Glass Heart Savage: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Glass Heart Academy Book 1)

by Lindsey Iler

  “I plan to.” Marek bites and nips the sensitive skin of my earlobe.

  My dress is lifted, and my panties are ripped. The sound of his zipper being lowered is deafening. Marek bends, circling his arms around me and lifting me towards the sky. I’m a glutton for punishment, wrapping my legs around his waist, bringing our bodies closer.

  In an instant, Marek is buried inside of me, drilling me against the tree. There’s no other way to describe his animalistic movements. My hands clench at his back as he fucks me until stars dance in my eyes. He doesn’t gaze at me lovingly, like he would defend everything and anyone stupid enough to break through my walls. No, this isn’t what it is. Nature vs. reality.

  I shouldn’t want this, but I hold on, riding the wave of pleasure only Marek has been able to create and replicate, time and time again.

  “I said do your worst,” I whisper, easing my lips to the skin below his ear, alternating between small pecks and brutal nibbles. “This is too sweet for someone like you, Marek. Show me what it means to be with the king of Glass Heart Academy. Give me the same treatment you’ve given all the other girls.”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Palmer.”

  “Take off your mask and show me who you are. The real you. You’ve been holding out on me. For what? Because you were in love with my sister?”

  At the mention of Reed, his body tightens, and he takes something out of his back pocket. The silver handle shines. A blade flips out of the end, and he presses it to my throat hard enough to cause my blood to pump harder, but not enough to cut me.

  “There he is. The truth,” I whisper, trying not to move. Marek applies a little more pressure, pleased with himself. “Is it Reed? She’s what turns you into this psychotic piece of shit? Did she give you permission to become this horrible version of a man?” Ever since he’d told me the truth, visions of Marek and my sister can’t escape my mind. The two of them loving each other feels like a betrayal. That’s a mess of dirty laundry I plan to keep tucked away.

  “Shut the fuck up!” he shouts.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” I turn my head away, and he adjusts the knife so I don’t slit my throat.

  Our chests rise and fall in rhythm, a fucked up song only he and I know the words to.

  “Shut the fuck up, Palmer, and be a good little girl like the rest of them and take this like a happy pill.” He morphs the glare on his face to a smirk. “You and I both know, regular will never work anymore. Simple vanilla won’t make your blood boil under your skin, won’t send a shock wave straight to your perfect little pussy.” He drops the blade, replacing the sharp edge with the tight hold of his hand. “Not like this will.”

  Marek’s harsh movements catch me off guard. There’s nothing gentle about him. Abrasive drives and quick thrusts take over my senses. The fabric of my dress rips and tears from the pressure against my back, beads and sequins falling to the ground like mirrors, shining the harsh truth at us. Wicked always wins, and Marek is as wicked as they come. He just hides it better than the others.

  His grip tightens on my throat, and at first, I can’t deny the way it makes me feel. A mix of pleasure and pain, fear and lust, has my hand reaching up to grab the branch above me, suspending my body between us.

  “You’re never going to break,” Marek whispers, tilting his head to the side and closing the space between our lips. “Are you?” His breath on my cheek is like a cool breeze on a summer day, subduing me.

  I wrap my other hand around his wrist, squeezing his flesh and muscle as hard as I can, tightening his hold even harder around my throat.

  “Weston girls don’t break, Marek.” My words are slow and strained through the hold on my neck. “But go ahead and keep trying.”

  His lips crash against mine, owning my body and soul. Whatever these boys are doing, whatever fuels their hatred for me, I’m certain Marek’s is overrun by his attraction to me. Whether it’s physical, or runs deeper than that, I’m not sure. I’m certain of only one thing. Marek is hard, and my feelings for him are harder.

  “You taste like sin and sunshine,” Marek whispers between our lips. His hand releases the tight hold on my throat. Red smeared over his skin frightens me. I brush my fingers over my neck and find blood.

  Marek takes his time, slowly pumping in and out of me. Our time at the mountain house had had a certain kind of finality. I would have lived happily with the way we’d ended things, but right now, this moment, me scared and us alone in the woods, this seems more like us than anything I’ve ever known.

  When he’s finished, he lowers my feet to the ground and kisses me one last time.

  “Run, Palmer. Now. Don’t look back.”

  ******

  I’m lost.

  Everything around me seems familiar. Leaves and broken branches start to look like each other. My sense of direction is completely gone. I stop at a tree, resting my hand on the trunk to catch my breath. The wind whipping through the woods has me paranoid. A monster nips at my heels, so stopping isn’t the smartest thing to do. With a deep breath, I push on, hoping to find the edge of the woods.

  Thirsty and scared aren’t good enough reasons to stop running, while the urge to give up, surrender to whoever is chasing me, almost breaks me. With nearly frostbitten feet, I push forward. Although, dying from the elements would be a far happier ending than whatever the boys have planned.

  A cold brush of wind steals my breath. I stop again, almost positive I see light up ahead. Is this my freedom, or is my mind playing tricks on me? I stumble forward, giving my lungs a break until I finally reach the edge of the woods.

  I check my surroundings and find the coast clear. I dance through the shadows, staying close to the darkness, hidden from those who are out to get me.

  To say Marek confuses me would be an understatement. At first, I’d thought he was in the woods to erase me like a bad memory. But in the end, he’d seemed desperate for me to get away, giving me one last chance to survive whatever this is.

  “Oh, Palmer,” Byron singsongs from somewhere close. “Palmer Weston, where are you? Where could you be hiding?” Every word is manic, shaky, but not out of fear. Something far worse hides behind his voice. Desperation.

  I duck behind the sign at the front entrance of Glass Heart Academy. Braving a quick look around, I see Dixon and Byron surveying the grounds. They seem to be the ones in control. Behind them, Breaker is whispering something to Marek.

  “Come on, baby girl!” Byron shouts. “We just want to talk to you, is all.”

  They killed my sister. I’m certain of it. Why else would they be doing this? There’s no other explanation. I’ve tried to think of a number of reasonable excuses, and I always come up shorthanded.

  I step out in the open, too tired to run, and beyond tired of hiding. This isn’t me laying down and giving up. Wondering when my time will come has manifested into a strength to face a world that has proven it’s working against me. “You want to talk, then talk.”

  “Oh, there she is.” Dixon circles, his mask in place. His eyes aren’t forgiving, pinning me to my spot. He takes long strides to me, not touching me, but close enough to have me on edge and watching his every move. “What should we do to her now? Looks like Marek’s already had a little fun.” His finger feathers my neck where I know there are the remnants of blood.

  Byron rushes forward. Breaker throws his arm out, blocking Marek from taking a step towards me. If this is my fate, to be torn down by four boys with too much power, then so be it. What I won’t give them is the satisfaction of making me seem weak or unable to handle myself.

  I swallow the lump in my throat and straighten my spine, drawing Marek’s attention to me. If he’s not going to stop them, then he gets the pleasure of watching the life drain from my eyes.

  “You were never worthy of my sister, Byron,” I say, knowing damn well I’m poking the bear but not caring enough not to. “She was everything right in the world. Kind. Generous. Thoughtful. You are none of th
ose things. Whoever took her out of this life did her a favor, if it meant she got away from you.”

  “Grab her,” Byron demands, pointing at Dixon.

  “Or maybe it was you.” My eyes shift between all of them. I’m ready to spill the secret capable of ruining them. “Lovers’ quarrel turned bad? Too much jealousy?”

  Dixon’s arms wrap around my waist. Stupid move. If he thinks I’m a female that hasn’t taken some sort of self-defense, he’s dumber than I’d thought. I reach up, pressing the pads of my thumbs into his eyeballs. He winces and throws me to the ground. Hard. With a loud thud, my back hits the cement, and piercing, angry pain runs through my body.

  I roll onto my side, wishing the throb away, but it never leaves. A boot connects to my stomach, and I’m lifted from the cold ground, held up on display.

  “Don’t do that again, sweetheart, or else I’ll break your ribs next time.” Dixon glares at me.

  “I never did like you.” I spit in Dixon’s face, forcing him to drop me. This time, I get decent footing and start running.

  Four sets of feet pound behind me. Marek should be able to catch me. He’s quick and able to outsmart me, but he never comes. I run along the backside of campus, spotting the bonfire still in full flare. Students mill about the area, but screaming is pointless. They won’t hear me, and even if they do, with the guys chasing me, no one would do anything to help me.

  I head straight to the cafeteria, remembering the back entrance is always unlocked. The door flies open and slams behind me. Hiding isn’t an option. They’ll find me down here. The back stairwell is the safest bet. The building used to be the auditorium, and they’ve never removed the catwalk, the perfect place to hide in the darkness.

  As I reach the metal walkway, the door opens again and slams shortly after. I’m running out of time. Their dark shadows dance below me, searching beneath every table and inside every booth. Marek follows the lines on the walls, up the beams placed several years ago. I press against the wall, afraid he’s seen me.

  “Where the fuck is she?” Byron spins around as Marek drops his eyes from the ceiling, but it’s far too late.

  Byron pushes past him, heading straight for the stairs. His footsteps are closing in on me. There’s no time. I take large, quiet steps, but metal isn’t forgiving, creaking and screeching each time my foot lands.

  “She’s on the catwalk!” Dixon yells.

  Fuck! I hurry across, remembering a second way to the main floor. I reach the end, and Byron’s head pops over the railing. His dark, sinister glare burns straight to my soul, sucking the life from my lungs.

  Shiny metal catches my eye, a second before I trip on the lip of the step and fall. I’m pulled backwards by my ankle. Byron brandishes the knife in my face.

  “Do it,” I goad him. “Kill me just like you killed her.”

  “It didn’t have to be this way,” Byron says, lifting the knife and stabbing me in the side.

  Adrenaline cycles through my body, masking the initial pain. I cover the wound, lifting my hand long enough to see the damage. Blood seeps through my dress, and I reapply pressure. Dizziness creeps in, and the scent of copper infiltrates my senses, making my stomach churn.

  I struggle to my feet, and Byron slashes at my calf, making it almost impossible to get away.

  “Fight,” I whisper. I reach two doors, and choosing the one on the right, I walk out onto the roof.

  “Wrong one, sweetheart!” Byron yells, the metal door slamming behind him. He rubs the blood-coated blade over the chest of his shirt, cleaning off the evidence of his evil. “Now what are you going to do?”

  Dixon walks out on the roof and does a double-take.

  “Jesus,” he whispers, seeing me pressing my hand to my stomach and limping as far away as I can. Remorse etches every feature of his face.

  Seems this isn’t part of the plan.

  “Like I said, it didn’t have to be like this, but sometimes evil stops evil, and I will do everything I have to do to right what happened,” Byron barks, closing in on me. “Grab her other side.”

  Everything he says and does is lost inside my brain, hidden way beneath the fog my blood loss has created. Dixon holds my hands to my sides, exposing the wound Byron’s blade created.

  “I’ll die, Dixon.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m going to die.”

  The back of Byron’s hand smacks my cheek. Blood pools around my tongue, and I spit it straight at his face, earning me another blow.

  Breaker is the next to join us. When he notices me, beaten and broken, he grapples with the door, trying to keep someone inside. In the end, Marek’s too strong for him, pushing past Breaker’s weak barrier.

  “No, no, no.” Marek stalks forward.

  “You see, I knew this was going to be a problem.” Byron waves the knife between Marek and me. “I knew immediately that you’d slither into his chest and make yourself comfortable. Just like your sister did with me. He’d never be able to start what needed to be done.” He circles the metal blade in front of my face. “Not that he didn’t try, because he did, Palmer, you need to know that. Even right now, he’s struggling. He wants to run to you, save you, but he and I both know that’s not possible. When it comes to her, I’ll always choose her. Even over all of them.”

  The knife stabs into my thigh. He pulls it out. Cold heat takes over my body. I fall backwards towards the snow-covered roof, swallowing the blood already making its way up my throat. The hard surface of the roof never greets me. Instead, I fall towards a dark oblivion, ready to swallow me whole.

  Until a hand grasps around my arm and suspends me between reality and the black abyss waiting to suck me in.

  Chaos and violence surround me, taking every last breath in my lungs.

  Except one.

  The last one is held until icy blue eyes find me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marek

  I watch the heart rate monitor, making sure it’s bouncing up and down. Constant and consistent. This is the only true proof she’s still alive. Her skin is ashen, lifeless, torturing me as I wait for any movement. If she could just squeeze my hand, tell me she’s still in there, only then would I be able to take the breath I’ve been needing since I saw Byron holding the knife to her skin.

  Beyond the curtains, the night sky is dark, clouds dancing around the moon, casting our world in shadows. I sit forward, watching her chest rise and fall, memories from tonight circulating through my mind. The blood on the snow-covered roof. The pure fear in Palmer’s eyes as she fell backwards. The wave of relief when I got to her in time. When my hand wrapped around her arm. Her fighting, harnessing what little energy she had left, to grip my forearm. The world could have split right in half, and I wouldn’t have noticed.

  We held our breath together, feeling the end closing in on us.

  Anything beyond her doesn’t matter.

  “I almost lost you,” I whisper as I swipe her hair way from her face.

  “Here.” Breaker steps into the hospital room, offering me a cup of coffee. I take it, barely able to stay awake. “How is she?”

  “Still asleep,” I say, taking a sip of the piping hot liquid, then setting the cup on the table next to her bed. “Surgery went well. He got her deep on her stomach.”

  Once I had Palmer in my arms, I applied pressure to the worst of her wounds. Breaker called 911. He didn’t give an explanation, only the easy facts. A girl had been attacked and had several knife wounds.

  “It wasn’t a good idea,” Breaker admits, taking the seat across from me. He speaks offhandedly, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from losing the small amount of control I’ve gained since holding her hand after her surgery. He watches her, sorrow and worry crossing over his usual stoic face. “I see that now, and I didn’t think he’d come as unglued as he did.”

  “If she doesn’t wake up, I don’t know what I’ll do.” I lower my head, the heaviness too much to hold any sense of strength in my body.

 
; “We won’t do anything.” Byron’s voice startles us both. He’s the last person I expect to see in the doorway, in this room, with Palmer. “Because she’s going to wake up. She has to.”

  How he musters up the desperation in his voice is a fucking talent. He’s done this. He stabbed her, making the choice to take our plan to a level it was never meant to be.

  Palmer’s heart monitor speeds up. I stand and squeeze her hand, running my thumb over her skin. Does she sense Byron in the room? Can she hear the voice attached to the hatred that landed her in this bed?

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Byron’s useless excuses don’t mean shit right now. He’s not someone capable of remorse or guilt.

  “Get out!” I yell, pushing my chair out of the way to shove his body further from hers, to finally protect her as I should have all along. “Now.” I slam my hands into his chest, forcing him backwards. He looks betrayed and confused at my aggression.

  Breaker steps between us, gripping Byron’s shirt and helping him out of the room. When he’s gone, I close the door and settle back in next to her. Once he’s back, Breaker scrutinizes me, a curious squint to his eyes. I don’t justify his thoughts with an unwanted response. Instead, I watch her eyelids, praying I’ll see the life in them again.

  Nurses and doctors frequent the room. None ask us to leave, accepting our existence without an argument. We aren’t family. We aren’t supposed to be back here, but it seems we are the only ones here for her now.

  “No one should be alone,” one of the nurses says. “We haven’t been able to reach any of her family.” She offers me a settling pat to the shoulder before leaving.

  Of course, you haven’t. They’re worthless.

  How did we get here? At what point did everything turn south? Since the beginning, Byron has been dead set on clawing his way to revenge. He’s not the only guilty party. I was thrilled at the prospect of finding out who was responsible for Reed’s murder.