Forbidden Sensations: A Dark Romance Savannah Rose (readnow TXT) 📖

My back stiffened as the door creaked open. The fact that we were here, waiting for exactly this moment meant that I shouldn’t have been as tense as I was. Plus, I didn’t really peg myself as the suspicious type. I guess you learn something new every day.

This party, if you could call it that, wouldn’t start until we’d gathered the entire tribe. Everyone seemed to be dragging their feet though, slowly making their way in.

“What did you do, stop at the mall on the way here?” Macy smirked, her blue eyes flashing darkly in the dim light as she shifted her to gaze to Julianne. She smirked back and shrugged, looking a lot less nervous than I felt in this dingy cabin.

Okay, so maybe that was the privilege in me talking.

Camp Wytipo turned enough of a profit every summer to put decent lighting in the cabins. I’m pretty sure the fading yellow bulbs were only there to create a rustic ambiance—an ambiance which didn’t extend to the glistening porcelain bathrooms, but this camp didn’t cater to kids who were used to digging a hole to bury their own shit in.

“Of course not,” Julianne sniffed, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. I swear she could have been a shampoo model if she didn’t think it was beneath her. Even in the dim light her hair shimmered and shone like magic. “You can’t do a real séance with an off the shelf Ouija board,” she said. “I—borrowed it from my grandma.”

Joan clapped her hands over her mouth and stared at Julianne with a combination of awe and horror.

“Grandmother Bird?” she whispered hoarsely.

I tried not to flinch or give off any sign of just how downright uncomfortable I was with this whole mess.

It wasn’t that I believed in ghosts and such. But it wasn’t like I didn’t believe in them.

“Of course, Grandmother Bird,” Julianne tsked with a wicked twinkle in her eye. “Only the most famous Medium to ever bless Texas with her presence would have a real Ouija board.”

“One of the most famous,” I said blandly.

Julianne shot me an irritated glance. “You better not let her hear you say that. She’ll hex you faster than you can say, ‘sorry, granny.’”

“Sorry, granny,” I said sarcastically. “What? It’s not like she’s listening. Besides, it’s a fact. Lady Olaise is just as famous, maybe more.”

Joan shook her head furiously, her copper hair whipping the air behind her. “Lady Olaise isn’t half the medium Grandmother Bird is. Grandmother Bird told my mom that her baby would die, you know, and every baby she had after it. Told her she should get an abortion and spare everybody the pain. My mom would have sued her if her husband hadn’t talked her out of it.”

Joan scowled at the floor, an expression which had become almost permanent on her pretty face over the last few months. “Then the baby died. Mom hasn’t tried since. Grandmother Bird is the real deal—if that’s her board—”

“It is,” Julianne interrupted.

“—then it’ll tell us for sure whether the Seymore brothers had anything to do with Kitty May’s disappearance.” Joan didn’t take any notice of Julianne’s interruption, which vexed Julianne.

“Explain to me again why you think the Seymore kids did it?” Adam’s voice rang through the girls’ cabin like an invading force, prompting all eyes to shoot in his direction.

“Lower your voice,” Julianne hissed as she grabbed his arm and yanked him to the floor. “If they know we have boys in here, they’ll never let us finish this.”

Adam smiled slowly, his eyes half-hooded. It’s a look we’d all seen on TV more times than we could count—his dad’s a TV host, one who likes to make celebrities squirm. That smile usually followed a particularly uncomfortable or pointed question. I never watched the show much. It made me feel gross.

“Then pretend I’m a girl and tell me why you think the Seymore brothers disappeared Kitty May,” he whispered.

Julianne sniffed. “Because whenever anything goes wrong in this town, you can bet they had something to do with it. They’re all deviants, you know. Mr. Seymore only adopts kids who are too bad to stay with other foster families. He always did. The state just sends him troubled kids nowadays, because they know they’ll end up there eventually. So, yeah. Car stolen? Look at Seymore. House broken into? Look at Seymore. The townhall burns to the ground? You guessed it, Seymore. Kid goes missing without a trace? Seymore.”

“Are you talking about Kitty May or Sabrina Fisher?” I asked quietly.

Julianne gave me a sharp look. “Both,” she snapped. “You know they had a Seymore pinned for Sabrina. Had it in the bag. His pseudo-daddy bought off the judge, though.”

It rankled me when she talked about Jason Seymore being a pseudo-daddy, but I hadn’t been in town long enough to argue the point.

Maybe the guy really did just phone it in—but that wasn’t the impression I got.

For as much havoc as the Seymore boys wreaked, they always did it together. They didn’t share blood, but whatever bond they did have was as strong as any sibling relationship I’d seen. I couldn’t really imagine that being the case if Jason Seymore was just playing daddy and not actually putting in some real work.

Adam raised his eyebrows. “You don’t blame them for Sabrina Fisher’s death, do you? The oldest ones are our age. That would have made them, what, nine when she died?”

“You’re forgetting the older Seymore boys,” Julianne sniffed. “Eric Seymore was dating Sabrina. He skipped town after his dad got him off for murder. You know the younger Seymores look up to the older ones, don’t you? Daddy sure as hell doesn’t raise them.”

Adam shrugged casually and pretended to examine his fingernails. “You’re making a lot of assumptions—unless you’re a lot closer to the family than you’re willing to admit.”

Julianne narrowed her eyes at him.