I gazed up at him from under my lashes, no longer washing him as his eyes dipped to my mouth. His muscles were tight and the tattoos on his chest and arms made me ache to explore his flesh.
“Did you see their faces?” I asked, another laugh escaping me and a low one left him as he fought to keep his voice down.
“Yeah, I can’t wait to show the whole school their disgrace,” he murmured, inching closer again, my thoughts growing fuzzy.
My hands curled against his flesh, no longer washing him, but he didn’t draw away. He crowded me in against the back wall of the shower and my pulse thundered. What are we doing?
This was so wrong in the best, most twisted way possible. His chest brushed mine and I inhaled sharply, looking up at him in surprise.
“You make me want to break every rule I’ve ever vowed to abide by and destroy every contract I’ve ever signed, Tatum Rivers.”
Oh shit.
“Then why don’t you?” I dared, my tongue too heavy and my eyes unable to blink. If I looked away for even a millisecond, I was sure this moment wouldn’t last. That he’d walk away and never look back.
He pushed me back against the cool tiles and I sucked on my lower lip, desperate to taste him. He was the most delicious, off-limits thing I’d ever seen. And I needed to explore this urge in me to claim him.
“Or are you too afraid?” I whispered.
“I’m no coward,” he growled and I gasped as he caught my chin and pressed his lips to mine with a groan of need, his mouth moving slow and gentle like he wanted to soothe away every hurt inside me forever. I moaned, digging my nails into the back of his neck and he stopped being precious with me, forcing my lips apart with his tongue and grinding his body into mine so I could feel every inch of his solid shaft. Another moan escaped me but he swallowed it whole, his tongue chasing mine like he’d been hungering for this kiss for as long as I had.
His fingers dug into my arms, almost bruising, but I sensed he was holding back. I imagined he’d mark me everywhere if it wasn’t for the world beyond this room that would destroy him for it. He was the perfect combination of ecstasy and bad decisions. But it didn’t feel wrong like it should have, it felt like my soul was meant for his and his for mine. It felt like my knight in shining armour was meant to fight a war for me and win. We were willing to bleed for one another and I could almost taste his vengeance on his tongue, melding with mine until it became such a powerful energy that the Night Keepers should fear for the formidable force coming their way.
I’d ached for him in my dreams, imagined this kiss a thousand times, never sure if it would be too rough or too sweet. But it turned out, it was both. He was a weapon and a blanket of safety. A king, a god, a leviathan. I wanted the good and the bad, the harsh and the soft. I wanted him and no one else in that moment. Just the one man in this world who stood unshakably at my side and never faltered. I could rely on him for anything, even giving him my heart seemed possible. Something I’d never considered giving any man.
His fingers pushed into my damp hair as he pulled me closer, his hands never straying too far down my body as if there were still barriers between us. I wanted to tear them down, force him to admit to this rampant fire between us and bow to it. But he pulled away as my hands roamed over his muscles and he reached up to touch his swollen lips.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” His throat bobbed and he stepped back, the distance parting us suddenly feeling like a wall as his eyes grew distant.
“Wait,” I rasped, but it was too late. He stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and bundling up his things as he strode from the room without a backwards glance.
I sank down to the base of the shower, the heated water cascading over me. And I wished it could take the pain of my loss with it. Because in my heart, I was sure Monroe would never cross that line again.
Killing zombies on the Xbox was a lot less fun these days. Now that I’d wielded a real life bat against real life assholes determined to infect me, the make-believe shit just fell flat. So while Blake and Saint destroyed the undead, I sat by the fire and sketched.
I had my thumb wedged into a page where I’d mapped out a design for a new tattoo which I was considering inking on my thigh so that I could flip it over if anyone got close enough to look over my shoulder. It was a broken compass with the initials of the Night Keepers in place of the directions, but there was something off about it, something that didn’t fit right and was making me hesitate to place it on my flesh.
That wasn’t what I was drawing now anyway. No. Once again I was sketching the girl who’d looked into my soul and spoken my greatest fears about myself like they were facts.
I never usually bothered drawing anything other than tattoo designs, but since she’d arrived, I’d found images burned into my skull with such intensity that I had to get them out. And the only way I had to do that was in the form of charcoal on paper.
I didn’t often draw around other people. Not that I had any real reason not to, but I preferred to get out of my own head when I was working on a piece and not have the distractions of people talking or moving around to fuck with my concentration.
At the moment, I was torturing myself by drawing Tatum as she’d pressed her hands flat to the dining table and leaned towards me, telling me straight to my face that the only thing I was good for was fooling around with and that no girl would ever love me. Which I had already been aware of, but there’s nothing like someone reaching into your chest and ripping your pathetic excuse for a heart out in front of your only friends in the world to make something stick in your fucking head on repeat.
So as I sketched the deadly look in her eyes and the way her upper lip had pulled back in a sneer of disgust as she looked at me, I couldn’t help but feel my blood heating with my own anger. Because fuck her. Fuck her and her holier than thou bullshit and her fucking honesty and her fucking big blue eyes which glanced my way once and saw me way too clearly.
I’d drawn this fucking thing more times than I could count, trying to banish it, but it wouldn’t go. So fuck her for getting into my head too.
It was tempting to add a speech bubble with the words you’re useless and no one will ever love you in it, but I was pretty sure that superior expression in her eyes and the thinly veiled disgust on her face said it all.
I traced some shadow into her long hair, my jaw grinding as I looked into the eyes which haunted me and I pressed down too hard, snapping the charcoal and ruining the sketch in the process.
I snarled at it, ripping the whole page out of the book, screwing it up in my fist and throwing it at the fire with a curse.
Even though I was sitting right next to the fucking thing, I managed to hit the mantelpiece and the crumpled page bounced back across the floor instead, knocking into Blake’s foot.
He stooped to grab it and I snarled a warning at him which he ignored as he unfolded the paper.
Saint leaned in to get a look too as Blake whistled out a breath.
“You got it bad, huh?” Blake teased.
“Her nose is wrong,” Saint added.
“Thanks for the input I didn’t ask for,” I muttered. “And no, I don’t got it bad. I’m just bored as fuck and you two assholes don’t have tits so you’re not as interesting to draw.”
They clearly didn’t buy that shit for a single second, but they didn’t have time to call me out on it either as the door opened and Tatum walked in. Saint checked the clock like a douchebag and I tucked my sketchbook between my thigh and the side of the couch, wiping the worst of the charcoal from my fingers on my black sweatpants.
“Hey,” Tatum called unenthusiastically from the doorway and none of us replied as we looked between each other in a Mexican standoff while she removed her coat and shoes.
Blake smirked at me as he held my sketch hostage and the way Saint’s eyes slid to Tatum told me exactly what they were going to do.
“Show her then,” I growled, shoving myself to my feet. “Why sh
ould I give a shit anyway? I’ll die alone whatever happens, right?”
I grabbed my sketchbook and stalked away from them and their stupid fucking game. I had somewhere else to be tonight anyway.
Tatum looked at me with wide eyes as I closed in on her, but I only spared her a glance long enough to glower at her before striding past and heading into my room, throwing the door closed behind me with a bang.
It was petulant and kinda pointless but I’d been in a foul mood for weeks now and the last thing I needed was my brothers poking fun at my wounds.
I gripped the edge of my mattress and shoved the sketchbook beneath it with the others. It was a habit I’d gotten into as a child. One time when I was a kid, I’d told my family I wanted to be an artist at this big BBQ my parents were hosting. My grandpa had choked on his whiskey, my uncles had sneered in disgust and my cousins had howled with laughter before my ma told them all I was joking. Later that night she’d thrown my sketches in the trash and told me if I wanted to grow up to be an artist then I could learn to use the walls as my canvas and use blood to paint them. The family trade was the only one I’d be entering and I’d agreed because there was no point in arguing.
Now I guessed I didn’t actually have to hide them. I could do whatever the fuck I wanted. But I kinda liked knowing I was sleeping on top of a hoard of my deepest thoughts and desires. Even when one of them was a grade A bitch who thought I was worse than the shit on her shoe.
I yanked my shirt off with one hand and dropped my pants before heading into the bathroom for a shower.
I scrubbed the charcoal from my hands and washed my hair before getting out and tying it again.
I was still on the hunt for whoever had pulled that corn syrup and tampon prank on us. It had taken me ages to scrub that shit out of my hair and I was happily using the existence of that video to beat the shit out of anyone caught with a copy of it.
If I was being totally honest, I was pretty sure there was only one girl in the school with the balls to do that to us, but I was happy to pretend that wasn’t the case while I used the excuse to terrorise people.
And I didn’t want to be thinking about her anyway.
I had plans tonight. Plans that involved getting wasted on Jack Daniels, beating the shit out of a bunch of assholes and forgetting all about Tatum fucking Rivers.
I dressed in a pair of black jeans and a white wifebeater then sat alone in my room, vaguely doing a bit of math homework as I waited out the evening and avoided the trap waiting for me in the front room. I didn’t really give a fuck about her seeing the sketch, I just didn’t want her thinking that meant I gave a shit about her. I didn’t want her assuming more crap about me. Like she knew every fucking thought in my head with a single cursory glance.
When I heard her laying the dinner out on the table, I headed back out of the room, trying to ignore the fact that I was acting like a moody little bitch. I’d be fine after tonight though. I just needed the rush of the fight to bring me back to myself. To make me get over my shit. It wasn’t like her words had been some great shock to me anyway. It was just unpleasant to hear someone throw your own insecurities in your face.
The smell of some fancy Italian crap filled the room and I dropped into my chair as Tatum began passing out plates. Mine last. Obviously. I grunted a thanks at her because my ma might have been a ruthless bitch who was just as deep into the family business as my uncles, but she’d also taught me to thank someone when they fed you. Under threat of a lashing, sure. But the sentiment of respect was there and it was ingrained deeply enough that not doing it made me uncomfortable. So after a few days of silently taking food from her without a word, it had bothered me enough that I’d started grunting out thanks for it instead. Not that Tatum seemed to have noticed. Her opinion of me at this point was clearly so low that it couldn’t exactly get any lower anyway.
I started shovelling food into my mouth with my fork, long lines of tagliatelle hanging from my lips as I chewed and making Saint curse me. I smirked at him as cream sauce ran over my chin and refused to admit how good the food tasted as I demolished it.
One meal and I was out of here for the night. Tatum was sleeping in with me again later, but that made no difference because as usual, I wouldn’t be there. The couch would suit me just fine. Especially with a nice numbing layer of alcohol to knock me out and a splattering of someone else’s blood on my skin to give me peaceful dreams.
“Father says there’s been an interesting development with the vaccine for the Hades Virus,” Saint announced, taking a sip of his juice as he waited for all of us to look his way.
“Oh yeah?” I asked. A vaccine was exactly what I needed. It would cut my tethers to this place and set me free to ride out and fuck people up in some real fights again. Maybe I’d find myself a nice, dirty Murkwell girl to fuck too and then I could forget all about Tatum Rivers and her platinum pussy which would never be mine.
My gaze shifted to the girl in question and my heart leapt as the look she gave me was filled with sadness instead of venom. Her brow furrowed as if there was something she wanted to say to me, but I turned away again before I could give it too much thought.
“Yeah. It seems like Dr Rivers might have been doing work on a vaccine before he ran. The FBI managed to hack into his laptop even though he tried to destroy it and there’s some evidence that he even manufactured a vaccine which came close to working,” Saint said, watching Tatum carefully to monitor her reaction to this news. She looked utterly fucking shocked so I was willing to bet she had just as little idea about this as she’d had about the rest of Daddy’s illegal hobbies. I guess it would suck to think you had a great parent only to find out he was the world’s biggest psychopath. Over eight hundred thousand people had died from the Hades Virus worldwide now and those numbers were only growing daily.
At least I’d always been fully aware of what my family were. No shocking revelations for me. Just pure, honest, psychopaths to rear me in their image. And I guessed they’d done a good enough job of that.
“If he was working on a vaccine, then maybe he was never planning for people to get sick like this,” Tatum said hopefully.
“Maybe he should have gotten a vaccine that worked before infecting the entire world and letting thousands of innocent people die then,” Blake snarled.
“Point is,” Saint interrupted before Tatum and Blake went for each other’s throats. “It seems like he was at least onto something. The pharmacists in Father’s pockets are all in a race to use this information to formulate a vaccine and it’s looking promising.”
“Well, text me when Daddy Warbucks comes up with the cure,” I said, finishing my food and pushing myself to my feet. “I’m good for the money.” I wasn’t, but fuck it, I’d figure that out later.
“Where are you going?” Saint asked, narrowing his eyes on me.
“Out. I won’t be back until late.”
“It’s your night with Tatum,” Saint insisted. “So you can’t go out.”
“Yeah? And who’s gonna stop me?” I didn’t look at her, but I could feel her gaze digging into my flesh.
“You can do whatever the fuck you want,” Saint said. “But if you’re going out, she’s going with you.”
“She’s not welcome,” I growled.
“Good. I don’t want to go anyway,” she added and I tossed her a sneer before looking back at Saint to finish this showdown.
“It doesn’t matter what the two of you want,” Saint hissed. “It’s your night so she’s going with you. And you’d better look after her or there’ll be hell to pay.”
One look in his soulless eyes told me he wasn’t letting this fucking battle go and I cursed as I gave in. It wasn’t worth the Saint headache anyway.
“Fine,” I snapped, turning my pissed off gaze on Tatum. “We’ll be outside so dress up warm. I’m not finishing up early because you’re feeling chilly.”
She huffed dramatically and stood, heading towards the stairs that led up to Saint’s
room to get her clothes.
“You should pick what she wears,” Saint added.
“I don’t give a shit what she wears,” I snarled. “I have no intention of looking at her any more than I absolutely have to to make sure she’s not getting into any fucking trouble.”
“Fine. I’ll do it then, but you owe me one.” Saint stood and stalked after her to pick her fucking outfit and I flipped him off for his nonsense before glancing at Blake who was smirking like this whole thing had been a show put on for his entertainment.
“Here,” he said, handing over the crumpled sketch which he’d folded carefully.
I snatched it with a grunt which might have been thanks for him not passing it about or might have been me calling him an asshole for taking it in the first place.
“You want a night alone with her or do you want me to come and help you keep an eye on her?” he offered.
“There’s a fight night taking place in the woods,” I explained. “So if you wanna come, you should probably be prepared for a brawl.”
“Sure thing, brother. I’ll get my coat.” Blake strode away from me and I headed back to my room to grab my leather jacket.
It was cold enough out that I needed something thicker really but I intended to warm myself in the blood of my opponents, so I wasn’t going to worry about it.
By the time I made it back to the door, Saint had returned, a happy little smirk on his face which said he’d been up to something. I didn’t even have to ask what as Tatum appeared at the top of the stairs beyond him.
She was wearing a pair of leather pants and a transparent black body suit which hugged her figure, covering her flesh from her neck to her wrists while showing the silhouette of her bra beneath it. Her hair was loose and messed up the way I liked it and her lips were painted blood red to set off the dark eye makeup she’d put on. In short, he’d dressed his dolly up for me. And it pissed me off how much I liked it considering how much she disliked me.
Kings of Lockdown: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep Book 2) Page 30