of being an underground club. Even with my phone giving me accurate GPS navigation of the streets of Rome, it’s taken me far too long to locate it. Who knows what Piper is doing right now. She’s certainly had plenty of time to get into all sorts of trouble. Each minute that goes by gets me a little bit angrier at her.

I finally find the bright red door described in the email. It’s tucked away in a dark alleyway and, ironically enough, sits not too far away from St. Peter’s Basilica. Makes me wonder what the Vatican would do if they stumbled upon it — if they haven’t already.

I knock on the door and wait with my eyes on the rectangular peep hole. Finally, it slides open and I see a beautiful girl looking back at me. Red hair. Brown eyes.

“Password,
per favore
,” she spits out with a scratchy voice, one that doesn’t match her flowery appearance in the slightest.

I flinch and open my mouth to speak. “Uhh, shit—” I realize that this password is probably supposed to be said in Italian. I shake my head. “…
seventh circle
,” I say, chucking it out anyway.

“Ohhh…” she grins. “Americano?”

“
Si
, or whatever,” I say, pulling the word from my limited high school Spanish vocabulary. These romance languages all share the basics, right?

She slams the peephole closed and I listen as the door unlocks loudly. A bright blue light hits me as it opens and the woman stands out of the way to allow me inside.

“I’m looking for a girl,” I tell her as she closes the door behind us. Slow, ambient music fills my ears. The thumping bass pounds away below my feet. A thick brute of a fellow stands in the corner, guarding a black door. It’s pretty obvious what his job is.

She glides ahead of me in a little red dress with long, thick high-heel shoes. I follow her through the entryway, where she pauses behind a black counter. She looks at me through dark eyelashes and smiles. “Then you’ve come to the right place,
signore.
” Her voice is thick with accent, but luckily, she seems to have a decent handle on English. I imagine it comes in handy at a classy customer service job like this one. She reaches below the counter.

“No — a specific one,” I say. “She’s short, pale skin, black hair, blue eyes.”

“This is Italy,
signore
,” she smirks. “We have a lot of that here.”

I heave a sigh. “Never mind.”

“Seventy euro,
per favore
.”

“Seventy euro?!”
I growl and reach into my back pocket for my wallet. The things I do for that little alabaster bastard. “What the hell is this place anyway?”

The woman grins at me and sets two masks down on the counter in front of me. They’re simple, masquerade style eye masks with thick, black elastics around the back to hold them in place on your head. One is blue. The other is red. Each has intricate patterns sewn onto them, symbolizing various elemental themes.
Fire and Ice
, I gather.

“The blue is for watching,” she explains. “The red is for everything else.”

“Watching?” I ask. “Watching what?” The brute behind me laughs, low and quick.

“You must wear one at all times,
signore
,” she continues. She presses her thick, red lips together. “You may alternate as much as you like. I would recommend starting with blue and switching to red once you feel more…
comfortable
.” She smirks at me with amusement.

I pull out my credit card and slide it across the counter to her. She takes it with long, perfectly manicured nails and gives it a quick swipe at the register. I swear, if I get my identity stolen, I’m coming back here first.

She passes the card back to me. “Have a good time,” she coos before pursing her lips and pecking the air between us.

I take my card back and make sure it’s firmly inside my wallet before sliding it into my pocket. “Thanks,” I say. I grab the masks and turn around to face the brute between myself and the black door. I stare up at him and he reaches up and taps one finger against his temple. “Oh, right…” I take the blue mask and slip it over my head. “There. How do I look? Nice?”

He says nothing, but his lips curl upward as he grabs the door handle and pulls it open.

I step around him and pass through a metal detector on my way down the stairs to the main floor.

What the fuck…

The air is thick and the lights are dim, just bright enough to make out what’s going on. Music pulses even louder in my ears as I step deeper into it all. Men. Women. I stare at them through the blue holes of my mask, trying to make sense of it all. This can’t be what it looks like…

Yep. It is.

Many of them wander about the black room with their blue masks, just like I am, watching with eager eyes. The others, the ones in red masks, they’re scattered about, too. Their moans of pleasure fill my ears as I pass by. I look at their naked bodies and tremble. A blonde-haired woman lies spread-eagle on a table. A light shines down on her, the bodies of men casting shadows all over her body as they do what they please to her willing flesh. I watch as a man pushes through the crowd of spectators and slides his blue mask off and his red mask on. He drops to his knees in front of her…

Blue is for watching. Red is for everything else.