Twisted Elites: A Dark Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Bully Boys of Brittas Academy Book 3)

by Sofia Daniel

  A scream tore from my lips, but Sebastian swallowed it in his kiss. He rolled his hips, the movement drawing out my climax.

  Leopold’s organ thickened in my fingers, pulsed, and warm, wet fluid splashed on my hip. “F-fuck!”

  Sebastian continued his rhythm of rolling thrusts, never slowing, never easing off the pressure until his entire body went rigid. He threw his head back and roared.

  Afterward, we took off our sodden underwear and settled into the crisp, cotton sheets. I curled on my side, resting my head on Sebastian’s muscular shoulder, and Leopold spooned behind me.

  “They usually release suspects the next day,” muttered Sebastian. “But I’ve arranged for a lawyer to pay the police a visit in case they decide to keep Kash any longer.”

  The next morning, we visited the police station. It took a lot of pestering for the bored-looking receptionist to take our request for an update on Prakash’s case seriously, and even longer for her to tell us whether a police officer would come out.

  Just before noon, an altercation broke out on the street. Two young women, one of whom carried a toddler, screeched and shoved each other to the encouraging jeers of their friends.

  A middle-aged woman in a tweed suit hurried past them with her head ducked. The messy salt-and-pepper hair bun looked familiar.

  I shot out of my seat. “That’s Mrs. Benazir!”

  We hurried out of the station, where our headmistress entered a red Aston Martin. Pushing aside speculations on why she drove such an expensive vehicle, I picked up my pace.

  “Mrs. Benazir?” Sebastian shouted.

  She wound down the window and frowned. “What are you three doing out of the academy?”

  “What’s happening with Kash?” Leopold pulled open the car door.

  I clasped my hands to my chest, trying to stop my heart from breaking through my ribcage. If the headmistress was leaving already, it had to be a bad sign.

  “An important statement has come in, implicating him in Ashley’s assault. They’re going to keep him for an extra day.”

  My nostrils flared. “Do you honestly believe Prakash would beat a girl bloody and then leave her in his room for the police to find?”

  Mrs. Benazir pursed her lips. “The matter is out of my hands. I suggest you return to the academy now before I take disciplinary action.”

  “What are you doing for him?” I asked. “Have you appointed him a lawyer?”

  The headmistress’s mouth gaped open, which was answer enough. “Go back to your classes now, or you’ll find yourselves suspended.”

  She wound up the window.

  “Wait!” I shouted.

  Mrs. Benazir slammed the door shut, started the ignition, and pulled out.

  Leopold placed a hand around my waist and pulled me out of the road. “She’s incompetent and is over her head. Sebastian’s already made arrangements via the club. Let’s go back to Brittas and wait to hear from his lawyer.”

  We arrived at the Academy in time for lunch. With the spring sunshine brightening the brick facade and reflecting off the arched, floor-to-ceiling windows, the building looked like it could be a spa. But its breathtaking beauty was lost on me. All I could think of was a poisoned apple that hid its corruption within a beguiling exterior.

  As we walked through the hallways, younger students whispered and gaped. Gossip traveled fast in such an enclosed environment, and I imagined everyone wanted to know why I was standing by the best friends of the boy arrested for hurting my sister.

  If they’d thought beyond the latest scandal, they’d remember that Ashley had done the unforgivable, and our relationship was irreparable.

  In the dining room, all conversation petered out to the barest of whispers. The usual students who rushed to serve the kings turned their backs on the boys, and we walked to the serving hatch to fetch our own meals.

  After we had settled in the royal table, Geraldine and Bianca sashayed over. I cast them the barest of glances before busying myself with my chicken biryani.

  “How the mighty have fallen,” said Bianca.

  I glanced up. The two girls stood with their hands on their waists and with one hip cocked out like mirror images.

  “Do tell,” said Leopold. “After a trying day, I welcome the entertainment.”

  “Kash, of course,” said Geraldine. “We heard that Ashley offered herself up to him for a spit roast, and he was so offended by her porcine pussy that he beat the pig shit out of her.”

  “I suppose you’d know about that,” I muttered.

  Geraldine reared back. “W-we’re not into girls!”

  Sebastian placed his fork on his plate, leaned back in his seat and fixed his gaze on the self-styled queens. “That’s not what I heard. Every recruit has to hone her cunnilingus skills on the pair of you.”

  Bianca’s cheeks reddened.

  “He’s not complaining,” said Leopold. “Just stating the facts.”

  “I would never turn my nose up at girl-on-girl action.” Sebastian picked up his fork. “Unless it involved either of you.”

  I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. This conversation was so juvenile yet so effective. Geraldine’s lips trembled, and she cast the scholars’ table surreptitious glances. Perhaps she didn’t want Cormac to overhear that she’d been cheating on him with younger girls.

  “Go to hell,” Bianca spat.

  Leopold snorted. “Right now, with the pair of you hovering over us like ravenous succubi, it feels like Dante’s Inferno.”

  I continued eating my chicken biryani, wondering when the girls would give up and return to their seats, but three figures appeared behind them. The large, dark-haired figure of Bruce Wilmington, flanked by the auburn-haired Riley twins. Three of them were on the football team and led the Knights of Brittas Academy.

  Bruce rubbed his dimpled chin. “It’s a sad day to see a pair of self-styled kings squabbling like queens, what do you say, Barrett and Jarrett?”

  The twin on the left snorted with laughter. “Nice one, Bruce.”

  Bruce curled his fingers around his lapels, revealing bruised knuckles.

  I sucked in a sharp breath. Were they bruised from continually pounding his fists into Ashley? I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.

  “What are you doing, Pigsty?” Bruce cast me a withering glower.

  “You’re quite witty for a boor. Did you know that?” After pressing the record button, I held up the phone and zoomed into his hands. “Say something for the camera, Bruce Wilmington.”

  “Sorry to hear about your sister.” He winked.

  Disgust rippled through my insides, and I made sure to twist my face to encourage him to say more. Meanwhile, I zoomed out to take in his smug features.

  Bruce’s face split into a grin. “It looks like she spread herself too thinly—”

  “Or too widely if you’re describing her legs,” said the twin on the right.

  I curled my lip. How I hated this trio of morons. “Go on… I’m listening.”

  “Any disgraced whore would have left the academy, but she hung around like herpes,” said Bruce.

  Resting my elbows on the table to steady the recording, I said, “I don’t understand.”

  Bruce bared his teeth. “Listen to my words, when the kings finally tire of you, leave Brittas Academy. No one wants to be troubled by something they’ve discarded and long forgotten.”

  “Is that why you hurt Ashley?”

  The twin on the right stepped in front of Bruce. “Is that why you hurt Ashley?” he said in a baby voice. “She hated your guts, and you’re too stupid to realize it.”

  All three of them laughed and returned to their seats. Geraldine and Bianca smirked and followed after them.

  I ground my teeth. If that stupid twin hadn’t interrupted, Bruce might have said something incriminating.

  “What was that all about?” whispered Leopold.

  “Did you see the bruises on his knuckles?” I whispered back.

&n
bsp; “Well done,” said Sebastian. “We’ll hand that footage over to the lawyer so that he can pass it onto the police.”

  Chapter 3

  Despite our worries about Prakash, a layer of tension evaporated from finally being reconciled with Sebastian. The revelation that he had been in a relationship with Miss Claymore, who had subsequently pestered him for intimacy, had affected my perception of him, no matter how many times I had blamed the woman for getting involved with a child. It hadn’t helped that Sebastian had been in denial about how far Miss Claymore would go to get rid of the competition.

  A little voice in the back of my head—Ashley’s, I supposed—asked why he had withheld the revelation about Miss Claymore for so long, but I pushed it aside. He had opened up about the abuse and reported her to the police and helped to get her fired. I couldn’t ask for more.

  We lay together in his room, sharing slow kisses and caressing each other to shuddering climaxes before sleeping in each others’ arms. He never pressured me for more, even though I was more than ready to lose my virginity.

  The next morning, I awoke sprawled on Sebastian’s chest, enjoying the way his slow heartbeat reverberated against my ear when a heavy fist knocked on the door.

  He jerked awake. “Who is that?”

  The fist continued to pound.

  With a yawn, I slid my hand down his hard stomach and wrapped my fingers around his morning erection. “The last time someone knocked on Prakash’s door like that, it was Bruce Wilmington, complaining that one of the Riley twins had burned himself on a hookah.”

  Sebastian closed his eyes and groaned into my touch. “Fuck them, then.”

  “Willow?” said a familiar, male voice behind the door. “Are you in there?”

  Sebastian’s arm tightened around my back. “Ignore him, and he’ll go away.”

  “It’s Cormac,” I whispered. “What if he has an important update on the reopening of Corrine’s case?”

  Sebastian shook his head. “He’s more likely to lure you into his room and hold you prisoner until he reaches puberty.”

  Pursing my lips, I let go of Sebastian’s erection and shoved myself off his chest. “It’s not like that with us.”

  “Really?” His gaze lingered over my exposed breasts, down to my waist and up again. “Even uptight dickheads want to stick it in beautiful girls.”

  Irritation tightened my skin, and I slid off the bed. “Now you sound like Leopold.”

  He pushed himself up, exposing that gorgeous, muscled torso. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Hold on!” I padded across the room, but seconds later, Sebastian’s arms encircled my waist. “Now, who’s holding me prisoner?”

  “If you must speak to him, then cover up.” Still securing me around the waist, he walked me to the bathroom door and pulled his robe off the peg. “I don’t want him getting even more strange ideas about you.”

  I shoved on the dressing gown and gave him a peck on the lips. “Cormac isn’t a lecher.”

  “All men with a set of balls are lechers.” He paused and tilted his head to the side. “Maybe you’ll be fine with Gibbons, after all.”

  “You’re being a dick.” I strode to the other side of the room and opened the door to find Cormac standing in the hallway, his cheeks flushed, and a scowl marring his features. He wore his bottle-green uniform. Behind him, Leopold leaned against the opposite door in his boxer briefs with a smirk.

  “Cormac?” I asked.

  His eyes softened. “May I have a word?”

  “You’re already having a word,” said Sebastian.

  “In private,” Cormac said between clenched teeth.

  “Whisper in her ear, then.” Sebastian placed both hands on my shoulders. “I’m not letting her go anywhere with you.”

  “For goodness’ sake!” I shrugged him off and walked down the hallway with my best friend.

  Sebastian and Leopold followed at a distance.

  “Sorry about them,” I whispered to Cormac.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered back.

  I furrowed my brow but didn’t ask for clarification. He probably wouldn’t elaborate until we had widened the distance between ourselves and the kings.

  At the end of the hallway, he whirled on me and hissed, “Have you taken leave of your senses? Didn’t you learn a lesson from Ashley’s fall from grace?”

  My mouth opened and closed. He made her sound like Lucifer in Paradise Lost. “What are you talking about?”

  “Forced alcohol consumption, sexual assault, attempted vehicular assassination, kidnapping… after suffering all of those, hasn’t it taught you anything that these are the kings of mayhem?”

  “That was all Miss Claymore and the queens.”

  Cormac folded his arms across his chest. “I didn’t see any women out with Ashley in the snow. Nor were there any present when they pulled her out of the East Wing on a stretcher.”

  I swallowed hard. “The knights are different from the—”

  “Where do you think Bruce Wilmington and the Riley twins get their inspiration? Snuff films?”

  I flinched at the harsh words. “They’re diff—”

  “The police aren’t keeping Prakash Kashaayah for so long because of circumstantial evidence. He’s addicted to hurting women and is inspiring others to do the same.”

  Grimacing, I clenched my fists, itching to tell him about the footage I had shot of Bruce’s bruised knuckles. But he and the twins dwelled somewhere on this hallway and were most probably listening to the entire conversation.

  Instead, I lowered my voice. “Trust me, alright?”

  He closed his eyes and turned his head to the wall. “How can I when I’ve already seen this pattern of behavior. Corrine—”

  “I’m not your sister.” My hands closed around his arms.

  Cormac reared back, and pain flashed across his features. He lowered his head, and his shoulders drooped.

  Guilt lanced me through the stomach, making my insides deflate. He’d seen me as a surrogate for Corrine. He’d even admitted it, and my words had probably hit him worse than a kick in the gut.

  I let go of his arms and stepped back. “Cormac, I’m sorry.”

  He raised his head and swallowed. Without casting me a glance, he walked through the hallway, past Leopold, and Sebastian, who stood with a towel around his middle.

  “Peculiar.” Leopold’s arm encircled my waist.

  “What?”

  “If you grabbed me and said you weren’t my sister, I’d thank you and bury my head in your tantalizing tits.”

  “Same here,” said Sebastian.

  I turned to him and raised my brows.

  He raised a shoulder. “Although I’d probably forgo the self-smothering. That’s Leo’s thing, not mine.”

  Leopold placed his hand on my ass and gave me a little push toward Sebastian’s room. “Let’s get moving.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Carlisle,” said Sebastian. “To the Royal Infirmary.”

  Before leaving, we emailed the video of Bruce’s bruised fists to Sebastian’s legal contact from the club. We would miss a whole day of classes and infuriate Mrs. Benazir, but none of that mattered when the police had Prakash.

  I sat in the back of the jeep, staring out into the valley. With Sebastian driving carefully at the wheel, I could appreciate the vast, rolling hills of the Lake District, carpeted in shades of green ranging from beige to emerald green, to the darkest shades of pine.

  My shoulders relaxed, and the silence gave me space to reflect on my conversation with Cormac.

  He had seemed betrayed that I still associated with the kings. I still couldn’t tell if it was because he believed Prakash had hurt Ashley or if he still blamed them for Corrine’s death. I ran a hand through my mahogany hair. Both reasons seemed equally as valid.

  The one thing I knew for sure about Prakash was that he was neither stupid nor hot-headed. Even if he wanted to kick the shit out of someon
e, he wouldn’t do it in his bedroom and then call Leopold and the victim’s sister to come and take a look at his handiwork.

  Even before Ashley’s pigging, I could tell that Bruce and his knights were sadistic, impulsive misogynists. That time I’d returned from Ashley’s initiation and rumors had spread about the pork ribs, they had descended on me like starving wolves. If I hadn’t fought back—I shook my head. There was no point imagining myself naked in the snow bruised and battered.

  “What if Ashley knew something about Bruce and the others and tried to blackmail them?” I asked.

  Leopold grunted. “That’s exactly what I think happened.”

  “She never reported them for what they did earlier in the term,” said Sebastian.

  “From what I heard, it was worse than it appeared that night,” added Leopold.

  I leaned forward and held onto the backs of their seats. “What did you hear?”

  Leopold twisted in his seat, his aquamarine eyes sorrowful. “Sorry, Willow. I can’t repeat it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Please, don’t push it.” Sebastian slowed to take a hairpin turn. “There’s no point in bringing up distressing rumors based on younger boys’ boasts.”

  “They raped her.” My voice was flat.

  The kings exchanged a look.

  Leopold shook his head. “She’s your sister, and—”

  “Ashley stopped being my sister the day she sided against me with the queens. I just don’t like the idea of any woman getting hurt.”

  “Still, though,” said Sebastian. “I can’t talk about it.”

  “You should hear it from Ashley,” Leopold muttered.

  I glowered out of the window into the distant mountains and remained silent for the rest of the journey. They were right, but it still rankled that no one had been punished for that disgusting assault. It would only encourage them to do worse to the next girl.

  We stepped into Ashley’s hospital room, and I froze at the doorway, nearly gagging on the scent of antiseptic and strong urine. Her bottom lip had tripled in size, and blood glistened from the cut bisecting the swollen flesh. Both upper and lower lids protruded out from the rest of her misshapen face.