Then, he’s pushing into me. His lips connect with mine in a furious takeover. He bites hard, the split forming soon after. Blood as rusty and bitter as ever fills my senses. That’s how it will be for us, rouge battlegrounds to lay our swords upon and paint them effervescent before the true war begins.
His tongue swipes against me, tasting the shared flavor of our loathing. It’s bitter and sweet, a delicious combination of hate and lust. His hand wraps around my throat as we both lower back onto the bed. His legs box my hips in, and when I thrust against him, he growls like a beast untamed. He can act unfazed, get pissed, and even yell profanities until he can’t see straight, but as our mouths demolish one another, there’s no denying we both have pent-up issues only we have the answers to.
When we break apart, he jumps off me as if I’ve stabbed him. He wipes the remnants of my blood from his mouth with his perfectly messed-up button up, smearing the color around like paint. Then, he smirks and grimaces all at once.
“Don’t ever fucking kiss me again, Walker. You’re not Maxim, and you never will be.”
“Your dick doesn’t seem to be able to tell the difference,” I mock, pointing at his tented slacks, “but don’t worry, Lennox. If I wanted your ass, I’d take it.”
His eyes narrow before he turns away.
When he slams the door to my room, I touch my lips, feeling the swell of them. My fingers graze the cut and feel the blood coating them. I’ll bed Lennox in due time, but he won’t be my only victory. A green-haired she-devil is on my list, too.
Fuck the Limpieza de Sangre. Purifying the blood won’t happen until we find out who killed Cassidy, and since none of the guys seem to know, we’re stuck wondering who the Judas is and if we’ll survive another betrayal.
Trust no one, my father always says. Rise above. Slaughter those who contend. Never, ever disgrace the family name.
What’s another mark against me? Maxim didn’t die for anything special. He died because he liked sticking his dick in Lennox DeLeon.
The difference between my brother and I? I’ll never get caught.
Thirty-Seven
“Tonight?” Mel asks, two weeks later, as she’s scrolling through her phone.
I stare at her from the space at my desk. I’m doing my final for Psych, and I’ve got to explain why Jeffrey Dahmer decided to eat people, but how do I explain a person’s motive when it seemed to be a brain dysfunction rather than the desire to consume human flesh?
“Winter break isn’t for another week,” I mention, not knowing where her head space is.
“They just announced on the Arcadia Post that they’re leaving for a Student Government meeting for funding.”
“What do they need funding for?” I scoff. “They’re like the rest of us, wealthy, wanting for nothing.”
She eyes me, directing her phone screen my way, showing me their post. Her face is curious, but there’s also a little thrill in her eyes. She wants something without saying what that is.
“I can ask Ridge. See where he’s going?” she offers a moment later.
I hide the way I feel about that particular suggestion. It makes me angry and possessive of him when there’s no reason for it. He’s hers now. She took him, and I have no hold over him anymore. If I ever did.
“Do that,” I say nonchalantly, but in reality, I want to tell her to fuck off.
Right as I’m about to check the message board for any other posts, I notice a text from the twins. Are you coming to Tennessee, or do we have to come to you, sweetheart?
A smile breaks free, and for a moment, I forget what I’m trying to find out and what I’m supposed to be doing.
“What has you grinning like that?” Mel’s voice sounds out.
Fuck. When she finds out I’m keeping in touch with them, she’s going to freak the fuck out.
“Yang wants me to video chat with her this weekend.”
Her face falls a little. “The old best friend,” she emphasizes.
I want to roll my eyes. They’ve never met each other, and they both seem to want to be nowhere in the same vicinity. Neither have said it, but how they avoid each other when I’m on the phone with either of them is more than telling.
“Yeah,” I lie, smiling at the newest texts.
Better not be ignoring me, Colt, or I’ll have to redden your ass. My phone vibrates with Justice’s text.
Then I’ll add more strikes just because I’m your favorite, and you can’t ignore me too. Prudence adds.
It takes everything in me to not laugh, but I feel the heat flame my face.
Responding quickly, I nervously look around for Mel. With Mel. Talk to you soon.
Instead of letting it go, I get a barrage of images of them sitting together, shirtless, with smirks.
If you two don’t stop... I warn.
I’m really missing you, Just responds.
An image of him comes through. He’s gripping his sweats-clad dick. Then another ping. Unlike Just’s picture, Pru’s dragging down his gym shorts, the veins leading to his thick erection, making my skin heat.
Now, I’m definitely ignoring you. Sending me these without being in touching distance? It’s pouty and bratty, but I mean every word.
Come visit. Just you and us. A week away. Pru tempts me with his text.
I internally groan, wanting only that, but there are things I need to do, to find out, like information about the Emerald Vestige, about the guys, and my brother’s murder. I can’t keep delaying it over guys.
“You should invite her over tonight. She could help us,” Mel suggests, surprising me.
I consider it, thinking of Yang, of how she seemed upset over Cass, but she didn’t believe he was murdered. She thought I was having a mental breakdown, especially when I started cutting and stopped eating. She said I was clinging onto whatever kept his memory alive. She didn’t understand.
“I can,” I say, “if you think another hand will help.”
Mel scrunches her face. “It could. She could be our lookout?”
Instead of doubting it, I text Yang. Whatcha doing?
Her text is immediate. Pretending I’m doing a class assignment for Biochemistry.
Gag.
I know, right?
How busy are you tonight? It’s a nudge. She can be here in thirty minutes from Duponte if she drives.
Are you plotting something, Colty?
Is black my favorite color? Is pizza a lifestyle?
I’ll head out in an hour? I can be there before dinner.
I love how she doesn’t need an explanation. She’s just going to drop everything to come out here. When we would sneak out and get into shit—like we did that one night at the cabin—she never acted as if I was insane. Yang went along with every plan of mine, no matter how asinine it was.
I’m at Ivory now. *eye roll emoji* I’ll buzz you in.
Be there soon. Make sure you have something for me to eat.
It’s as if you don’t know me. I send the last text and look up to find Mel staring at me.
“I’m taking it she’s coming?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “Now, you two can finally meet and be best friends.”
She rolls her eyes at me, but a small smile breaks free. “She can’t be half bad if she likes you.”
“Can’t tell if that’s a compliment.” It comes out sardonic, and I laugh at the way she makes a well... face.
Not long passes before Mel orders a large pan pizza with stuffed crust, garlic crust, and peppers from Gregor’s, an Italian shop at Arcadia Township. Yang agreed to stop and pick the pizza up since we can’t drive out there, and while I’m a rebel on my best days, we’re trying to be covert tonight.
We can’t have anything go wrong.
Pounding at the door interrupts mine and Mel’s watching of Trashtube drama. That’s what we call the shows where commentators and K-pop stans go at it. Hopping up, I rush to the door. When I peer through the peephole, I see Yang standing there.
“Grav
edigger!” Yang yells when I open the door.
She sets the pizza on the coffee table before practically tackle-hugging me. We’re both giggling as we break apart. Like last year, her hair is nearly black. The only thing that makes her appear different is the single neon blue coon tail where her hair parts.
Yang Milton is half-Vietnamese and half-South African. She’s fairer skinned, like me, and short as hell. Her nose is tiny and her lips are full, but unlike me, she’s naturally rail-thin.
“I’ve missed you,” I let out, giving her a once-over.
She’s rocking her skinny jeans, Penn & Co. cashmere sweater, and booties that give her a boost in height.
When Mel comes out from beside me, I smile. “This is Melissa. Mel, this is Yang.”
They awkwardly smile and wave at each other.
After Yang drops her overnight bag in my spare room, she comes back.
“What’s the plan?” Yang asks as we’re all watching Trashtube and shoving pizza down our throats.
I take another bite of the cheesy gooeyness. Raising an eyebrow at Mel, I give her the signal to be a part of the conversation and force her to speak.
“We’re sneaking into the cabin at Moonstone Lake.”
Yang’s eyes go comically wide. She turns her face to me, questions rising but not leaving her lips.
“That didn’t go so well last time,” she mentions. “What are you thinking?”
I scrunch my face, hating the next part of this conversation. She’ll either take it the good way or the way I’m afraid she will. “Cass was murdered.”
She makes a not again face, and then she lets out a breath.
“I’m trying to find out if the Emerald Vestige hid it,” I add before she can say anything.
She gulps. “They’re a myth.”
“They are not. They came after me at Homecoming.”
“No fucking way,” Yang balks, her eyes big and filled with interest.
“They threatened me, and I know they’re involved.” I won’t tell her who. The less she knows, the safer she’ll be.
“So, what are we breaking into the cabin for?”
“When we snuck in that night last year, I caught an initiation,” I mutter, my voice small. My face burns, remembering the way the two guys went at it.
After I watched the Emeralds fuck, I ran back to Crystal and didn’t say a thing to Yang. She got caught by the groundskeeper. He wrote her up for being out after hours, and we never spoke about it again.
“I want to get into that basement and see what I can find on Cass,” I continue. “They said he was an Emerald, that he was initiated.”
“I am shook.” Her eyebrows trail near her hairline, and I feel like she’s finally listening.
“Then six months later, he was murdered. I know it was murder.”
She doesn’t argue or make a face. Yang just nods.
“How about I go to the cabin since I’m no longer a student and can get around easier?”
I look at her, worried. “Alone?”
“Yes. I’m guessing you have a double down plan and that’s why you needed me.”
“It is, but we were just going to hit each one together and take more time.”
“Now, we can get it all done tonight. I’ll go there. If I take too long, come find me.”
“Okay, Mel will be going to Cassidy’s old room in Crystal Tower, and I’ll sneak into the dean’s office.”
Yang and Mel both look at me.
“Alone?” Yang asks.
I laugh at that, because I just asked her that.
“If the coast is clear, Mel can meet me and then maybe you, too. We’ll share the documents and what we find. We’ll meet up at Moonstone Lake, where the big rock is.”
Yang nods, knowing exactly where that is, but Mel stares at me.
“You won’t miss it. It’s huge and unmistakable.”
She nods, and we all put our hands together, getting dressed right after.
When we split up, I feel nervous. This is so dangerous.
Thirty-Eight
We wait for Ivory and the other towers to hit curfew. By the time the lights are out, we go our separate ways. Trailing down the stairs of the tower, a sense of foreboding weighs on me. Chills rack my frame, but I feel my breathing quieting like my body responds to the fear of being heard.
The wind is mellow tonight, but that doesn’t stop my skin from prickling. It hasn’t snowed yet, which is weird for December, but I couldn’t appreciate it more than I do now. It’s cold enough that I couldn’t rock a skirt or dress, so I went for leggings, leg warmers, and a thick jacket. It’s not poofy but warm enough for if the temperature drops too much.
The normal lit area that leads to school is dark now and seems almost eerie. They have night cameras, ones that will detect me even if it’s pitch-black.
My feet crunch the sticks leading to the pathway to Arcadia. My body feels stiff, nerves expanding across every inch of me. I’ve brought a switchblade knife, Mace, a flashlight, and a lock-picking kit I don’t know how to use. My badge should get me in, but in case it doesn’t, I don’t want to fuck this all up.
By the time I hit campus, I’m covered in chills, and the wind has picked up, bringing with it a cold breeze and more worrisome thoughts. Are the others okay? Did they make it? Have they found anything?
Buzzing zips inside my stomach. The pizza isn’t sitting well, and while none of the guys are here, the thought of them lying in wait is present on my mind.
I make it to the front of the school, and I try my badge. The light goes from red to green, and a resounding click fills the air. My breaths plume in front of me noticeably now, making me more aware of the already present chill. Pulling the door open, I realize it’s darker than earlier. I grab my flashlight from my big pocket on the breast of my jacket and close the door behind me.
How can they not have an after-hour lookout?
My mind thinks of all the pranks pulled on everyone over the years—the graffiti, TP-ing of classrooms, and even the students taped naked on the gymnasium floor. It makes sense how people got away with so much shit.
Shining the light down the main hall that leads to the crossroads of every portion of the school, I feel more heaviness on my chest. The fear of being caught isn’t what terrifies me. It’s being alone. If someone killed me in this moment, I would easily disappear. I’m alone, with no witnesses but the cameras and empty halls.
My boots make their normal echoing smack on the linoleum. They’re huge, and I’m a lazy walker, someone who tends to drag more than necessary. At the moment, they’re the loudest part of this mission, and I realize it’s something I need to work on.
Before I can cross the main commons area to go toward the office, my ears pick up a click.
Immediately, my heart races, and I reach for my knife that was tucked in my bra. The thought of whether it would be safer with or without my light hits me square in the chest.
Should I witness my death or be ignorantly slayed?
Before deciding, the choice is made for me. A figure jumps out at me, making me squeal.
A hand covers my mouth, and I’m blinded by darkness as my light clatters onto the floor. I drop my flashlight. No words are spoken as I’m dragged toward a door. With it pitch-black in here, I’m not sure where I’m being led. My heart hammers inside my chest, bringing forth a ringing sensation to my ears, all while my breathing is so erratic I may pass out simply from fear.
I mumble against the hand and realize if I play this correctly, I can attack. My knife is still clamped in my left hand, and I can easily use it to defend myself. A plot forms—stomp to the foot, elbow to the gut, and a quick turn into the attacker with my knife.
Survival may not be my outcome, but no one can ever say I went down without trying.
That’s when the scent of musk, a warmness that reminds me of home and familiarity, hits my nose. I stop all bodily movements, going limp in the arms of my captor. He nearly drops me. Loud grunts fill m
y ear as he struggles to drag my malleable limbs.
“Fuck, Colt. Stop being a pain in the ass,” Lux hisses.
I smile, knowing my realization was right about his scent.
He stands me straight up, and I use that to my advantage, pushing him, but he seems to hit a wall. Flicking open the blade of my knife, I put it out in front of me. The light flickers on, and he stands near the door where my hand is pointed.
He’s disheveled. His eyes are sunken, dark, tired. If he’s been sleeping, it wouldn’t be apparent based simply on his eyes. Lux appears exhausted, and not the kind where sleep can cure and ebb away. It’s the kind that drags on for years, hanging over our heads until we take a blade to our skin, a pill to our mouth, or even a noose to our necks. It’s the scary kind that brings worry, the troublesome anxiety that Lux is close to a cliff.
Walking toward him, I bring the metal beneath his throat to his jaw, not pressing it in but simply showing him I have the power.
“Why are you here?” I question, my words coming out more like a strike than impassive.
“Why are you sneaking out into the school when anyone could hurt you?”
“Don’t deflect, Lux. For once in your goddamn life, drop your mask.”
His eyes shine hauntingly, dropping the “put-together” act they cart around like the pink contacts I wear. “When are you going to get it into your thick skull, Corpse? Stop searching for answers you’ll never get.”
“Then tell me. Stop fucking blowing smoke up my ass and answer me, Lux.” I peer up at him, his mouth so close, so distracting and tempting.
No. He hurt me.
“There’s nothing to say,” Lux hisses, backing away from me, and I let him. “It’s done with. Drop it.”
“He’s dead, Lux! Nothing is done. Not until I have answers.”
He glares at me and pushes forward again, resting his throat against my blade once more. I’ve never seen him look so unhinged and inhuman.
“You will drop this, or someone will get hurt.” He’s pushing into the metal. Blood breaks through his perfectly smooth skin, prickling like the little lies he always tells so well.
“Don’t you dare threaten me!” I hiss harshly, my voice strained with fear and stress.
Here Lives a Corpse: A Dark Bully Academy Romance (Here Lies Book 1) Page 28