Emma heels her door shut.
I let out a singular laugh, shaking my head as I run my hand through my hair.
If there was ever a thought that Emma and I would be bonding over our mutual misfit status at Briarcliff Academy, holy hell, was I so utterly misguided.
4
I’m outside.
I rise up on one elbow, squinting at my phone, my tongue thick and fuzzy from breathing through my mouth while I slept. Three dancing dots appear as I’m trying to decipher the meaning behind the text, and the messenger.
Meet me.
At last, my vision clears of sleep, and I sit up, sliding my heavy nest of hair to one shoulder.
“Chase?” I whisper to myself.
He hasn’t said a word, sent a text, or exhaled in my direction since our last conversation involving Piper’s secret pregnancy. To believe what I’m reading would mean Chase is standing outside the dorms, waiting for me to come out and see him.
This afternoon’s events flash into my mind, its dreamlike quality becoming clearer the harder I blink. Chase punched James’s lights out because he was saying vile things … about me.
Chase, the boy who prefers to ignore me when he’s not horny, chose to beat up his friend for daring to insult me.
I stare up in thought. Does that deserve a secret, nightly meet-up?
Me: Go away. I was sleeping.
Blacking out my phone’s screen, I move to toss it on my nightstand and nestle into my bedcovers, still warm from when I was snoozing comfortably.
It buzzes while leaving my palm, and on a huff of annoyed, yet curious, breath, I glance at the text’s preview.
Chase: If you don’t come down, I’m coming up.
Fack. Chase doesn’t bluff. And knowing him, he’d probably be noisy as all hell, waking up his sister and—
Oh, God. His sister lives with me now. Does he know that?
Besides that, what time is it? My phone says four in the morning, and I groan. I was hoping to use this Saturday to sleep in and get used to my new dorm environment, or failing that, going into town and studying at the public library, far away from the other students here. Why does Chase have to ruin the tentative peace I’ve established while trying to finish out this semester?
Chase: 5…
Chase: 4…
Damn it. I slide out of bed, fumbling for a hoodie to throw over my sleep tank and shorts, then slip into my white sneakers.
Chase: 3…
The bastard is probably already through the sliding doors. I have zero faith in the “heightened” security of this place, especially considering the last month when my nocturnal, cloaked visitor left me rose petals. I swear the Cloak is real, even if no one believes me. Even if Chase has made me question whether my convictions are fact or remnants of my previous hysterical break-down…
Chase: TWO
I text two words on a growl, my thumbs slamming against my screen. COMING ASSHOLE.
Slipping the hood over my head and tucking my phone into the front pocket, I tip-toe out of the apartment, noting the dim, golden light shining out from under Emma’s door with vague curiosity.
My dorm room neighbors the stairwell, and I choose to pad down the steps rather than risk the ding of the elevator. Once on the ground floor, I take the second exit out the side of the building so as not to enter the lobby and possibly be spotted by night security.
They were brought in for extra safety, but would I trust their nightly flashlight sweeps with my life? Absolutely not. I have more faith in the kitten a girl on my floor smuggled in under their noses.
I round the corner of the red, brick building, the grass tips wet and speared with a cold dew that brushes against my ankles like tiny skeletal fingers. Once the coast is clear, and I swing around the blind corner, I see Chase leaning against a luxurious, midnight blue BMW, headlights on and engine growling low. It’s not the type of BMW I associate with middle-aged businessmen like my stepdad. This is sleeker, lower to the ground, with a lot of black detailing and strange, red, under-wheel lights illuminating the tires.
No security guard comes out to scold him. He probably paid them triple their hourly salary to keep quiet.
“Like what you see?” Chase purrs as I walk toward him.
His voice tightens my chest with tangled nerves, and I hope I cover up the falter in my steps before he notices.
I’ve always seen Chase in school uniform or athletic gear, never in a T-shirt and jeans. Yet, here he stands, in all his mouth-watering glory, his strong, muscular legs hidden in dark denim that hugs his butt as he leans casually against his car. Chase’s shirt is tight against his pecs and tailored to his wide shoulders and narrow hips. The muscles of his crossed forearms ripple with devious intent as I step closer.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, then point at Thorne House. “Oh yeah, and your sister is living with me.”
He pops off the passenger side, opening the door before he steps back. “I know. Get in.”
“You can explain yourself right here, Chase Stone.”
Chase rounds the front of the car. He reaches the driver’s side and says to me over the hood, “There’s coffee in your cupholder.”
No five words have ever sounded so sexy.
Chase pounces on my hesitation. “Lots of cream, no sugar. How you like it.”
I shuffle my feet, digging my clenched fists into my hoodie’s pocket. “Is it from the bakery in town?”
Chase’s mouth lifts. “Marta has a soft spot for me.”
I bet she does. Not a lot of women would open their doors at three in the morning, unless it holds the promise of Chase Stone on the other end.
But she makes really good coffee.
And it would be the freshest pot of them all—the first of the day while the morning employees prepped dough before opening their doors.
“And monkey bread,” Chase adds. “First batch.”
“Damn it,” I mutter, and slide in at the same time he does.
The car’s dashboard emits a subtle, blue hue against our silhouettes. Chase’s profile takes on a devilish tone, shadows layering with the flowing indigo lights of the interior.
This, right here, is physical proof that demons prefer blue over red.
I study his sharp jawline with unintentional awe before I snap my mouth shut and stare straight ahead.
He’s not your personal playground anymore. You’re not allowed to keep picturing him naked.
The tug in my belly, tied in his direction, tells me otherwise.
Chase’s long fingers grip the wheel as he steers us out of Thorne House and onto Briarcliff’s private road.
My gaze flicks back to him, not just for appreciation. I’m searching for signs of the fight, bruises or cuts or fractures. “Are you hurt?”
His lips tilt. “For someone who refused to come talk to me, you sure have a lot of questions.”
I busy myself with his promised cup of coffee, lifting it and sipping at the perfection. The scent of cinnamon and caramel tickles my nostrils, and like a hound sensing a fox, my head whips to the backseat.
Chase chuckles. “Had I known all it would take to lure you into my ride was some sugar and caffeine, I would’ve left a trail of it into the forest long ago.”
The relaxed, semi-threat drives my attention away from the white bag spotted with melted butter and to the front. “So, instead of leading me into the woods, you’re what, taking me prisoner in your cursed castle?”
“Save the food for when we arrive,” is all he says.
“Fine.” I settle into my seat, cupping the coffee close. “But I’m not going to leave the question of why you woke me up until we reach our mysterious destination.”
“I never thought you would.”
The car’s wheels turn gracefully under Chase’s hands when we exit Briarcliff Academy’s gates and merge onto the deserted main road, rimmed with tall, untended trees. For a moment, departing the manmade, landscaped, and carefully chosen flora and fauna of t
he academy and driving into the natural wildness of the protected forest is jarring, but I stifle the feeling, preferring not to ponder why I’m more comfortable within the school’s gates than out.
Especially considering the chauffeur I’ve chosen.
“Why am I here?” I ask him.
“I thought that’d be obvious. Because I want to talk to you.”
Sighing, I rephrase the question to something more specific, since I really should know by now Chase doesn’t deal in generalities. “Why didn’t you tell me your sister was coming back to school?”
A muscle tenses in Chase’s cheek. “You and me, we haven’t spoken much.”
“A few weeks,” I agree. After a beat of silence, I risk adding, “If you want the truth, I knew bringing up Piper’s pregnancy would drive a wedge between us, but I never thought you’d—”
“Emma isn’t here with my approval,” Chase says. We make another turn into the darkness. The speed of his driving sets my teeth on edge. There aren’t any streetlights to help us along. I’m relying solely on Chase’s fancy headlights to keep me from becoming a crushed soda can against an errant tree.
“I told her it wasn’t a good idea,” he continues. “But Emma isn’t known for listening.”
Sounds familiar, I add silently.
“She has this … strange vendetta,” Chase says. “I’m happy she wants to get out of our dad’s house, but I was hoping she’d transfer to Dover Shores or hell, some school in California. Anywhere but here.”
I nod in full agreement. Briarcliff isn’t known to spit out well-heeled, sweet individuals. “So, she refused to listen to you, but what about her therapist? Or doctors?”
“They all had the same opinion as me. It was our father who poisoned Emma against us. He encouraged her reentry into this school. Said it might be healing for her to face her demons.”
“But she…” I shake my head while my thoughts realign. “When she moved in, she said that the people responsible for her assault might still be here. She thinks her attacker is at this school, be it a teacher or a student or…”
“I know.” The whites of Chase’s knuckles poke through his grip, notable even in the low lighting. “My dad thinks it’s her paranoia talking.”
For the barest of seconds, his eyes flick to me.
I tense, but don’t add kindling to that fire, since I’m supposedly reformed and no longer victim to the delusion that my stepdad is responsible for my mother’s death.
“She could be right,” I say softly.
Chase cedes my point by dipping his chin, but says, “Dad’s convinced it was a rogue event. A townie breaking into Briarcliff grounds. Marron thinks so, too. And the Briarcliff police force.”
“And you?”
“I…” Chase works his jaw but doesn’t tear his eyes from the road. Probably because he’s afraid of the questions reflecting in my eyes, the ones threatening to unleash the instant he gives me an opening.
“It wasn’t your Cloaks,” he says.
“Call them what they are,” I say. “The Nobles. The Virtues.”
“Callie,” he warns.
“Hey, I’ll even accept Briarcliff Academy’s secret society. I know they exist, Chase.”
“Don’t do this.”
“You’re the one who called me. You had your escape hatch all mapped out when you dipped on me that night, and I’d even come to accept you weren’t going to talk to me for the rest of the year. I’d made my peace with it.” Not. “Yet here I am, in your car, on your invitation, because you want something from me. Well, it goes both ways, buddy.”
Chase makes an impatient sound in his throat, but his next turn is sharper, and I’m thrown against his side before I can brace. I latch onto the hard length of his arm, so stiff with muscle my fingers don’t dimple the skin, as he finishes the turn and we coast up another private road.
I twist my face away from his intoxicating scent, seemingly crafted just for my pheromones, a mix of salted sweat, freshwater, and pine, and focus on where we are.
The forest is heavier here, tree branches and their falling leaves yawning over the roadway, creating a natural, curving archway we drive under. Chase’s tinted sunroof is so large, it takes up the entire top of the car, and it’s like I’m given wings, taking flight through fantastical woodland under the twinkle of stars.
“Wow,” I breathe, the stars’ silver specks poking through like sparkling jewels worn by the black, skeletal hands of the branches above.
“You can let go now.”
Chase’s voice draws my chin down, and I unfurl from his arm. We’ve slowed to a stop in view of a massive glass structure, a building spanning the size of a New York City block that I’m coming to understand is the length of people’s homes around here.
“Come on,” he says, exiting the car with slick, effortless grace.
I’m less tranquil, my knees hitting my chest as I swing them to the ground after elbowing open the door. I make sure to swipe the tantalizing bakery bag and balance my coffee before I let myself out.
Chase is already striding down the small walkway, swinging a keyring in his hand. I’m slow to catch up, because I’m too busy clocking the scope of this house, a looming shadow clawing out of its spot in the forest and dominating the sky.
“Is this your place?” I ask his retreating back.
He responds over his shoulder, “It’s our lake house.”
I swallow the forgotten saliva building in my mouth.
Turns out I was wrong. Chase didn’t ferry me to his cursed castle.
The dark prince of Briarcliff Academy took me to his vacation home instead.
5
I hurry to catch up with Chase, reluctant to continue hanging out in the darkness. We’re still in the middle of the wilderness, and the idea of neighbors other than bears being nearby is laughable.
Wolves, too. The real ones.
“Wait up!” I call, and Chase pauses once he unlocks the large iron doors.
He steps back to let me in first, and I pause for half a second on the door knocker in the vivid shape of a sleeping bat before stepping over the threshold.
“So, your lake house, huh?” I say as Chase steps in behind me. He heads to one side of the foyer, turning on lights. “It’s … quaint.”
Chase has illuminated a vast, open area, with a gray brick fireplace built in the middle of the room and stacked to the vaulted ceiling, the exposed wooden beams creating a cabin-like feel only the wealthy would consider essential. Thin, white leather couches are placed on one side of the fireplace, and a formal dining table on the other. A throw rug in the shape of a wolf is spread out between the couches, and while I’m hoping it’s fake, I’m pretty sure it’s not.
The floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side probably provide an amazing view of the Stone’s private property, but nothing can be seen through the black of the night but our own pale reflections.
Chase laughs under his breath. “Follow me. We’ll eat and talk in the kitchen.”
“I didn’t know you had a place so close to the school,” I say, trailing behind Chase down a single step and into the main room until we reach the open, luxury kitchen.
Chase spins to take the bakery bag from my hands, and I settle onto a stool while he opens cupboards.
“Probably because I consider it more of a prison,” he says while placing two plates between us. “This is where I’ll be riding out next week.”
I put my finger to my lips and pretend contemplation. “Don’t tell me, your decision to club another Neanderthal upside the head for insulting me has resulted in your suspension.”
“What’d you expect?” Chase responds, as if I was the one who asked him to be such an idiot.
“You shouldn’t have hit James.”
He slides a plate of still-steaming monkey bread closer, and I stare at it for a minute before giving in.
“He deserved it.” Chase licks the drippings of my portion off his thumb while keeping his eyes on
mine. An internal shiver wraps its way around my chest. Never have I wanted to be icing sugar more.
Chase bites the pad of his thumb in thought, then says, “James was being an ass.”
“He’s always an ass.”
“When it comes to you, my buddies and I have an agreement. You and I may not be currently fucking, but my moratorium on anyone saying anything negative about you or doing anything to you still stands.”
I lift another piece of bread to my mouth. The hot caramel and the spicy notes of cinnamon hit my taste buds under pillowy vanilla dough, and I moan.
Chase freezes while plating his piece, his jawline going rigid. Pieces of fine blond hair fall into his eyes, and while I can only see his profile, I sense the solar flare within him, his irises going black with expanded pupils.
My breath hitches as I set the bread down carefully. The raw, tingling pressure against my nipples is almost unbearable. “I don’t need your protection.”
“No?” His question is soft. Dangerous.
“Piper’s killer is behind bars. There’s no more risk of a murderer strolling through Briarcliff halls,” I say. “And according to you, my discovery of a secret society poses no danger because they don’t exist.” I add an eye roll as final punctuation.
“There’s still Falyn to consider,” Chase says as he rests on the stool next to mine. His presence is too close, too warm. “And Addisyn. Without my protection, they’ll make it their mission for you to regret ever enrolling at this school.”
I grit my teeth. “I can handle a few mean girls.” I side-eye Chase. “And mean boys, if it comes to that.”
His mouth quirks.
I stare at him for a moment, worrying my lips.
Because, without a doubt, if I stay any longer, I’ll jump him.
Virtue (Briarcliff Secret Society Series Book 2) Page 3