Bury Me (Willow Heights Prep Academy: The Elite Book 3)

by Selena

  “I didn’t know that,” I mutter, feeling stupidly jealous and hurt that Devlin didn’t tell me that.

  “Devlin doesn’t like people remembering that,” he says with a shrug. “Not that he’s got anything to be ashamed of. I’m the bastard child.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “But out of the three of you, I think Preston’s the fucked up one. Everyone loves you.”

  “They do, don’t they?” Colt says, tossing his hair out of his eyes and grinning. “But trust me, Preston is the golden boy in the family. He’s just like his dad, and his old man’s just like Grampa Darling. You know, the guy’s literally gotten away with murder. He can do no wrong.”

  “The guy at the construction site,” I say, my heart picking up speed.

  “Nah,” Colt says, waving a hand as if that’s nothing. “But your family’s going to try to make it look that way, aren’t they? Because he tried to take the property out from under your dad. That’s why they framed him, right? And when they see that he was tried for murder before… I mean, he might have been acquitted, and they’ll tell the jurors not to take that into account, but they will.”

  I’m not touching that topic. But this guy is no fuck-up. He’s too smart for his own good.

  “I’m not the girl, Colt,” I say, closing my locker. Time to close this conversation, too. “Not for you. There’s a girl out there who’s dying to be with you. Dixie worships the ground you walk on. That’s what you deserve. Not someone whose heart is already taken.”

  “I know,” he says. “It’s kinda fucked up I even asked you.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “It kinda is.”

  I open my bag and pull out one of the necklaces, but Colt holds up a hand. “Keep it,” he says. “I meant what I said. You’re the only girl who deserves it. You took us all by surprise.”

  “You know my family won’t let me wear it,” I say.

  “Even if they would, Devlin wouldn’t,” he says. “I’m surprised he didn’t rip it off you.”

  I swallow again, trying to quell the ache in my throat at the mention of his name. I wonder when I’ll stop wanting to cry at the thought of him. I force a chuckle, even though it twists in my gut like a knife. “He’s pretty possessive, isn’t he?”

  Colt laughs at that. “You do bring out his crazy side.”

  “You going to class?” I ask, nodding in that direction.

  “Nah,” he says. “I think I’ll go sit on the bleachers and lick my wounds. Join me if you change your mind? I’ve got a medical card and the goods to make you forget your troubles.”

  “Thanks,” I say. The thought of sitting out on the wet bleachers in the chilly December sun sounds a thousand times better than going to class. I know that Colt would make me laugh, even if he’s not laughing on the inside. Getting high would lessen the ache for a minute. I know it would be easy and fun to flirt with him, and it would take my mind off Devlin. But I also know I need to stop all of this now, the way I should have a long time ago. I’m not just losing Devlin. I’m losing Colt and even Preston.

  But like King said, this is how it has to be. This is what a Dolce does. This is what we get. Family. Money. Status. Power.

  It should be enough. That’s what everyone wants, what they work their whole lives to achieve. Most people are happy if they have even one of those things. We have it all.

  And I’d trade it all in a second.

  *

  I can’t bear the thought of the cafeteria at lunch. Yes, I’m a coward. I don’t want to see Devlin, but it’s more than that. I don’t want to see the other girls staring at me, trying to figure out what I have that they don’t. I don’t want the attention, the jealousy, the curiosity, or even the admiration. I just want to be some nameless, faceless girl in the crowd like Mabel. How has she achieved this magic?

  I shoot the girls a text and head out to the football field, minus the invitation from Colt. It seems as good a place as any. As I walk across the dead grass under the flat grey sky, I can’t help but think it’s a fitting atmosphere. I don’t know if either of the girls are speaking to me anymore, and I can’t really blame them if they aren’t. Guess I’m about to find out.

  I sit on the wet metal bleachers in the damp air and wait. When my friends appear, an odd pair of cousins walking side by side, Dolly in one of her Barbie-pink outfits and Dixie in her goth get-up, I can’t help but smile. But the relief is quickly overshadowed by nerves. What if they’re coming to tell me we can’t be friends? I know exactly how quickly the tables can turn. One day I’m the Darlings’ favorite; the next I’m friendless and alone.

  “The weather is your friend today,” Dolly says, clambering up onto the bleachers in her impossible heels and dropping down beside me.

  “How’s that?” I’m too cautious to hope for anything, even hearing her normal tone.

  “It looks like it’s gonna rain real soon,” she says, scooting down to make room for Dixie. “At least it’s cooperating enough for you to hide during lunch.”

  “That obvious?” I ask.

  “I don’t blame you,” she says. “This school is cannibalistic.”

  “Are you mad at me?” I blurt out, looking from her to Dixie, who hasn’t said a word.

  “I was gonna be,” she says. “If you were hiding from us.”

  “Why would I hide from you?”

  “You skipped science this morning,” she points out. “But since you texted about lunch, I’ll let it slide.”

  “Thanks,” I say, swallowing hard before turning to Dixie. “And you?”

  “No,” she says, sounding as dejected as the morning after our shame. “He’s not my boyfriend. Why should I be mad?”

  “For that matter, why would I be?” Dolly asks.

  “I know you like them,” I say. “You have a right to be mad.”

  “You didn’t do anything,” Dolly says. “You didn’t ask for the necklaces, did you?”

  “No,” I concede. “But still.”

  “They said they were doing away with the Dog, but they forgot to get the collar and ears back,” Dixie says.

  “You said you wanted to keep them,” I remind her.

  “He didn’t even look at me,” she says. “I think they forgot I was even there.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I know how much you like him. But I promise I don’t. Not in that way.”

  “I know,” she says. “I just don’t get it. How do you get all those guys to like you? Both of you? I mean, besides being hot, is there any other way?”

  “Lots of girls are pretty,” I say. “It’s about more than that. It’s about how you carry yourself. And thinking you deserve it.”

  “You think you deserve all three of them?” she asks, her eyes widening.

  “No,” I say, laughing. It’s hard to say something good about myself, the same way it probably is for any girl to say she deserves the best. In some way, we’re all conditioned to take less, to be quiet and demure and perfectly poised like a good Dolce daughter.

  But fuck that. Maybe it’s time I took something for myself. Time I admitted that I’m worthy. That I’m good enough. That I deserve Devlin.

  twenty-one

  Crystal

  Tonight I thought I had it. It seemed so simple. That I would take what I deserved. It doesn’t matter what I deserve, though. I can’t run away from who I am anymore. I’m part of this, whether I like it or not. I was born into my family, and this is how it works. If I take what I want, my family will take it away from me. If I fight back, they’ll defeat me. If I stand up for what’s right, they’ll make me believe I’m wrong. There’s no way to win and be a Dolce at the same time.

  I wake to the sound of my window sliding up. I scramble upright in my bed, reaching for the lamp with trembling fingers. My heart is racing as I turn to see Devlin standing inside my room, dripping wet from the rain that seems to take the place of snow as winter precipitation in this state.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss. ‘You can’t be here.”
<
br />   He stares at me a second, raindrops running down his cheeks like tears. “Why are you avoiding me?” he asks.

  “I told you yesterday,” I whisper-shout at him. “It’s over, Devlin. We have to stop this before one of us gets really hurt.”

  I know it’s not me who will be hurt, but if he’s anything like me, he’d risk himself before he’d risk me.

  “It’s too late for that,” he says. “You can break up with me if it makes you feel better, but it won’t change anything. Boyfriend is just a word. I’m your man, and I don’t need a label to prove it.”

  “Devlin,” I whisper, an ache rising in my throat. “Please.”

  He stands there dripping onto the hardwood floor, soaked through and shivering with cold, but his words are strong and sure. “You’re my girl, Crystal. I’ve known that for a while, but what I didn’t realize until you tried to break me is that I’m yours, too. Whatever forces brought up together, even if it was some asshole who shouldn’t be messing in our lives, it doesn’t change what we have now. I’m sorry I did the things I did to you, including what he ordered. If I could take them back, I’d take back every damn one.”

  “But you can’t,” I say, tears pressing behind my eyes.

  “No,” he says. “But I can make it up to you for them.”

  “You can’t do that, either,” I say. “We can’t be together, Devlin.”

  “You’re wrong,” he says, closing the distance between us. He sinks onto the edge of the bed, draws my chin up, and delivers a lingering kiss to my trembling lips. I should push him away, but I can’t make myself. I’m as weak as love makes me, and I want him too much. My hand curls into a fist in the wet fabric of his t-shirt, dragging him closer, warming his cold lips with my hot ones.

  “Tell me you don’t still want me,” he whispers, cupping my cheek in his palm. “And I’ll tell you that you’re lying.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say, choking back tears.

  “You’re right,” he says. “It doesn’t matter if you forgive me or love me or want me. Because I’ll spend every moment for the rest of my life making that happen. Proving to you that I need you. That I love you. That this is real.”

  “What if I can never believe you?” I ask, a tear spilling over my lashes.

  Devlin gently wipes it away with his thumb, cradling my face between his hands. “Then I’ll still spend every day of my life trying to earn your trust and respect, and if it fails, and you never love me again, at least I’ll know my life’s work was something worthwhile—making the woman I love feel loved, and worthy, and as treasured as she is.”

  More tears trickle down my cheeks, and Devlin leans in to kiss them. When they don’t stop, he pulls me into his arms. I feel the strength of his body, of his words that are truth, and I can’t help but melt into his arms. I believe him already. I love him already. There’s no going back, no matter how badly he hurt me, no matter how wrong it is. I can’t stop myself even if I try. And I tried so hard.

  Now, it feels so good to stop trying to hate him. I wrap my arms around him, burying my face against his strong chest and sobbing. Devlin holds me. He strokes my hair and kisses the top of my head, and he just holds me. When the tears stop, I don’t want to look up. I’m terrified that it’s all going to slip away again. But he pries me from him and lifts my face, kissing my damp, salty lips.

  His blue eyes are soft as the warm waters of the Caribbean as he gazes down at me. “I’m never giving up on you, Crystal,” he says. “You can hurt me ten times what you did. You can do it every day, and it won’t matter. I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you of that. I’ll die for you before I let you go.”

  I shake my head, more tears coming. “You will die, Devlin. My family will kill you. You were right about them. You were right all along, even when I didn’t know it, didn’t believe it. I didn’t want to know it. But they’re not good people. I knew I was rotten, but it’s not just me. We’re all rotten, every one of us.”

  “Crystal,” he says, his voice pained. “You’re not rotten. Believe me, I know rotten. I’ve got plenty of it in my own family. And you, Sugar, are the least rotten person I know.”

  “I’m not,” I say, shaking my head. “I did just as bad as you.”

  “You had every reason,” he says, stroking my wet cheeks with his thumbs.

  I shake my head. “I had no right to get mad at you for your grampa setting me up. Especially since… I did something pretty bad to you, too. Something my grandma told me to do.”

  “What’s that, Sugar?” he asks. “What’d you do that could possibly be worse than all I did to you?”

  I don’t want to tell him, but in a way, I do. If I tell him, he’ll go running, and he won’t be in danger anymore.

  “Remember that day when I brought you coffee?” I ask, swallowing hard.

  “Yeah,” he says. “It was the first time I thought maybe you cared about more than my dick.”

  Great. Now I feel even worse. I let out a breath before going on. “I kind of… Put a drop of blood in it.”

  I want to drop my eyes, to turn away and hide my face. But I force myself to watch his reaction. His eyes darken, smoldering with intensity and lust. “That’s kinda crazy,” he says, sliding an arm around my back and leaning closer. “But hot.”

  “It wasn’t just any blood,” I whisper. “It was… Period blood.”

  Devlin blinks a few times, just staring at me. “Why?” he asks at last.

  I can’t bear it anymore. I turn away and throw myself flat on my bed, pulling a pillow over my face. “Because my grandma told me it would make you fall in love,” I admit, my voice muffled. “You can go now. I told you I was disgusting.”

  After a minute, I feel Devlin shift on the bed. He pulls the pillow off my face and leans on one elbow, smirking down at me. “Crystal,” he says. “I went down on you in the shower when you were still bleeding. Do you really think that’s going to scare me away?”

  “But I made you fall in love with me just so I could hurt you,” I whisper, my heart beating hard at his nearness. I can feel the heat of him through his soaked shirt, can smell his skin, his hair, the scent making my head spin with desire. I want to reach out and wrap my arms around him, to take it all back and start all over, so neither of us hurt each other.

  “Crystal, it wasn’t your blood that made me fall in love,” he says, pushing his hips against me in the bed. “If anything about that coffee made me fall for you, it was thinking you did something nice for me. I fell for you because you’re tough without being a bitch, you never lost your cool even when I was being an absolute monster to you, and maybe a little bit because you dress like my grandmother and then get all freaky when I start fucking you.” He leans forward, smiling as his lips meet mine.

  “I don’t dress like a grandma,” I start, but I melt as his lips dip to my throat. He pushes his body against mine, his tongue caressing my skin, tasting me. He sucks and bites, his hot breath against my neck making me squirm. Warm tingles race over my skin, the heat of my need building between my legs as his mouth moves up my neck, his teeth teasing my earlobe.

  “Can I do it again?” he whispers. “I want to lick the blood from your cunt and make you moan.”

  “I’m not bleeding,” I whisper, a shiver of forbidden lust going through me at the taboo idea he’s suggesting.

  “Can I make you bleed?” he asks. “I want to taste you again. I want to be a part of you, to be a part of each other.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, my eyes dropping closed and my hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer.

  He lifts up, digging in his pocket and producing a knife. Before I can ask what the fuck he’s doing, he opens it and slices the pad of his thumb. Blood beads on the tip, and he lowers it to my mouth, running it back and forth along my lower lips, painting me with his blood. A charge of heat throbs between my legs, and I open my lips. Devlin pushes his thumb inside, a soft growl sounding in his throat.

  “Suck it,
baby,” he whispers. “Taste me.”

  I close my eyes and draw him into me, shivering with the horrifying yet strangely erotic thrill. Devlin slides his thumb against my tongue, pushing it to the back of my throat before drawing it slowly out. My lids flutter open, and our eyes meet. Devlin’s are blazing with that madness I know so well, the one I court and fear in equal measure. The one that says he’s past the point of no return, and he’s going to fuck me however he pleases, whether or not I want it, and I’m goddamn well going to like it.

  I suck harder, feeling a swell of power inside me when the fire in his eyes blazes hotter. He draws his thumb away and throws off my blankets. I lift my hips for him, pulling up my t-shirt while he strips my underwear off. He shoves my thighs open and buries his wet thumb inside me. A gasp escapes my lips as I realize the slickness isn’t just my arousal, it’s my saliva and his blood. I should be horrified, but instead it makes heat shimmer between my legs, and I let out a moan, lifting my hips to grind into his hand.

  Devlin slides down my body, burying his face between my thighs. He spreads me open and tastes me, a growl building in his throat as his tongue sinks into me, pushing roughly into my entrance. He pulls back and looks up at me, his eyes clouded with lust. “Now you. I want to taste yours again.”

  “Cut me,” I breathe.

  “Where?” he asks, reaching for the knife lying next to me.

  I run my fingers down my bare stomach, spreading myself for him. “Here.”

  Devlin’s breath hitches, and he holds the knife for a second, staring at my cunt with a reverence most would reserve for the second coming. I don’t even tremble as he brings the blade to my skin. I know Devlin wants only my pleasure, and he’ll give me only the pain I need to increase it. A pinch darts through me when the pinprick of the knife’s point breaks my sensitive skin. Devlin groans, dropping the knife and sinking down as if in prayer to capture the drop of blood he drew. He sucks hard, and I writhe and buck against his mouth as he licks and thrusts and sucks, stroking and biting and pushing me to the edge until I can’t breathe, and I have to grab a pillow and hold it over my face to stifle my cries of pleasure as I go over.