Vik (Shot Callers 2)

But, as predicted, nobody came to my aid.

The second we arrived at our destination, Roam exited the car, and when the passenger door opened, the coarse material of the sack was roughly removed from my head. The light breeze touched my face, and I blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted. When they finally managed to see clearly, I peered up at the gothic revival style manor.

Momentarily stunned by the beauty of the enormous mansion that appeared to hold mysteries aplenty, I took in the dark brick, the eerie off-white arched windows that looked like they belonged in a church, the four tall towers making the house seem more of a castle, and the octagonal turret style roof that was a thing of splendor. The grounds were large, the grass was a sublime green, and earl gray roses lined the mansion like a border. The huge, circular, three-tiered Barcelona-inspired fountain trickled quietly out front, and when they began to walk, the goon at my back shoved me lightly until I followed. My eyes were drawn to that fountain, and the closer we got, the more I observed. I almost smiled to myself when I saw them.

There were koi in that fountain. There were a lot of them.

It was clear that effort and a whole lot of time were put into this place. I would have been lying if I said I didn’t want to go home, get my shit, and move in immediately.

I’d never seen anything like it, and if it had belonged to anyone but Roam, I would have complimented him on it. A house like this deserved open admiration, and this one positively demanded it.

Roam wasn’t pulling any punches. I told him I didn’t need an escort, that I’d be his willing captive as long as he left Anika alone, and with a hard stare, he allowed me to walk into my gilded prison on my own two feet, at my own pace.

If I thought the outside of his house was beautiful, the moment I saw the inside of it, my breath was stolen from me.

To the left was a parlor made up of dark wood antique furniture. The burgundy printed wallpaper looked like it was from another time. A pair of golden, cushioned settee bench seats were visible as well as floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. I couldn’t make out the titles, but the majority of them looked aged, and I knew there would be first edition classics on them. The large Victorian fireplace sat unlit, but the cast iron surrounding gave me pause.

Within the iron was an image of a nude man cradling his severed head. On the opposite side was that same man, sans clothing, holding his head up the air. The top was lined with sprawled bodies and snakes. I vaguely remember seeing it before somewhere but couldn’t pinpoint where.

A quick glance to the right revealed much of the same. The only difference in this room was the amount of light streaming through. Heavily lit by sunlight, the enormous space held two four-seater sofas in a deep-red topped with plush velvet cushions, a crimson patterned rug that was so large I didn’t even know they made them in that size, dark-brown wingback chairs, antique lamps, and vases holding intricate bunches of rose arrangements. When my gaze lifted, a stunning crystal chandelier glittered in the rays of sunlight.

It was divine.

I felt as though I stepped back into the 1800s, and I never wanted to leave. Until I was led to a separate wing of the house, and Roam shoved me into his bedroom closet. Sure, it wasn’t exactly small, and he’d left the light on for me, but the more time I spent in there alone, it felt like the walls were closing in on me as claustrophobia caused my breathing to heavy.

“Hey!” I tried again, banging on the closed door. “Let me out of here!” My head spun, and I closed my eyes as my knocking turned weak. “I said I would stay!”

But, again, no one came.

Feeling faint, I put my back to the wall and slid myself down the side of the door, then lifted my fist and thumped sluggishly. I did this for a long while, and when the door opened suddenly, I jolted, scrambling backward.

A man stood there dressed in nothing but a pair of black boxers and a pair of tube socks with red stripes, and he glowered at me. “Do you mind?” He blinked rapidly, fighting the pull of sleep. “Some of us were up ’til dawn getting their dicks sucked.”

Oh.

“Sorry” was my confused, weak response, because what else could I say to that?

He ran a hand through his short chocolate-brown hair, and the light from the inside of the closet had his septum piercing sparkling. He sounded so put out. “Well, I’m up now.” Then he looked around the closet with a frown before asking, “What are you doing in here?” His guess was as good as mine. Then, “Is this some weird sex thing?”