Manipulative Attraction

41. ⚛️ Keep Your Enemies Closer

The next day dawned bright with pink-tinged altostratus clouds. The wispy masses spread in the sky like large fingers from a giant's hand.

Jeannie retrieved the eggs from the refrigerator. As she shuffled to the countertop, the carton creaked in her hand and her purple robe whipped about her knees.

It was the morning after the funeral and Jeannie busied herself in the kitchen by making breakfast for those in the house. She counted them out according to the number of eggs they would eat.

Demetri liked two. Carmen the same. Svetlana turned her mouth down at four or less, and whatever Anatoly didn't want, Jeannie and Fifi would eat. Shon, however, she wasn't sure how many he liked.

Shon. Who would have thought he'd spend the night...in Carmen's room?

For most of the evening, Jeannie had heard muffled giggles and low moans coming from the guest bedroom. It had put her in mind of Thorne.

Her heart clenched at her need to see him, to talk to him, but with Demetri in the house, Jeannie hadn't dared to make contact.

If she could just hang on a few more days, and in that time, if all went well, she'd see Thorne soon.

Jeannie put the rashers of bacon in the iron skillet. The scent was sure to wake up the household even if the percolating coffee hadn't.

When the bacon sizzled, Jeannie cracked the eggs, one by one into a bowl. She put a dollop of canned milk into the mixture and whisked it. She started slowly. It was best to allow the egg white and yellows a chance to come together. Once that happened, she vigorously whipped them into a froth.

Just like Thorne's lovemaking.

Jeannie and Thorne had always started out slow, getting used to each other's rhythm to finish breathless at the end. Their sweat intermingled just like their tongues as they finished with one deep kiss.

Perhaps it was her daydreaming of Thorne, his tattoo of Lady Justice contracting and spreading on his chest as they made love or maybe it was the whisking that covered the near-silent footsteps of the large man. Either way, Jeannie didn't hear Anatoly approach her from behind until he pricked her skin with a needle full of sleeping agent.

"Hmm. That coffee smells good," Shon said, peering down at Carmen. She blinked sleepily, smiling up at him.

Despite coming to Jeannie's house for a funeral, it had been a great night. Shon had expected to go home right after he gave his condolences, but Carmen insisted he stay. In order to seal the deal, she gave him a deep kiss full of promise.

The later it got, the more kisses she gave—in nearly every room of the house. After Jeannie went to bed, they engaged in one long make-out session in the kitchen.

Carmen, in her husky voice, had rubbed him below the belt, proposing he stay the night—with her.

Shon had quickly nodded his acquiescence, and he was sooo glad he had. Carmen had taken such good care of him; he thought himself halfway to being in love.

Shon stood, struggling into his shirt and pants. In no time, he was ready to head into the kitchen for a quick cup of pick me up.

He rubbed a hand over his whiskered face. "Shall I bring you some coffee?"

"No." Carmen grabbed her robe from the floor, put it on, then fumbled under the bed for her slippers. "I'll join you."

Shon thought about his last time with Bekka, remarking on the differences between the two women. Bekka was a spoiled brat who'd always wanted her own way. Carmen was eager to please and fun to be around. She gave rather than received.

Shon appreciated that.

There was another difference. Carmen genuinely liked him. With Bekka, he'd always felt the only reason she wanted him was because she couldn't have him.

"I'm ready." Carmen sprang from the bed. As she walked toward him, her robe came partially open, exposing a globe of light-brown skin and perky bud.

Shon licked his lips at the view. Carmen blushed, the rising red lifting high in her cheeks. She adjusted her robe and flipped her hair long hair over her bosom.

To Shon, Carmen became even more tantalizing for hiding her assets from his view. He raked his eyes over her barely concealed form, the exposed skin of her muscular legs, right down to the pink polish on her toes. Carmen was better than Bekka in a lot of ways. The things she—

Carmen flew at him, her hand whipping from around her back. In it was a syringe dripping with clear fluid.

"What are you do—"

Carmen pressed the needle into his skin. Sleep agent entered his bloodstream, making him woozy. He struck drunkenly at the syringe, knocking it to the floor. His vision went for a tilt-a-whirl ride as the door tripled in his view and his body became lethargic with numbness.

Shon felt something land on his back while a snake, a python judging by the strength and pressure, clamped around his thighs.

The serpent was Carmen. Her legs twisted around his as her hand came around to stick the tip of the needle into his bicep.

She pressed the plunger down.

Carmen's brown hair caressed his cheek as Shon's attempted to grab the door handle. He jerked his head back, crashing the back of his skull into the delicate bridge of Carmen's nose.

A squawk rang in his ears. Carmen slipped from him. Her feet tangled with his legs, nearly making him fall. He stumbled over her limbs to yank the door open, slamming it into the opposite wall.

Shon wobbled back and forth in a slow march, bouncing off the walls of the hallway until he reached the open space of the living room. The gray fog, which had started at the corners of his mind, invaded his senses and obliterated all thought.

The kitchen door opened. Anatoly, carrying an unresponsive Jeannie in his arms, came into view.

The sight was so bizarre that Shon babbled. He barked, "Bacon is good," before his mouth stopped functioning.

Shon's vision swam, making everything indiscernible. He stumbled as he collided with the armrest of the couch. Toppling forward, his torso hung suspended while his legs teeter-totted in the air. Gravity eventually won the battle, carrying him to the floor.

Closing his weary eyes, Shon succumbed to darkness.

Demetri stepped over Shon's prostrate body as Carmen, her nose bloodied and dripping from Shon's accidental head-butt emerged from the bedroom. Svetlana came from the bedroom, holding onto the black handle of Fifi's carrying cage. The little dog twisted in circles, snarling and yapping furiously.

"Pack them up," Demetri said to no one in particular. "We have a long drive ahead of us."