Angels of Belle Meade

by Lindsey Iler

  She waltzes up to me, places her headphones over my ears, and pushes play on her phone.

  A haunting song begins as she backs away slowly. She twirls on her tiptoes, rhythmically swaying as she removes clothes from her dresser. Watching her makes my mouth water. I hiss as she flicks the button of her shorts. A small sliver of pink lace peeks out for my enjoyment. When she begins to shimmy the denim down her legs, I scoot backward until my back hits the headboard, crossing my legs at the ankles, and relaxing for the show.

  Every sense of mine is on high alert. The smell of Lennox’s perfume on her pillow, surrounding me, is intoxicating. The silky material of her bedding forces a shiver through my body. Copper coats the tip of my tongue, stopping me from lunging in her direction. All the sensations, mixed with the pure beauty in front of me, feel unbearable, like fire wrapped around my bones.

  I swallow the blood as she sways her hips, wearing nothing but a bra and panties, on her way back to me. She pulls the headphones from my ears, silencing the music. Her fingers grip the length of my hair, and the pain of her stern tug brings blood rushing to the surface of my skin.

  “Don’t ever think you have the upper hand.” Lennox leans over, her red-stained lips dangerously close to mine. With a painful jerk, she releases my hair and cringes with disgust, glaring down at me. “You don’t have shit, Edric, and it would do you well to remember that.”

  We'll see about that.

  I swing my legs over the side of the mattress and stand, forcing us chest to chest. “I hope you’re hungry.” Her breathing grows heavy, and I realize Lennox’s torment is my pleasure. I'll do everything in my power to make her squirm whenever we’re in the same room. “Because I’m going to make you eat those words, sweetheart.”

  “Edric.” She wraps her small hand around my forearm, stopping me from leaving. “You better be taking me somewhere good.”

  I grin and tuck the loose ends of her hair behind her ear. “Only the best for Lennox Callahan.”

  Downstairs, I shuffle around the foyer, waiting, desperate to sit across from a girl I know next to nothing about but am eager to figure out. There’s something special about Lennox. The minute I saw her in the forest, I was certain she’d be the kind of girl to chew me up and spit me out. Never one to shy away from a challenge, I followed her along the edge of the forest until I had an opportunity to place myself in front of her.

  Like a rock against a windshield, she shattered me from the first moment of contact.

  I was born to hate her.

  That’s our story.

  My father and her father are enemies, which makes us enemies. When I was young, I remember hearing him speak of his childhood. If asked, he blames the Callahan family for all his shortcomings.

  The thing is, whether I know the truth or not, I believe what I’ve heard. I trust my family. Devotion to the Blackstones is everything. My hatred flows heavily for Lennox’s family, but when her perky lips turn up, and those blue orbs glisten at me, it lessens just enough to matter.

  “And who may you be, young man?” A voice behind me grabs my attention. A well-dressed woman with Lennox’s features steps into the foyer.

  “You must be Lennox’s mom.” I reach out to shake hands.

  She glances between my outstretched hand and my face, but never offers her own. Slowly, I pull mine back, never one to feel inferior.

  I hear a hypnotizing laugh from above and spot Lennox coming down the staircase. When she’s finally by my side, the laughter subsides, and her arm links through mine.

  “She’s hardly a mom.” Lennox doesn’t drop her stare from Mrs. Callahan. “Don’t wait up, Mother.”

  Pulled from the house, I click the remote and stare at Lennox over the top of the hood. “So, your bitchiness isn’t only reserved for me, then?” I joke. “Good to know.”

  Her guard goes up before she pulls the handle and slides inside.

  “Let’s go,” she says, spinning around to check our surroundings.

  I pull out, and a pair of bright headlights come on. A black town car exits behind us. I could have sworn the driveway had been empty.

  “So, your mom seems friendly,” I say, my attention split between her, the rearview mirror, and the road. Who is following us? And better yet, why do they feel the need to?

  “About as friendly as your mom.” She gives me a sidelong glance, clearly annoyed with me. “You searching for a family history or something, Edric?”

  “Kitty has claws, huh, Lennox?” I chuckle, stopping at the stop sign, glancing at her before crossing the intersection, the other car tailing close behind.

  “Why are you so damn adamant on being around me, huh? You clearly think I’m a monster.”

  “Is that what you think? That I think you’re some hideous person?” I shake my head. “Because, Lennox, if that’s what you think, you are dead wrong.”

  “Then what do you think of me? Honestly, because you’re rather persistent, and the shit that just went down in my bedroom . . .”

  “Caused a fog to roll in,” I finish for her.

  “I felt you all over me. Your hand against my stomach. The torture on my thigh. Your lips against my neck. What was that all about?” She grips one hand in the other. The idea she’s struggling to keep her hands to herself is everything I need to know.

  “You have a rather active imagination, Lennox,” I tease.

  Crossing through onto Main Street, the car behind us almost taps the rear bumper. The red light switches to green, and I floor it. Bright lights shine through the passenger window, stealing my vision. Before I can react, before I can warn Lennox, the car is propelled sideways through the intersection.

  Glass shatters, scattering all over the pavement.

  Not a single sound comes from Lennox, and I wonder if she’s still breathing. I reach over and feel for her. A cold, sticky hand grips mine. The bones shake, and I sigh in relief, knowing she’s still with me. The blood I’m meant to hate still courses through her, and I breathe easier knowing just that.

  “Lennox? You okay?”

  “What happened?” she asks, her voice panting.

  As if we’ve both been holding our breath, afraid of what will greet us when we finally acknowledge the wreckage around us, we simultaneously open our eyes and gasp for air. Glass is scattered beside our heads, and the speaker sputters for life.

  “Someone hit us.” At my words, metal from some sort of chain jingles as someone approaches the vehicle.

  A dark figure crouches next to Lennox, glass crunching beneath the stranger’s boot.

  “Call for help,” Lennox begs.

  A rough hand reaches through the broken window and grips her forearm, sliding up her sleeve.

  “Please,” she cries out in pain.

  He drops her arm like he’s been burnt. “Angels with clipped wings can’t fly.”

  Just as quick as he came, he disappears, unnoticed, like I’ve imagined his presence. He might as well have been dust in the wind, fluttering past us.

  Lennox tries to unbuckle her seat belt, and her forehead creases as the entire car shakes like a sink hole is preparing to open up and swallow my SUV.

  Bracing myself, I place one hand on the roof and the other over Lennox’s body. My SUV is forced upright, and it bounces on the tires.

  “Ms. Callahan, are you all right?” A dark haired man bends down and jerks open the dented passenger door.

  “I’m fine, Victor.” Lennox brushes her hands over her skin, inspecting her wounds.

  “And you, Sir?” He checks me and then Lennox.

  She nods, perhaps her way of letting him know it’s okay to care for me.

  Who is this guy, and where did he come from?

  “I’m okay. What about the others?”

  “What others?” Victor’s eyebrows pinch together, confusion marring his features.

  “The car that hit us. The driver has to be hurt, at those speeds,” I explain.

  “There was no car, Sir. You must have hit a
pot hole,” Victor explains, matter of fact.

  That’s not possible. The road was clear when I passed through the intersection. I witnessed the headlights coming toward the passenger door.

  I kick at my door to fully open it. The bent hinge from the roll makes an easy escape nearly impossible. Outside of the car, I spin, searching for the other vehicle.

  What the hell is going on? Does this have something to do with a new reign of Angels?

  Because whoever hit us, meant to.

  The question is, are they after me or Lennox?

  Chapter Ten

  Lennox

  “Victor, I can get out on my own.” I push on his hand and climb outside of the car.

  How did we survive this? Circling around, I take in all the information in front of me. Broken glass. Smashed metal. A lot of blood.

  Edric wipes the sweat from his brow up into his hairline. A cut adorns his temple. The blood makes a slow descent onto his cheek.

  “You okay?” At my question, he dabs the cut and wipes the blood on his jeans.

  “Yeah, I’m good. What about you?” The glass crackles under his shoes as he checks me over.

  When he reaches out to touch my blood-soaked sleeves, Victor pulls me away.

  “I’ll check out those cuts,” Victor explains, rolling the tension from his shoulders. He glares over at Edric. “Maybe you should call someone to come pick you up.”

  “What about . . .” Edric gestures to the mess.

  “It will all be handled.” Victor grips my bicep and ushers me to the sidewalk, a safe distance away from Edric’s prying ears.

  Victor doesn’t need to say a single word for me to understand something needs to stay hidden.

  “Your cuts,” Victor says.

  “Yeah, I know.” I pull up my sleeves and brush my hands over my forearms. There’s nothing there. Will there ever be a time when this doesn’t surprise me?

  “You’re untouchable, Lennox,” Victor says.

  In the distance, a siren alerts us of incoming paramedics.

  “Meaning if Edric checks my arms, he’d see blood but no sign of injury. We need to get out of here, don’t we?”

  “Let me do the talking. If we abandon Edric, he’ll know something is going on.” Victor walks in front of me, shielding me.

  A crowd has gathered at the scene, and their whispers reach me. Single car accident. No source of impact. A girl with no marks. A boy without a single bruise. Everyone is pushing to inspect the damage, and suddenly, I’m under a magnifying glass.

  “They’re all watching,” I murmur.

  Victor’s shoulders are stiff and regal, forcing the assembled to take notice.

  “Everyone.” Victor raises his hand, silencing the crowd. “Please return to your vehicles. There’s nothing to see here.”

  As if forced, every person leaves, the sudden quiet eerie.

  “Did you just . . .” I shake my head, unsure of what I have witnessed. Disbelief floods all my senses. Am I capable of doing that, compelling someone to do what I say? “Uh, what was . . .”

  With a sly but sweet smile, Victor winks, answering my question. “Don’t let me believe you’re vain enough to think you’re the only special one in town.”

  Over Victor’s shoulder, I spot Edric bent down, collecting papers and other things from the middle of the road.

  Victor follows my stare and shrugs. “And now to deal with him.”

  As we approach, Edric straightens to his full height.

  “You still feeling all right, Lennox?” Edric reaches for me.

  Victor pulls me back, tucking me into his side as if he’s afraid Edric will hurt me.

  “Okay, then.” Edric’s brow furrows.

  Sirens grab his attention, and I roll my eyes at Victor, being sure Edric doesn’t notice my clear disdain for Victor. I don’t need protecting.

  “Edric,” Victor says. “When they show up, you won’t remember what happened. You drove through the intersection, and that’s the last thing you remember.”

  “But that isn’t the last thing I remember. We drove through the intersection, and headlights came straight for Lennox’s door.” Edric runs his fingers through his long tendrils. His frustration for what happened causes my heart to soar. All this time I thought we were nothing, but maybe there’s more there. “Why would I need to lie about something like that, Victor?”

  Victor’s eyebrows scrunch together, and his pupils dilate. “Okay,” he relents, taking a step back. Victor pulls on my arm as the medics show up. “We need to get to the paramedics first.”

  “Why?” I ask, glancing between Edric, who goes back to picking up his things, and Victor, who can’t keep his eyes off Edric, like he’s afraid to lose sight of him.

  “I can’t compel him, Lennox.” Victor ushers me over to the first ambulance, a heavy hand on my back to hurry me along.

  “Is everyone all right?” the paramedic asks. He’s young, fresh-eyed, and compassionate.

  “Please wrap her left arm from wrist to elbow,” Victor commands.

  The paramedic does as he says, making quick work of the fabric. He rubs his eyes every few seconds and blinks a lot. It’s obvious he doesn’t understand what he’s doing.

  Is it like this for everyone who’s stuck under a compulsion?

  “Keep the wrap on for a few days. The cuts are superficial and should heal nicely,” the paramedic explains, his voice robotic.

  “Now, please attend to our friend,” Victors says, shifting to the side to reveal Edric.

  Halfway through Edric’s examinations, a tow truck shows up to pick up what’s left of the heap of metal. When it’s obvious neither of us need extensive medical attention, the paramedics leave.

  “Lennox, I’ll drive you home,” Victor says, matter of fact, as if there’s no chance in hell I’m leaving with Edric. His protectiveness is admirable, but unnecessary.

  “Victor, I have every intention of finishing my evening with Lennox.” Edric comes up beside me, wraps a protective arm around my waist, and tugs me close. “If that’s all right with you.” It isn’t a question; it’s a demand.

  “And how do you presume to assure me Lennox will arrive home safely?” Victor makes a production of spinning around with his arms out wide at his sides. “You have no way of transportation.”

  Victor’s won. He knows it, and he chuckles just low enough to dig underneath a level-headed person’s skin.

  Edric smiles, pulling a black key from his pocket and makes a show of pushing a button. Lights blink beside us, and the doors click unlocked.

  “We’re all set here, Victor.” Edric reaches out his hand in some strange offering. “Have a good evening.”

  After a short stand-off, Victor crosses the battle line and shakes Edric’s hand.

  “Lennox, you know where I’ll be if you need me.” Victor nods and leaves us alone in the middle of scattered, broken glass.

  Two things I know for sure at this point. The first is a mess of secrets litter this town, and the second is I’m walking beside one of those secrets, preparing to finish our date.

  Is this even a date? Do I want it to be a date?

  Dating is normal. A little normalcy may not kill me right now.

  “If you’re wondering, this is a date.” Edric chuckles.

  A sharp chill runs up my arm when his finger skims over my hand. If I were to peer beside me, I’d be greeted with his signature pouty lips and find myself at a puddle at his feet. His charisma is powerful, and for a little while longer, I’d like to feel in control.

  “I wasn’t wondering,” I lie.

  “Sure you were, Little Wicked.”

  We stop in front of the Italian Bistro that’s celebrating its grand opening.

  “Little Wicked, huh?” My hand brushes low on his stomach as I pass him to enter, our lips nearly dancing with each other. Thank goodness for the high heels I slipped on before we left, leaving the flats for another day.

  “It fits, doesn’t it?” He be
nds down and whispers in my ear. “Did it make you feel alive when I called you it? Maybe bubbled up a part of you, you never expected to feel?”

  “You have no idea how wicked I can be,” I challenge.

  “I have every intention of finding out.” With his hand low on my back, he tells the hostess we are in need of a private table.

  Once alone, tucked into the small confines of the private room, I take a minute to breathe. Maybe I’ve been holding my breath since the accident, or maybe Edric steals the air straight from my lungs. Whatever it is, I’m finally feeling the harshness of my evening.

  “You’re shaking,” Edric says, pulling out my chair and sitting across from me once I’m comfortable.

  “I think the adrenaline is wearing off.” I draw the navy-blue cloth napkin across my thighs and place my hands in my lap in the precise manner my mother has always urged. Sometimes I still hear her instructions, even when she isn’t present. At the thought, I crumple the fabric and rest my elbows on the table in spite. If only Mother could see me now.

  “Did you see the headlights, Lennox?” Edric takes a slow sip of water, drawing attention to his full lips.

  “I don’t know what I saw,” I lie.

  I did see the headlights. Their brightness pulled me toward them, like air through a tunnel with one way in and one way out. My brain didn’t have enough time to process what was happening before I felt the impact.

  “You’re lying, Lennox Callahan, and do you want to know how I know you’re lying?” His eyes hold a glimmer of purpose, challenging me, and his arms cross over his chest. “Because your throat”—he leans forward and grazes the rough pad of his finger against my neck—“bobs up and down when you’re trying to keep a secret.”

  “No, it does not.” I sit back, escaping his touch, a touch I’ve never asked for, but also one I’m desperate to feel again.

  “It sure does, Little Wicked.” His grin grows wide with excitement.

  He thinks he has me right where he wants me, but he has no idea the hell I’m capable of bringing down on him.

  “You’re going to make that nickname stick, aren’t you?” My voice is whiny, and I don’t like it.