“Mr. DeLeon, are we boring you?” our teacher asks, interrupting my case study of Colton, the bloody corpse.
“Actually,” I mock, “boring would be far more entertaining than your dribble.”
“Out.”
It’s a single word, but it has me smirking. These teachers have forgotten who owns this school, all the power and money that lines their pockets. But it's okay. It gives me time to do what's necessary for the next step. Disappointing him before I've had the chance to prove myself isn't something I can do. We only have six months before everything happens. Once it does, Cassidy Hudson won't be the only one buried six-feet under.
No one's safe.
Not even me.
“I’m sorry. Are you threatening to take me out of class?” I act the part, playing the saintly Lennox DeLeon, the class president, heir to the DeLeon fortune. It's a game. Every step I take is planned. A smirk tilts my lips as I feel the man’s eyes staring at me all while I watch my toxic green goblin. She won’t look at me, but that doesn’t stop me from devouring every inch of her body, committing every ounce to memory.
She tastes as dangerous as one would think.
Addictive.
Savage.
Captivating.
“Not threatening, Mr. DeLeon," our teacher states. "It’s happening. Leave.”
I let out a derisive snort. “Sure. I’ll get right on that.”
He waits for me, his arms crossed, a scowl painted on his hardened features. The poor sod can’t even tell how idiotic he’s being. Whether I’m president or not, my father doesn’t take lightly to teachers dismissing me, and I’m sure one of these loser Arcadia kids will be informing him or Twitter how I’ve been kicked out of class.
When I stand, Colt finally glances at me. Her cheeks are tinted that rouge color that always makes me hard, and I can’t help but to wink. She hates me, but she forgets hate-fucking is much nicer than Ten’s and Ross’ pussy lovemaking attempts.
She’ll learn.
I’ll teach her.
She turns away, and I strut past her and out the door. These losers don’t know half of what my life is like. They never will. A king can have all the power, but it’s his subjects knowing his life that damages everything.
I’ll keep my secrets, and these kids will learn that I bow for no one. Not even him. If I die, I'll die with my pride.
“So, what do you think?” I ask Jordan later that night. I'm sitting on my bed, typing my essay for Humanities, while he leans against the headboard, spinning a pen in his fingers. Jordan was supposed to be our plot twist. He went under the radar with Colt, but it wasn't as fruitful as we'd hoped.
"She's hiding shit. Melissa, too. Not sure what they're up to, but Bridger says Melissa is laying it on thick, if you catch my drift."
"Colt isn't going to like that her best friend is fucking him," I point out, thinking of how I feel about Ridge touching someone other than Colt. He's not mine, but it doesn't make me want him touching someone else.
My mind travels to Ross. To Ten. Then back to Jordan.
Sharing has never been a problem with us. Not before Colt, at least. Now, it seems she's pitted us against each other. We all want a taste. We all want her as ours. We all want to win her favor.
"It's all a part of the plan, Lennox. Can't win if we're not on top."
Grunting, I get off my bed, needing something to ease the stress. After setting my laptop on my dresser, I close it and run a hand through my hair.
Being a DeLeon is hard enough. Add the presidency, Colt, steadying my grade point average, and everything I've got to do to protect the Emeralds, I'm fucking exhausted, and the school year is still fresh.
I don't have time, yet it's all I need. I need it to slow, crash onto the rocks of Moonstone Lake, to drift and become simpler, but I'll never get my wish, not as long as I've got duties.
"Do they know?" Jordan asks, breaking me from my stupor.
"Know what?"
"That we fucked her. Together."
I think back to that night. I needed so much more. I've got to break her down, make her cry, and then lick her tears away as she begs me to come.
"No," I bite, wanting to punch him for bringing it up. They don't know. I've never kept secrets. Each time one of us hooked up with Colt, even before, we knew. When Ten fucked her, it was a joint decision.
This is the first time I've held back, and I don't know why. Maybe it's from Ross fucking her without asking. Maybe it's Ten kissing her when we decided to wait. Or maybe it's because they've all had their taste while I've stayed back and made sure she wouldn't completely break.
No matter the why, it's something we're risking by keeping silent.
"Are your little pets going to be jealous?"
My eyes land on him, his dark hair in disarray and his navy blue eyes digging into my soul with a single glance.
"What's it to you?" I ask. They're not my pets. No matter what we share.
"Maybe riling them up is what I want to do. Right before I fuck you."
"Not happening, Walker," I challenge, pointing a finger at him.
He grabs a joint off the nightstand and lights up. His chest deflates as he inhales deeply. His eyes relax as he holds in the rich smoke. "I'll break you down, DeLeon. Then that ass is mine."
A sardonic laugh leaves me. This fucker thinks he's going to get a taste when none of the others have? He's reaching, even for him.
Ross, Ten, Ridge, and I grew up together. Ten was closer to Cassidy. Bridger was closer to Jay, and Ross was mine. We did stupid shit together, shared our first fuck together, and got wasted for the first time together. Jordan is new. He may be the President of the Emeralds, his last name bestowing that title, but he'll never be Ross.
"In your dreams, Walker."
"Dreams come true all the time. Watch."
I flip him the bird as he takes another long drag, and I leave him in my room, hoping he doesn't fuck up everything we've spent the last year planning.
Too bad Cass isn't here to see it.
Twenty-Eight
Two months. I’ve avoided them for two months, and it’s nearly Thanksgiving. I’m doing better physically. I can finally eat food. Between the doctor and therapist visits, finally being taken off my medication, and struggling with eating anything, it’s been exhausting. It took a couple extra weeks, but my doc gave me the all-clear for regular food. My physician, doesn’t even require to see me. Rich people get away with everything, and apparently, my illness is another thing I could lie about and get away with.
I’ve been devouring too much food, though, and I’m constantly sick. It’s an adjustment, and to stop my binging, I’ve had to busy myself.
Pizza and chocolate. I’m eating pizza and chocolate. And Pop Rocks.
God, I missed them.
That’s not even in reference to Ten, even if whenever they explode in my mouth, I think of him. The night of the party, when I kissed and shared two of the five guys, it’s unspoken.
In class, Lux is silent—waiting, I’m sure. Mel doesn’t know I ran home because of them getting to me. She was too busy with Bridger, anyway.
Jordan’s words from our time together are on replay, the ones about being fucked on my brother’s old bed.
He got to me.
They all did.
Mel doesn’t even know about what we did, and we pretty much live together at this point. Plotting the demise of five boys and finding Cassidy’s killer aren’t easy tasks. We’re constantly trying to find out what possibly could have brought him harm, but without information, we’re at a plateau.
The plan is to sneak into the Crystal Tower and snoop in Cassidy’s old room—if that’s what that room was. Then if we can get back into the cabin all while the boys are gone for their winter break in three weeks, we’ll win. Our sleepovers recently consist of her staying for days at a time.
Fall break just started, and she wants me to fly to Tennessee to ease the tension in her house between her and her dad.
Moms is in Europe right now, and Mom is in Australia signing a new deal for some stone—I didn’t really listen on the phone call. I’m free.
Honestly, if it wasn’t for the prospect of seeing and meeting her brothers, I’d run. The thought of meeting Prudence and Justice scares me shitless.
A mafia boss, twins, and a corpse walk into a bar.
Not a joke. This is what will happen.
Laughing at my own mental image, I wait for Mel to come over. I got her a duplicate key. She doesn’t even knock anymore.
“Hey, Col!” she hollers at the entrance.
“In here!” I return and hear her practically running down the hall to my bedroom. When she steps in, I’m touching up my toenails with black polish. This one is different from the last one. It has metallic glitter that gives it a chrome effect.
“You look like you’re trying out for Beetlejuice in that outfit, girl.”
I stare at my striped shorts, black NF hoodie and Oogie Boogie slippers, and can’t help the laugh that comes out.
“I’d be a helluva lot cuter, and I definitely wouldn’t grab my crotch every chance I get.”
“That’s what makes him so hot.’
“Ew,” I groan, putting my finger in my mouth. “That’s just wrong, Mel.”
She laughs and sits next to me. The bed dips, making me nearly paint my toe. “Sorry,” she mumbles.
“You think he’s hot?” I don’t let it go, not wanting her to pretend she didn’t just admit to thinking that dead dude is attractive.
“Have you seen the way he turns into a snake?”
“Yeah, and gross.”
“You have no taste,” she argues.
“And you’re a freak.”
She grabs her chest. “How dare you?”
We both become a fit of giggles.
“You either have daddy issues, or you really need a daddy, and I’m not talking about your dad.”
She blushes. Does she want one?
“What’s that face for?” I ask, pushing her for information.
Her cheeks grow redder. “There’s this guy I met when I went to Arcadia’s Village. He was older, a lot older, and he was so incredibly handsome that I nearly melted.”
“Ooooh, do tell. Did you do the big bang?”
“God, no. He was my dad’s age and could have been a total skeeze.”
“You’re probably right, but men that are older usually know how to make it feel really good. If you know what I mean.” I hit her shoulder with mine, and she laughs.
“I haven’t had sex before,” she admits.
I place my nail polish down and turn to her. “No shit?”
“No shit,” she repeats. “I always wanted it to mean something, but come to think of it, maybe I just want to be owned by someone that knows what to do.”
I smirk, thinking of my first time. “I lost mine last year before my brother passed away.” I wince. He didn’t pass. He was murdered. “I thought it’d be shitty and painful, but the guy I lost it to knew what he was doing. He made me come several times before we had sex.”
Her eyes take on a conspiratorial glaze. “Maybe I just need that.”
“Maybe,” I muse and change the subject. “Want to go searching while we’re at your home? Bars. Fake IDs. Let’s make it happen.”
She nods enthusiastically. “Oh, man! I am so excited for us to spend the time together...” She pulls out her cell, and her eyes widen.
My phone vibrates, and I reach for it, distracting me from her phone.
Girl! I miss you! Let’s catch up? Yang’s text makes me grin.
Yes! Phone call, or would you want to squash your shitty moods and visit me?
Are you saying I’m high-maintenance, Colton? Because... it’s true.
I laugh out loud at that.
“Who’s that?” Mel questions as my face hurts from smiling.
“Yang,” I mention. “She’s being a brat.”
She smiles and nods, but I see something uncomfortable there. “My dad’s town car is outside. We need to go pronto.”
She helps me blow on my nail polish, and since I didn’t get my normal three coats, I pack it in my purse and head out. The driver stands in front of the car. He’s older, black hair with a tinge of gray at the temples. I give Mel waggling eyebrows, but she reddens and shakes her head. We load our bags and are headed off.
The divider slides down, and the driver starts talking. “We’ll be at Arcadia International in an hour. Please drink refreshments and let me know if you need anything.”
While Mel is a stuttering mess next to me, I tell him thank you. The divider goes back up, and I jab her side.
“You could totally convince him to pop that cherry.”
“Colt!” she hisses. I giggle. “I’m serious. He’s easy on the eyes, and I bet he knows exactly where your clit is.”
“Oh my god, shut up,” she hisses.
I grab a bottle of water, sitting at the center of the vehicle, twisting the top, and drinking it in the next go. The cold hurts my throat, reminding me how much warm water is more appealing.
After we head out, we chat travel plans and decide we’ll plan more when we know how the weather is looking. After getting to the airport, the driver takes our luggage, and we get on the big private jet. They serve us refreshments, making sure there’s nothing more we need, and before we know it, we’re in Tennessee.
When we arrive, there’s a new driver. He’s bald, stalky, wearing sunglasses that make him seem more like a security guard than an escort, but it doesn’t seem to bother Mel. She’s used to this kind of weird experience.
The black town car glides toward our destination, and the man doesn’t say a single word.
“That’s Fonzy. He doesn’t talk.”
“Like, ever?” I question, raising a critical brow.
Mel laughs and nods.
My gaze flicks toward the front, wondering if he’s some scary mobster. You know, the hands of the operation, since it’s obvious Mel’s dad is the brains. Fonzy’s narrowed expression sends shivers down my spine, almost like a confirmation.
“He’s the silent type and gestures instead of speaking. When I was younger, it always made me upset because I felt alone a lot, but he seems to grow on you.”
Her words draw my attention back to her, but when I peer back, the divider is now up and I wonder how communication is possible. Then, I think about Bridger and realize that maybe it works by getting used to the silence rather than enjoying it.
“We’ll be at my house in twenty if you want to power nap,” she offers, all while focused on her cell.
I’ve never been much for social media. It would be a drag if I died and not Cass. They don’t really have proof of my life. I have a whopping hundred and eighty-seven thousand followers on Instagram, but I don’t care. I don’t upload, but they still stalk me, wanting information.
Cassidy had nearly half a million followers and blessed their timelines at least two times a day. When he died, his account skyrocketed, and people would tell stories about how he changed their lives and how they were close. All bullshit. It drove me nuts when they acted like my brother meant something more than a follow on a page. He was my best friend. We were close. They were fakes, and it grated on my nerves.
I’ll admit it. After he died, I stalked all his socials just to feel closer to him. To reiterate, it would be sad if I died. There’s no proof of my existence.
“Oh my god!” Mel exclaims, throwing me out of my reverie. She holds her phone as if it’s precious, and that’s so unnerving.
“What?” I ask, unsure why she would be all excited.
“Ridge Clemonte is in Raleway,” she mentions. “That’s near Tremington.” It’s almost a whisper, like she doesn’t know how to act at this information. Or maybe it’s this new weird dynamic of her crushing on a psychopath that has me uncomfortable. It’s not because I think he’ll hurt her. It has everything to do with the green monster inside of me who wants to keep him to myself
.
“Cool,” I mutter, but I’m not happy he’s here. That means he’s doing sketchy shit since he’s from Arcadia, and there’s nothing out here for him.
What’s your end game, Ridge?
“What’s wrong?” She turns to me, her face scrunching in displeasure.
I hate that I’m an open book sometimes. People like Mel and Bridger and anyone else who point out flaws are able to notice the little things. I stare at her, wondering what she could possibly see in him. He’s not nice. He’s not sweet, and he’s definitely not a charmer.
Taking another long drink of water, I flinch at the coldness of the liquid as it slithers down my throat.
Then why do you like him? The niggling in my head probes that lack of truth. To me, he’s something different. He doesn’t treat me like everyone else.
Worse. He treats you worse.
“I just thought it’d be us and your family,” I lie almost patronizingly, hating how it sounds petty.
She almost seems to not believe me but chooses not to comment on it, anyway. “Don’t worry. It’ll just be us trying to avoid the twins because I promise once you meet them, you’ll be begging for some quality time with Ridge Clemonte. They’re insufferable.”
“Hardly. I’d rather put a fork in my eye and use it as a meatball than spend any unnecessary time with Bridger.”
“Whoa. That was a little graphic.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’d rather electrocute myself in a bathtub and become a French fry.”
She cringes.
“Better?”
“I’m not going to say you have problems, but, girl, you have problems.”
I let out a disparaging laugh. “I’m very much aware.”
While she goes back to her phone, I stare at the plains of open fields, wondering where the hell I am and why does a mob boss not seem the type to be in a field like this. Does he bury his kills here? I mean, it would be the perfect place.
Why are you the way you are?
I really need to stop talking to myself.
Looking at my cell, I see the time. Usually, it would be time to take my medicine. Now, I’m realizing food needs to be my next priority.
“Can we order pizza?” I ask.
“While driving?” Mel questions, amusement lining her brows.
Here Lives a Corpse: A Dark Bully Academy Romance (Here Lies Book 1) Page 21