Here Lies a Saint: A Dark Bully Academy Romance

by C. L. Matthews

  Even these four guys I once-called friends.

  When you're a founding family member, you're either a murderer or murdered. There's no in-between.

  Jordan’s hand clamps onto my shoulder again, but this time, he adds pressure, stopping me in my tracks. The others continue toward the cabin, where intended on meeting and decided on a plan to keep Colt safe while also trying to understand information she had. We wanted to protect her and fucked up along the way. There was never supposed to be a moment where her and Emeralds were in the same sentence. The mistake is in our hands, and now she knows too much.

  To them, she’s a liability.

  “They killed her tonight,” Jordan mentions.

  My body stiffens. How did they not kill Colt? Did they think Yang was Colt? Or did they merely kill Yang because she betrayed the oath? Did they send cleaners? Are we going to pay the price for their choices?

  “Yes, Captain Obvious, do you have anything more insightful?”

  “I’m just saying I’m shocked they were here when we told everyone we’d be gone. Think it was planned ahead?”

  I shrug him off again and look at his face. There’s worry there. The big dick apparently cares. Yang became an Emerald before any of us. It’s a man’s world, yes, but her family hadn’t had a male heir in years. They didn’t want to kill off the Milton name, but now, it’s looking like that’s the case.

  She knew not to look into Cassidy’s death. They didn’t specify it, but we all assumed it was based upon his sexual preferences. While we live in a progressive town with progressive people, the Emeralds aren’t in the same mindset.

  They see purity as a man and woman.

  They see it as producing heirs.

  They see it as strengthening the bloodline.

  Cassidy, much like Maxim, was gay. Maxim never outed me for our shared tastes, and while no one knew who Cassidy dated, we all assumed he was in the closet. It’s the only safe way to be. When you’re part of the Emerald Vestige, let alone part of a founding bloodline, love doesn’t matter.

  “How do I know it wasn’t you?” I grouse.

  He smiles, his perfect teeth poking through even if the smile’s more menacing than welcoming right now. He brings his thumb toward my face, and I grip his palm before he can touch me. When did this revelation begin, him thinking it was remotely okay to touch me in any shape or form?

  “Little Lennox...” he taunts, not moving his hand whatsoever. For some reason, I want the struggle between us. “Are you scared to feel something?”

  The words teeter on amused, but mostly, they’re dark and full of promise, which is something neither of us should risk, especially in the open as we are.

  I let his wrist drop and push him away, turning, I ignore his craving for a fight. Tonight of all nights, where there’s a fresh dead body and killers in plain sight, we can’t be ignorant and petulant. We can’t want. Or seek. We just... can’t.

  I’m not more than five steps before I’m gripped by my shoulders and slammed against a tall pine. If this fucker gets sap on this ten-thousand-dollar Penn & Co suit, I swear to fuck I’ll kill him myself.

  “What, and I emphasize the fuck, is wrong with you, Walker?” My words drip disgust. The fury boiling inside me rises with each breath. He’s nearly invisible in the dark of night, but I can smell him. Fuck, I can literally inhale the stupid manly scent he carts around. He smiles, the white of his teeth shining brightly. One of these days, I’m going to hit him for being such an asshole.

  “Someday, Lennox, you’ll be calling me by my name with respect, need, and a cock deep inside your ass,” he practically whispers, taunting me as if I’m a fucking snack for him to devour in one go.

  I shiver as his words register. It’s been so long since I’ve touched a guy, let alone allowed them access to me.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I hiss. He adjusts, holding my throat with his massive palm. My dick presses against the soft fabric, all while my balls ache with inactivity. “But you see, I’ll never give in to you.”

  He chuckles darkly, the huskiness making my body hum in ways that make no sense. “You’re so hard I can feel your dick reaching for mine.” He presses into me, our groins joined. “And if you pay attention, you’d know my cock is throbbing for a taste.”

  I let out a harsh breath, my body out of sorts with its innate desire for this fucker. He’s such an asshole, and seeing him—his eyes, the ones that match Maxim’s—kills me every single day.

  “Why the fuck are you doing this?” I demand.

  “Why is it you only curse when I’m in the equation?” he argues, grinding into me. I let out a low growl, and he presses into me harder.

  “Fuck you, Walker. Let me go.”

  He laughs, releasing my throat, but as soon as the weight of him is gone, I miss it. I hate what he does to me, pushing me, wanting me, making me want him too.

  My heart pounds as it catches up with what my head and dick want. It’s him. It has been for months, and I hate myself for wanting my ex-lover’s younger brother.

  “Tell me one thing,” Jordan mutters a moment later, his body still in front of me. He reaches for my chin, his thumb and forefinger gripping it roughly. “Do you avoid me because you’re honoring Maxim, or is it a result of not wanting me?”

  I wait.

  Five seconds.

  Ten.

  A minute passes before I allow myself to truly breathe. Taking in a heavy gasp of oxygen, I push off the tree, bumping into his chest. Switching our positions to where he’s against the bark, I cage him in.

  His scent infiltrates my nose as I’m leaning. My hands dig into the gritty material of the tree, enjoying the sting of pain it offers.

  “You will never be Maxim. The more you compare yourself to him, the angrier I get,” I growl out.

  But that’s not true. I enjoy the taste of jealousy that permeates the air around us. It’s addictive, like a living toxin I’ll willing accept in my veins.

  “You’re right.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, even though he probably can’t see that well in the dark.

  “My cock is much bigger and would feel a whole helluva lot more satisfying,” he continues.

  Dumbfounded and rock hard, I try to comb over the mental dictionary for a proper response. Every inch of my body feels whipped, raw, and sliced open for his visual beating.

  He leans into me, his mouth near where my neck and shoulder meet. Licking a small trail, toying with my skin, he invites goosebumps to my skin, taunting each one to make themselves aware.

  “Jordan,” I growl, losing my willpower and patience all in one.

  His teeth nick my skin then dig into the tendon. A groan releases from me without my permission, testing every ounce of restraint. His hand dances over my slacks, cupping my length. It takes everything in me not to grind into his palm, not to let off some steam.

  Jordan’s hand slides up and then beneath the tight band of my slacks. I literally hiss as his skin connects with my steel length. He guides me back where I was, against the tree, at his mercy.

  “Hard for me, ready for me, and little noises. We’re halfway there, Lennox.” It’s a whisper, but it feels like a yell so near my ear.

  His lips touch where he bit. Then, he’s sucking. The fucker will leave a mark if he’s not careful, but for some reason, that doesn’t make me push him away. If anything, it provokes me. Colt will flip her shit if she saw this.

  Colt.

  Fuck.

  “We need to stop.” The words escape me, but they’re heady with lust, barely recognizable, even to me.

  “In a minute.” His breath is hot against my throat as he flicks his tongue over pulse point. Then, he’s crouching, and my mind races with implications. If anyone saw us like this, at all, in any sense or form, we could be killed.

  “Scared to get off, Lennox? I promise to make it good,” Jordan goads me, his hands working the button on my slacks. “I’ll even allow you to fuck my throat.”
r />   A low rumble is all he gets from me. It’s too tempting to resist, too much, too good, and I fucking need release.

  Without an argument, he works my dick out of my boxer and licks underneath my shaft. His tongue traces each vein, and my body reacts by flexing and jerking with every sensation. I can’t help myself. My hands find their way into his hair, running my fingers through the thick wavy locks, gripping hard with each run through.

  His mouth surrounds my head, and he gives a teasing suck, making me bow off the tree. Taking me in more and more with each inch, he makes sure to drag his teeth over me gently.

  Pain pinches my nipple, when I look down, I see Jordan tweaking one between his finger. He pulls, and I fucking lose it. Loud moans leave me, and he uses that as a suggestion to go faster and deeper.

  My balls tense with every movement against my shaft, his mouth feels like fucking heaven. I grip his face and start thrusting. Bittersweet turmoil rises in me as his hands grip my thighs, digging into me. Unlike most givers, he’s not nice. He wants me to be in pain with him. He wants to make me sweat, and I want to fuck his face until he cries for me.

  Fuck. That thought and imagery have me pulsating. My cock swells as heat zips through my spine and all the way to my balls.

  I detonate, my cum releasing in his mouth while he continues bobbing on me.

  “Shit,” I hiss. “Jordan.” My body relaxes as the last of it escapes from me.

  Then, he’s standing, our mouths barely apart. When I think he’s about to kiss me, he doesn’t.

  Instead, he goes to where he sucked my neck earlier and I feel wetness.

  He did not fucking do that.

  No.

  But there’s no denying the slickness going down my chest, my nipple, and down to my hips. This mother fucker.

  “When you go back to the cabin, where all of them are waiting for us, you’ll be primed for them, showing them you’re mine even if you can’t fathom that thought yet. And when they’re trying to figure out our next step, all you’ll be able to feel is the jizz all on your chest, the hickey on your neck, and that you owe me one.”

  I push at him and growl. “This isn’t over, Walker.”

  “You’re right, Lennox. Until my cock knows every inch of you, it’s only just begun.”

  Chapter Three

  Colt

  “What happened?”

  “Why was she here?”

  “How did this happen?”

  The questions are asked on repeat as I sit in the back of an ambulance. They’ve put a blanket around me, checked my vitals, and Mel’s too. She’s speaking with the police while the shock settles within me.

  The files.

  She went to get them.

  My stomach dances over the ideas of where she could have hidden them. What could have been in the files that caused so much worry in the ones who want to silence us?

  Was that what this was, tying loose ends?

  Why not me?

  Questions overwhelm me with each passing moment. My stomach churns as I imagine how scared she must have been. The blood-curdling screams, the way her eyes were open, frozen in fear, and the vacancy in her gaze...

  I shudder, imagining it being me. It’s my fault, right? I was searching for Cassidy’s killer, digging into the secrets this campus holds, and more than that, I was trying to identify what my guys have to do with this.

  No, not your guys.

  “You okay?” Mel asks, walking up to me.

  Her face—much like mine—is fresh, no mascara or eyeshadow, which hides the fact that we were sobbing. Or her, at least. My eyes feel swollen and heavy. The dryness surrounding them makes me want to sleep, but how do I sleep when my best friend was murdered? When her life was taken and it should have been me?

  I close my eyes, trying to erase the image of Yang from my mind. We’ve been out here for hours as they clean the scene.

  I have no doubt that by tomorrow, news will break loose that Yang did something reckless that resulted in her death. It’s like Cass all over again, except this time, there were witnesses.

  “Where were you?” I ask, wondering how she didn’t show up when Yang was screaming. Why wasn’t she here? She had to have been closer than me.

  “As soon as I heard, I rushed here. I went to hide the files. After hearing your mom and our teacher getting ready to go at it, I knew if they caught me or you, they’d take them.”

  I nod, and my stomach heaves. Every slice of pizza I ate wants to escape my body all at once.

  “Colt!” I hear Moms cry out.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I’m praying this isn’t the case. She did not drive all the way here. No. But unlike Mom, she cares about me. She tries, and she loves me unconditionally when I don’t look like my dead brother, at least.

  She practically tackle hugs me, holding me tight. “Mi preciosa,” she coos over and over, rocking us.

  “That’s my daughter!” I hear Mom curse at the cops stalling her. They know she’s my mom. Everyone knows Tasha Hudson, but maybe my not looking anything like myself from last school year, they’re confused.

  Either way, she bulldozes her way through. She’s still wearing the dress I caught her in hours ago. My eyes narrow.

  Moms releases me, turning to her wife. “Mi rayito,” Moms calls out to Mom. She closes the distance and brings her into a hug. “How are you here?”

  “Rimbaur called me. I got a quick flight.”

  Bullshit.

  I glower at the woman who birthed me, wondering why and how the fuck she could betray her wife—the woman who raised me—and pretend to be working. Does she expect me to keep her lie? Confirm that she isn’t a cheating asshole?

  “I’m so glad you’re here. It could have been our Colton,” Moms frantically explains.

  Mom holds her but hasn’t peered away from me. There’s knowledge there, pain, resentment, and a whole lot of deep-seeded secrecy.

  That’s what it is to be a Hudson.

  To be an Arcadian.

  To be a founding bloodline.

  “Are you okay?” Mom asks, but in her eyes, I see the awareness. She knows I’m not but pretends to offer the love and guidance she doesn’t give normally. “You can come home with us tonight.”

  Shaking my head frantically, I wonder if I can magically fly all the way to Tennessee and see my two boyfriends. They’d help me forget. They’d hold me while I cry. They’d be here. As soon as the thought comes, I smile. They’ll probably be flying out here in their father’s stead to make sure Melissa is okay.

  “I’ll be okay. I’ve got Melissa.”

  When the words leave me, Melissa wanders back over here, greeting them with grins. They’d separated us to question her, probably trying to rule out our guilt. She seems more put together than I do. Did she tell them we were sneaking around?

  “I’m Melissa Tompkins, Colt’s best friend,” she offers before shaking both of their hands. “I’ll take care of our girl.”

  And just like that, my mothers shut up. If all it took was for someone to care about me for them to stop pretending to care, I would have done it when Cass died.

  “Keep in touch,” Moms offers, kissing my forehead and hugging me to her chest.

  Mom stares at me with trepidation. I can’t tell if it’s because she doesn’t know what I’ll say about Richter or if it’s about our bloodline and how fucked up this entire township is. Either way, she’s treading on ice. I’ll destroy her, even if Moms comes out as collateral damage.

  I watch as they speak to both my moms and I’m stuck with Mel, wondering what she said, what we need to hide, and where Yang put the files. If we don’t know, how will we find who killed Cass?

  The officers come back and speak with me and Mel once more and by the time they've interviewed us both, extensively might I add, we head back to my dorm. For the most part, that's where Mel stays. Her dorm is on a lower level, and she shares it with some chick she doesn't seem to like much.

  As soon as I open my door, I'
m greeted with the two most handsome men. I've been missing these last few weeks. Immediately, my eyes well with tears. Seeing them when I feel like utter shit breaks something inside of me. It takes every degree of my control to stay rooted and not jump into their arms.

  "Darlin'," Justice says.

  At the same time, Pru says, "Princess."

  My tears come, unable to stop. The twins stare at me with several levels of concern and need. The separation sadness makes zero sense. We didn't get that much time together, but somehow, we connected on a deeper level.

  "Oh, look. You're here," Mel drones on, sounding irritated and bored. Did she think they wouldn't come? Her father is laying low, so of course, her older brothers would be forced to fly out. This is traumatic, but Mel doesn't seem like it's anything other than another night.

  People cope differently, I guess. While I'm soft, shaking, and in need of a sandwiched cuddle with my boys, she seems impassive, like she could go for a run and feel fine.

  Prudence stares at me with longing, his brown eyes warm and caring. Just goes to Mel, forcing himself to sidestep me.

  I'm pretty sure we both flinch at the action.

  "Little sis, are you okay?" Just's voice actually carries worry. I mean, Yang was murdered hours ago, all while we were both hunting for my brother's murderer.

  "I'm fine, Justice. Just need a shot or two and some sleep."

  I balk, feeling chills break out. How can she brush this off so easily? Does she not care that Yang's life was taken? Is this how she copes? My mind travels to Psych and what I've learned on how people handle death.

  Some cry.

  Some don't.

  Some numb themselves entirely. Maybe that's it. I can't judge her. That's kind of what I did with Cass.

  "Go take a shower, and we can watch something if you're up for it," I offer, wanting her to go away so I can seek comfort in her brothers, which she doesn't seem to mention. They haven't stopped looking at me with high levels of concern.

  She gives me a wave, her way of telling me sure, and leaves to the spare room. After grabbing her caddy she heads toward the communal showers.