Our bond was stronger than ever and we had new blood in our ranks.
I couldn’t say for sure what tomorrow held, but the way my heart pounded let me know I was excited to find out. Because this might have been the end of one man’s life, but it felt like it was just the beginning of ours.
My head hurt like a bitch as I gazed down at the television on the floor below, my fingers wrapped around the railings at the edge of the balcony. I couldn’t even concentrate on the TV show, zombies blurring out of focus as I yawned. What am I watching again?
I was dog tired, but I couldn’t sleep until I was sure I wasn’t concussed. And beyond that, I wasn’t sure I could sleep no matter how exhausted I was. Last night was starting to haunt me. Every time my eyelids drooped, I felt Merl’s hands on my flesh. I felt that knife sinking between his ribs. I relived the relief, then the fear.
I killed someone.
Then my mind shifted to the next part of the night when that man with the rash had reared over me, coughing his lungs up.
I lifted a hand to my throat, checking my glands, hunting for signs that the Hades Virus was eating its way into my body.
I’d used my phone to look up all the symptoms and how they developed. The fever came first, then the cough and finally the rash. A shiver darted down my spine and I didn’t know if the room was cold or if I was getting sick, but all I could do was wrap Saint’s comforter tighter around me.
God, please don’t let me get sick.
There was a sixty percent chance of death if I had it. Sixty fucking percent. Those odds weren’t at all comforting and I clung tighter to the balcony railings as my heart beat out of tune. I’d told the Night Keepers about Bait letting the looters in and knew he was going to face a hellish fate for that, but how could I even feel bad for that right now?
“Not asleep are you, baby?” Kyan’s voice carried to me and I leaned forward as he, Saint and Blake walked in downstairs.
“No,” I answered.
“Strip down,” Saint commanded them as he headed to the kitchen, grabbing out a garbage bag and pulling off his clothes as he tossed them into it. “Both of you. Now,” he demanded and they didn’t need to be told again as they all got naked before me and dumped their clothes in the bag.
My throat tightened and I inhaled sharply in fear, holding my hand to my neck only to realise it wasn’t a symptom of the damn virus, I was just reacting to the godlike men down below me with their sharply cut abs, broad shoulders and bulging biceps. I wasn’t getting a sore throat or a cough. I cursed myself, forcing my gaze back to the television and whatever the hell I’d been watching for the past five hours. It was ridiculous to think I could focus on the guys’ bodies right now. A part of me wished we could all curl up in a bed together and the press of all those muscles just might soothe me from the shock of last night. Pathetic as it was, I wanted to be held. I needed the reassurance that I wasn’t some stone cold killer. But I hated myself for thinking that I could seek it from them.
“Where’s Monroe?” I asked, unable to believe what Nash had done for me last night.
Though his actions were possibly the most believable of them all. As far as I’d been aware, I was a plaything to Kyan, a crutch to Blake and a chew toy to Saint. But it turned out, I wasn’t. Though I didn’t know what that did make me to them now. Or maybe I was still all of those things. Maybe they’d seen their precious pet about to be destroyed and none of them could stand the thought of another man tarnishing their property.
That thought sullied my mood as they headed away into Blake’s room together down the hall. The shower sounded from far away and I had the most vivid image of them all in it together before I shook my head at myself. Of course they’re not showering together. They’re not in a porno shoot. They just helped me kill a guy and disposed of his body. Real fucking sexy, Tatum.
The scariest thing that I really didn’t want to admit to myself, was that there was something sexy about it. Though maybe sexy wasn’t the word. Astonishing, startling, galvanising. They hadn’t just bathed their hands in blood for me tonight, they’d offered up a piece of their souls to me. So what did that mean? That the hatred would stop? The cruelty? The endless bullying that hurt me harder than a knife slicing into my chest?
I was their slave turned equal. Or that was how it felt. Like I’d been welcomed into the fold with each strike of that blade. Like the blood they’d spilled had painted out our fates and intertwined us irrevocably. But I didn’t think I liked that idea. I didn’t want to be bound to those three boys. Monroe, I could accept. But the Night Keepers? It was like the legend of the Night People had really come true. Like they really did possess me now.
I waited for them all to return, my thoughts turning inward to my body as I tried to assess myself for any signs of a change in temperature. I clung to Saint’s comforter, wishing there was a fire in the grate downstairs to battle this chill. The Temple was old and not made to be comfortable. It was meant to be a place for worship, and nothing made you feel unsettled like doming roofs and flagstones that were icily cold to kneel on.
Kyan was the first to appear from the shower, dressing in low-riding navy sweatpants and nothing else. His bare feet padded across the carpet as I watched like a hawk in a nest, scouring his tattoos and the golden flesh that housed them.
“Cold baby?” he asked and I nodded as he looked up at me. “I’ll get you warm.”
He moved to the fireplace, kneeling down and giving me a view of the muscles that tapered down his lower back and the huge tattoo of a blood soaked warrior that spread across his shoulder blades and over his back in artful strokes. He was a machine wearing skin, his body built for power and violent efficiency. The fact that he was knelt there building me a fire seemed like an absolute contradiction to his nature. Not that I was planning on pointing that out.
He soon had a pyre in place, stuffing newspaper beneath it and lighting it with the strike of a match.
“Could you start a fire without those if you were lost in the wild, Kyan?” I asked curiously and he smirked as he stood up, moving to the couch directly below me and throwing himself down on it.
He cupped his head in his hands and I didn’t let my gaze budge an inch from his eyes as he laid himself out. “Nope,” he admitted. “Can you?”
“Yep,” I echoed his tone, making his smile grow. “Why are you so happy?”
“I think this lifestyle suits me,” he said thoughtfully.
“What? Murdering people and burying their bodies?” I asked and he considered it.
“Naw, it’s not that exactly. I like the thrill, I like being bad. I like having secrets.”
“How many secrets do you have?” I asked, my voice lowering instinctively as I pressed my forehead to the railings and gazed between them.
“More than you have toes on your feet,” he said and I wiggled my toes as they dangled above him.
“That’s a lot of secrets to carry around. Aren’t they heavy?” I asked and he shrugged, a darkness entering his eyes for a second that was all the answer I needed. Kyan might have looked like the big bad wolf, and maybe he’d eaten his fair share of Red Riding Hoods too, but there was more to him than met the eye. And sometimes, I was determined to find out what it was.
“How’s your head?” he smoothly changed the subject and I rubbed the back of it in response, feeling the bump Merl had left on it when he cracked it against the stone. Aiming to knock me out so he could get my pants down, his dick out…ergh. I shuddered, shutting my eyes as I tried to fight the image away. But I was sure it was going to be with me forever, burned into the backs of my eyes like it had been branded there with hot pokers. The worst part of it all was the shame that I’d almost been overwhelmed by him. I was supposed to be prepared. But now I knew that training for something and living it weren’t the same. And he’d been strong…so fucking strong.
“Merl was a mean motherfucker, you know,” Kyan said in a gravelly tone and my eyes cracked open. It was like he could read
my thoughts. “The night we met him at the pit, he was blind drunk which was why I put him down so easy, but when he was sober he gave me a run for my money from time to time. He won almost as many fights in the ring as I did.”
I chewed on my lower lip as emotion swelled inside me. I fought it back, not wanting Kyan to see me weak. But he already had. He’d seen me beneath that guy, he’d almost seen me ruined. And it left me feeling so exposed, so small. Like he’d witnessed all of my failings and vulnerabilities. My dad had been hard on me in my training. He wanted me to be the best, I’d actually thought I was for a while. I hadn’t been beaten by an opponent in a long time. But the first time it counted…I’d nearly been defeated.
The fire was finally blazing and the warmth was sailing up to me enough to start chasing away the numbness in my skin.
I realised my cheeks were wet and I jerked backwards out of sight, wiping my eyes and swearing under my breath. The last thing I needed was to expose more of my weaknesses to Kyan.
“It kills me that I can’t come up there and wrap you in my arms,” his voice carried to me.
“I don’t need to be taken care of,” I said, adding extra bite to my voice to counter the fact that he’d probably seen me crying. But deep down, I knew I was lying to myself. I quietly wanted to be taken care of today. Just this once. But I’d never admit it.
“I know,” he growled. “But I wanna do it because you’re mine and I look after my things.”
My heart quickened at his words. There was something achingly sweet about them, yet entirely possessive and obnoxious too. “I’m not yours.”
“I disagree,” he said, deadly seriously.
I opened my mouth to retort, heat seeping through my flesh-
“Barbie,” Saint’s voice snapped through the air as sharp as a knife.
I leaned forwards and found him looking up at me in a white T-shirt and grey sweatpants. “Are you dizzy?” he asked and I shook my head, a frown pinching my brow. “Nauseous?”
“No.”
“Blurry vision?”
“No.”
“Any ringing in your ears?” he asked and I shook my head.
He nodded satisfactorily. “Then you’re not concussed. Go to bed.”
“I don’t think I can-”
“Go to bed,” he commanded. “It’s not a request.”
I sighed, rising to my feet and moving over to his bed before falling down onto it with the comforter over me. I was surrounded by the scent of fresh laundry detergent. The smell was almost homely, inviting and I crawled further up the bed, nestling into his pillows, finding everything about it impossibly comfortable. He must have paid a fortune for this bed, it felt like an actual cloud hugging my body. And somehow, despite all the worry and fear that had hounded me since the moment we’d returned here last night, the darkness took me away and the blissful lull of sleep claimed me.
***
I woke to a repetitive shhhhck shhhck shhhck noise and folded the comforter back, yawning as I gazed across at the huge stained glass window on the opposite side of The Temple. Rain was cascading against the roof, the sound pulling at the chords of memories in my chest. Me and my dad camping in Virgina. The restroom was legit a hole in the ground in an outhouse thirty feet from the small campsite. It had rained one night and I’d run to it with my hood pulled up then listened to the rain tinkling on the tin roof while I peed. It was a stupid, weird kind of memory. And yet it was real and brought warmth to my bones. It reminded me of Dad and those days when I’d had someone to rely on constantly. I’d never realised that wouldn’t last.
I headed across the room to the balcony railing, my eyes falling on Kyan below who’d passed out on the couch, his arm slung over his eyes and the Xbox control balancing on his stomach.
Saint was on his knees, scrubbing the floor of the kitchenette, a bucket beside him as he laboured to clean every inch of it, his back muscles flexing with every push and pull of his arms. I’d never seen him so focused, his gaze fixed on his work, he almost looked like he was in a trance.
“Put that pizza back where you found it or I’ll beat your head in with a jar of marmalade,” Kyan slurred in his sleep and I released a breath of laughter.
“Does it please you to see me on my knees, Barbie?” Saint looked up with his features cast in shadow and my heart ticked faster.
“A little,” I admitted. “Though it looks like you’re enjoying it.”
“I take pleasure in jobs done thoroughly,” he said, getting to his feet and dropping the brush into the bucket. He rinsed his hands in the sink then set to work emptying out the bucket and cleaning that too.
The scent of bleach hit the back of my throat and a cough erupted from me. Saint fell statue still as he gazed up at me and I held my throat, sure it had just been the bleach. At least, I was fairly sure. I wasn’t overheated. Or was I?
I pressed a hand to my forehead, my breathing coming raggedly as I tried to work it out.
Stay calm. Deep breaths. Think this through logically.
Saint strode purposefully across the room to a low cupboard beneath a window. He crouched down and yanked it open, thumbing methodically through the contents before producing something from within it. Then he moved to the bottom of the steps and tossed it up to me. A thermometer skittered across the floor and I picked it up with my heart thundering in my ears.
“Hold it under your tongue for one minute,” he instructed.
I didn’t know if the tension in his voice was anger or concern. But it simply had to be the former. Saint didn’t get concerned about anyone or anything. He probably wanted to figure out if I was infected so he could plot his next move. Maybe I’d be the next body that ended up burned and buried in this school. Or whatever the hell they’d done with it. I hadn’t asked, but I’d smelled the smoke on them. Part of me didn’t want to know the gritty details. Because then it was real and I’d have to accept that they’d reduced that man to a pile of ash like he never even existed. And somehow that was worse than killing him. Making him nothing was disturbing. Not that I would have wanted anything different. I just didn’t know how to handle all of these conflicting emotions about his death. He was bad, depraved, evil. I couldn’t forget that.
I placed the thermometer under my tongue and the metallic taste of it filled my senses, drawing my thoughts away from Merl again. I was going to need a thousand distractions to keep him from my mind. The strangest thing was, despite all the emotions I felt towards his death, guilt didn’t once come into it. I felt responsible though. I felt the weight of his death like a ten ton truck on my shoulders. But he’d been hurting me. He would have hurt me far worse too. So in the end, all I’d done was survive.
The thermometer bleeped and I took it out, gazing down at the number.
“Well?” Saint demanded, still at the bottom of the stairs.
“Normal,” I told him with a breath of relief and I could have imagined it, but I swear his shoulders dropped a fraction.
He walked away, moving around the room as if assessing whether everything was in its rightful place. When he reached Kyan, he tidied the pillows around him and placed the Xbox controller back on top of the console with the other two, perfectly aligned. Then he got out a handheld hoover and used it to collect the crumbs from the bag of chips Kyan had apparently devoured before passing out, even running it over his chest and not stirring him at all. He slept like the dead.
When Saint was done cleaning he stood by the refrigerator, seeming out of place as he stared at nothing in particular.
I settled myself back down on the edge of the balcony, poking my legs through the holes between the railings as I surveyed him. There was something fascinating about him and I took the opportunity to observe him like I’d been tempted to a thousand times before. His features were so perfectly symmetrical that you couldn’t help but stare and study them. He was beautiful in a cruel sort of way. Like the devil had painted him pretty just to make this twisted creature even more lethal. His allure w
as a deadly trap. And I somehow couldn’t imagine him being intimate with a girl unless they were down on their knees, worshipping his cock like it was the spear of fucking destiny.
He suddenly threw his fist into the fridge, leaving a sizeable dent in it and I sat upright in alarm.
“What the hell?” I asked as he shook out his hand, eyeing the mark he’d left on the refrigerator. He took hold of a magnetic reminders board and slid it smoothly over the dent.
“Great, now we need a new refrigerator,” he muttered like that was the worst thing that had happened tonight.
“Are you alright?” I asked, kind of hating myself for it. He didn’t deserve for me to care, but a twitch in my heart said I did.
“My routine is fucked, Barbie. All of it is fucked. What am I supposed to do with myself?” He turned his gaze to the clock on the wall with a growl, muttering something about it being twelve forty three and that being an insult to the whole of humanity.
“Maybe you should get some rest,” I suggested, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.
“I suppose,” he said in growl. “But if I don’t sleep until tomorrow morning and start again fresh I’m going to kill myself.”
Woah, grumps alert.
His gaze moved from the couch where Kyan was sleeping to the chair beyond him, his lips tightly pressed together. Finally, he strode up to the fire and lay down on the rug on his back, shutting his eyes. I half expected him to fold his arms across his chest like Count Dracula, but after a while, his head lolled and a peacefulness fell over his expression that I’d never seen in his waking life. It was captivating. Almost angelic. Which was entirely paradoxical.
I cocked my head, unable to look away, especially when he rolled onto his side and curled up like a child. It made him seem almost human.
With the boys out for the count, I got to my feet, heading back to bed and checking my phone. I had a couple of messages from Mila making sure I was okay and I shot her one back confirming it and asking how she was doing in quarantine.
Kings of Lockdown: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep Book 2) Page 2