I grabbed a large, plastic jug from a cupboard then opened the freezer, taking out a bag of ice and pouring the whole lot into it. Then I tossed the bag in the trash with a vicious smile on my face as I kicked the freezer door closed and headed back to Blake’s room.
Let’s see how he likes it…
Adrenaline sang in my veins as I entered, finding him in the same position I’d left him in, his chest slowly rising and falling as if he’d fallen back asleep.
Oh poor sleepy baby, what a pity I’m going to ruin your morning before it’s even begun.
I held the jug in one hand as I crawled onto the bed, moving carefully over him before straddling his hips and pressing my weight down. His hand slid onto my bare leg and heat burned between my thighs as he grew rock hard beneath me.
Gah, why does he always get me so hot? It was impossible not to be turned on when I remembered how good we’d been together. Especially when I felt him swelling against my panties, reminding me just how big he was. I needed to keep my libido locked down because the Night Keepers were my own brand of heroin. Addictive and so terribly damn bad for me, I was going to end up permanently damaged by the time this was all done.
Blake was still freaking asleep with his arm slung over his eyes, but his fingers slid beneath the hem of my nightdress as he murmured something about how soft my skin was.
I trailed my palm down the hard muscles of his chest in a slow descent and felt him beginning to stir more as I reached his underwear. I sat back on his thighs, tugging his waistband wide to give me room then tipped the entire jug of ice into his boxers.
“Motherfucker!” he roared, shooting upright and I slammed a hand to his shoulder to stop him from accidentally headbutting me, a laugh tumbling from the depths of my body.
I dropped the jug and released his waistband so it snapped back against his skin, his boxers bulging with ice cubes.
“Tatum!” he roared in my face, grabbing hold of my hips about to throw me off as his dark green eyes flared with fury.
“Take your punishment,” I demanded, my heartbeat thumping in my ears with excitement. “You break the rules, then you pay for it, Bowman. Just like I have to.”
His eyes widened as his hand landed on the ice packing out his underwear between us and his face pinched in pain.
“You iced my balls,” he rasped. “And my fucking morning glory.”
“Not so glorious now, I bet,” I purred, drinking in my victory and gripping his waistband in the hopes of getting a look at his chilled junk for more laughs.
He slapped my hand away with a snarl and I smiled darkly at him, leaning in close to his face. “Lie down and stay here until it melts.”
His jaw pulsed with anger and his lips tightened into a thin line. “You’re asking for trouble, Cinders,” he said in a deadly tone, his body rigid with tension like he was about to refuse me.
I pushed his shoulders and he resisted a second longer before falling down beneath me, giving in with a growl of anger. I smirked as I enjoyed the view for a moment then swung my leg over him, slipping out of bed and heading into the bathroom. “You’d better be here when I come back.”
I glanced over my shoulder, finding him watching me with narrowed eyes and a heaving chest as he fought to keep his hands away from his crotch, his fists balled up at his sides. It gave me a thrill to see him complying, suffering, and another laugh escaped me as I nudged the door shut and headed to the shower.
When I returned to the room wrapped in a towel, he was lying in a wet patch that spread around him on the mattress. He was pissed as hell. Legit fuming. But he hadn’t moved. He’d taken his punishment like a good boy and that made me feel all kinds of things. Mostly excited at knowing they really were going to abide by my rules, punishments and all. And that was just the ice-ing on this deliciously vengeful cake.
“Happy now?” he hissed.
“Ecstatic.” I beamed and he got out of bed, stalking towards me like a raging tiger and my back hit the wall in alarm. Blake was the most unpredictable of the Night Keepers. And since he’d dragged me into the woods, I couldn’t forget just how far he was willing to go. His hate for me was almost understandable. But it made him even more dangerous than Saint. How close had he really come to pulling that trigger?
He pressed a hand to the bricks above my head, leaning down with his upper lip peeling back. “Be afraid, Cinderella, be very fucking afraid.”
A shiver ran through me as he leaned in close to my face and my toes curled against the carpet, my breathing becoming ragged.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I whispered, though that wasn’t entirely true. When I recalled standing in that grave beneath him, I knew how capable he was of terrifying me. And I wasn’t going to underestimate him ever again.
“You are, actually,” his voice dropped an octave and I clamped my thighs together as his dominating aura wrapped around me.
It was obvious why Blake Bowman was a king at this school. It wasn’t even his unjustly beautiful looks, his steel clad muscles or the way his tongue could make a girl come apart with words alone. It was an innate quality. Something I couldn’t put my finger on exactly, yet could feel in every pulsing inch of my flesh. He was a god capable of creation or destruction, it just depended what he turned his mind to.
He pushed away from me, marching into the bathroom and slamming the door so hard that the whole Temple rattled and my heart rattled along with it.
I knew I was playing a deadly game, but I’d come out of this one victorious. I’d poked a beast. And I planned on poking a few more.
Don’t blink, Tatum.
While he was showering, I grabbed my satchel from the side of the bed and hooked out my school diary, flipping it open on the blank back page. I grabbed a pen and pulled the cap off with my teeth, my heart pounding out a powerful beat as I wrote the list of the Night Keepers’ crimes against me which had been swirling in my head for the last day.
The sex tape
The fish stew
The Unspeakables
The storm
The font
The bathtub
The ice
The gun
The clothes
The humiliation
The shower
The letters
THE VOW
I’d paid Blake back for the ice he’d shoved into my panties so I took my pen and struck out that crime. But I had a long way to go in getting revenge for all of their cruelty. I would though. I swore it on everything I was. The Night Keepers were going to suffer.
***
I walked back from the library in a leggings and white sweater combo Saint had picked out for me, glad of the two hours I’d bargained for in the evenings for my studies. It gave me time to breathe, to think. And not just that, but I could hang out with other people. The Unspeakables happened to study there most evenings too so I’d spent the past couple of nights sitting with them and trying to get them to open up. It was difficult when they were scared shitless all the time. But if I could just break down their defences and build up their confidence, I’d have a mini army at my back.
With each step I took along the dark and winding path through the trees towards The Temple, I felt strangely drawn back to it. I’d taken the longer route around the west side of the lake to buy myself more time alone, but I kind of wished I hadn’t now. There was a thick atmosphere in the air tonight, the clouds eerily still in the sky and the moon gazing down at me like it was waiting for something to happen.
A drumming started up somewhere far behind me on campus and my heart jolted at the noise. It sounded like a war beat, the heavy thumping raising the hairs on the back of my neck. A cheer called up in the distance far away and I guessed there was a party breaking out on campus somewhere. One which I doubted followed any social distancing rules…
I made it back to The Temple as a breeze picked up, chilling me through and I wished I’d brought a jacket. I pushed the door open and gasped as hands seized me, pulling me inside
, my heart lurching in fear. Kyan had hold of me, his chest bare and marked with red and white handprints and symbols, a long, black cloak hanging around his shoulders. His hair was loose and hung in messy tresses down to his shoulders, giving him a wild look that made my legs feel unsteady.
I tried to pull away, my heart thrashing at the memory of him wearing this very same thing the night they’d carried me down to the beach and bound me to them.
“Let go,” I demanded, my voice thankfully not betraying my unease as one of Saint’s dramatic orchestral songs hit a crescendo around us.
“Don’t be scared, baby,” Kyan purred, reeling me closer rather than obeying my command. “Tonight’s a special night.”
“What do you-” I started, but my words fell dead on my tongue as he stepped aside and I found Saint and Blake standing either side of Monroe in their Night Keeper regalia, the two of them painted up just like Kyan was. Monroe’s eyes were dark and his mouth was fixed into a harsh line. His chest was bare above his jeans and my heart pounded as my gaze raked over the beautiful tattoos on his chest, pausing on the hunting tigress.
Kyan pressed a hand to my back, pushing me toward him and I spotted two trays of red and white paint at his feet. “Mark him as ours, baby,” he murmured in my ear. “Seems only right that our queen should make a new king.”
My throat thickened as Monroe met my gaze, his eyes searing into me as he silently asked me to go along with this. It was what I wanted anyway. Having him amongst us was the best way possible to target the Night Keepers. He’d be a sheep in wolf’s clothing. But why did it suddenly feel like doing this was akin to offering up a piece of his soul?
The Night Keeper legend that the three of them embodied was just a story. And yet…I could feel the weight of it in the air, sense a prickling in my skin that had nothing to do with old legends. It was real and tangible and I could practically see Monroe’s decision to join them hanging over him like the sword of Damocles.
As I reached him and the Night Keepers circled around us, I questioned Monroe with my eyes and he inclined his head just enough to let me know that this was happening. There was no backing out. He was going to become a Night Keeper. And I would be bound to him as I was to the others.
Breathe, Tatum, just freaking breathe.
Kyan took my bag from me and tossed it on the couch before directing me forward. “Wet your hands in the paint.”
I released a ragged breath, relief winding around my heart as my body caught up with the knowledge that they weren’t about to do something terrible to me. I was on high alert around them at all times since the coffin incident; it was like living with a shot of adrenaline forever circling in my veins.
I knelt down and rolled up my sleeves, pressing my hands into the paint and gazing up at Monroe as Saint’s music built in my ears to an ever quickening beat.
I reached up, pressing my right hand to the warmth of Monroe’s stomach and his muscles flexed beneath my palm as my hand print was branded on him in white. Then I stood, pressing my left hand in red to the tigress over his chest. The heat of his flesh sent a rampant energy crashing through me and I tasted my lips as I glanced up at him, finding him watching me like he couldn’t look away. I couldn’t either.
“Good girl. Here…” Saint moved forward, taking hold of my wrist in a surprisingly gentle grip and guiding my finger to paint strange symbols onto Monroe’s body. When he was done, I painted Monroe’s cheeks, half in red, half in white and my gaze hooked on his mouth, an ache of temptation capturing me whole. He didn’t seem like a teacher in that moment, he felt far more powerful. Like an ascending deity.
“Your turn, Cinders,” Blake caught my waist, tugging me away from Monroe who still hadn’t voiced a word about all of this.
“Go shower,” Saint commanded, pointing me towards his room upstairs and Blake nudged me in that direction.
“Okay.” I turned to walk away when Saint’s hand clamped around my wrist, tugging me back to face him.
“Okay what?” he growled, danger flickering in his eyes.
I felt Monroe’s gaze on me and hated that he was watching me be rebuked by this asshole. He’d never witnessed my abuse up close, even though he’d heard all about it.
I knew what Saint wanted, but I also refused to make life easy on him these days. “Okay, Lord Fuckwit?” I guessed innocently, my voice as sweet as sugar and the others started laughing. Saint did not. His eyes were swirling like a hurricane and my heart thundered in my ears as I waited for him to chew me out.
“Do you think your filthy tongue is amusing, Plague?” Saint asked icily and everyone’s laughter fell dead.
“It was just a joke, wasn’t it Tatum?” Monroe offered, but I didn’t acknowledge him, my eyes glued to Saint in a dare. It wasn’t a joke. It was a threat to his little regime. And I was going to face his wrath and deny him the dose of fear he wanted from me.
“Answer my question,” Saint snapped, his voice cutting the air to ribbons.
“Yes, I think my filthy tongue is amusing,” I deadpanned, my eyes burning from how few times I’d blinked in the past minute.
Saint strode forward suddenly, his grip on my arm iron clad as he tugged me toward the stairs.
“Saint,” Monroe called. “We need to finish getting ready.”
I knew he was doing it for me, but if he really thought Saint would stop once he had an idea in his head, he was fast going to learn he was wrong.
I kept pace with Saint as he jogged up the stairs, refusing to be dragged the whole way and lifting my chin as if I wasn’t in the least bit bothered by where this was leading. But inside, everything twisted and knotted, making me sick with worry. I stole a glance at the others down below as Blake pinned a cloak around Monroe’s neck. He looked kingly…dark…like one of them. And I wasn’t sure I liked it.
Saint led me into his bathroom, slamming the door shut and releasing me at last. He pointed to the shower. “In. Clothes on. Kneel down.”
I choked back the question in my throat - what are you going to do to me?? - and walked confidently into the shower. I turned to face him, dropping to my knees and gazing evenly up at him as if I wasn’t rattled to my core.
He surveyed me like that for a long moment, looking like the king of darkness in his cloak and painted flesh. He stepped forward, leaning over me to turn the shower on and I winced as freezing water washed over my head, chilling me in an instant.
He turned to the sink, opening the cupboard beneath it and taking out something I couldn’t see as I started to shiver. He tossed a packet in the trash then turned to me with something concealed in his palm.
“Eyes shut, tongue out,” he commanded and panic splintered across my spine.
Tongue out?!
I wanted to refuse, but knew it would get me nowhere. So I needed to front this out.
Face it like you’ll make him face it when it’s your time to punish him.
A wave of calm washed over me at that thought and I met his gaze with a cool determination. “One day, it’s going to be you on your knees and me striking the whip,” I told him, a dark smile pulling at my mouth.
He moved forward so I fell into his shadow and all the brightness of the room seemed to fade. “Oh I don’t think so, Barbie. I was made to follow rules. So I’ll break yours approximately the same time as a halo appears above my head and I receive my acceptance letter from heaven.”
I glowered a challenge at that and he smiled his victory like he’d already won. I wasn’t going to give up, but he was going to be nearly impossible to break. As soon as I found a crack though, I’d tear into it with tooth and claw and never let go. I will defeat you Saint Memphis.
Saint crouched before me but was somehow still taller, his chin cocked down to gaze into my eyes. “Obey me.”
I hesitated for one endless second, my inner rebel not liking being told what to do. But I wasn’t going to balk.
I closed my eyes and stuck my tongue out, fighting the urge to flinch as I sensed him m
oving even closer. He took a handful of my hair, yanking my head back and the water cascaded over me, wetting my face and running down my cheeks in streams. Something hard and apple scented pressed to my tongue and I fought the urge to jerk away as Saint scrubbed the bar of soap over my mouth in firm strokes. Gah!
“Let’s see if you curse at me after your tongue has been washed clean, Plague,” Saint purred and I squeezed my eyes tighter as the water washed away the suds on my tongue only to be replaced by more and more as he continued to rub the soap up into a lather.
It tasted vile and I battled the urge to gag as he continued.
This was cruel and humiliating, just like everything else he did to me. It made me feel ill and I had to hold myself back from trying to scratch his eyes out for it.
“Spit,” he said at last, removing the soap from my tongue.
I did, wiping my tongue on the back of my arm, wincing as the bitter taste remained there to torment me.
Saint tossed the soap at my feet, moving to stand and casually wiping his hands off on a towel beside the sink. “Your outfit will be waiting for you on the bed when you’re done.”
With that, he swept from the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving me soaking wet and shivering beneath the icy flow. I immediately switched the tap to warm water, wondering when I’d ever get the scent of apple from my nose. Saint’s scent. He’d branded me again. That son of a bitch.
I stripped off and used my vanilla honey blossom shower gel to scrub away the lasting smell of him whilst warming myself up in the heated water.
That power-hoarding, soap-wielding, dickzilla. One day I’ll ram a bar of soap down his throat and see if it can clean his filthy, wicked innards.
I finally exited the shower, towel drying my hair and combing my fingers through it so it would dry in soft waves.
My heart stammered as I thought over what the hell was going to happen tonight. I wanted Monroe to join them, so why did it terrify me too?
It’s just some old myth, it doesn’t mean anything.
But it did in one sense. The whole school respected it. If Monroe had held power before, it was nothing to what he’d have after tonight.
Kings of Lockdown: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep Book 2) Page 9