Blake stopped filming, tucking his phone away as he glared at me with victory in his eyes. There was so much hate in them too, I could feel it as powerfully as the storm against my flesh. How was this the same guy who’d kissed me so passionately a few nights ago? Had made me laugh and been so full of warmth it had burned right through me?
I felt worthless as I waited for the first axe to fall. The first command to hit my ears. I lifted a hand to wipe the tears from my cheeks, wishing I’d had the strength to keep them from falling.
What do they want from me? What are they going to demand?
“If you break the rules, we’ll ruin you,” Saint warned, a manic flare in his gaze. It was almost like he wanted me to go against him. “You and any friend, acquaintance or fucking mosquito who takes a liking to you.”
I nodded, pressing my lips together and continued to wait for whatever bullshit order they were going to give me.
“What do you want?” I growled when they said nothing, just stared at me like I was a piece of meat on their plate they were deciding whether to eat or not. My eyes skipped between the three of them. I knew I’d agreed to play along, but what the hell did they want from me out here in a thunderstorm?
“Stay here on the beach until we come back for you,” Saint said simply, his lips tipping up into his infamous psycho smile. He directed the other guys ahead of him, but Kyan lingered on the beach as Saint and Blake swept past him.
“You’re gonna just leave me here in the rain?” I called in horror. “For how long?” My heart drummed to a war beat in my chest at the idea of staying out here. I was soaked through already in only my uniform. Not even a coat.
None of them answered, but Saint looked to Kyan and snarled, “Come on.”
Kyan gazed at me for a long moment and I was caught in the intensity of his eyes, seeing the hesitation in him to leave me here.
“Kyan, please,” I breathed just for him, wondering if there was any decency in the guy before me.
“Now, Kyan!” Saint snapped and Kyan dropped my gaze and turned away from me, heading after them into the trees.
I shivered as the rain blew around me, soaking me through in moments. The last of the light was draining from the world and I felt my own light fading with it. It was unbearably cold already and the beach was so exposed, I couldn’t see anywhere to hide from the downpour.
Thunder boomed overhead once more and adrenaline washed into my blood. I dragged in a breath as I hunted for somewhere to take shelter. I spotted a small tree where the beach rose up towards the mountain, blowing in the tempest and I ran over to it. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give me a bit of cover as I dropped down to sit beneath it, hugging my legs to my chest.
My shoulders shivered as I stared out at the dark lake, its surface a myriad of ripples as the raindrops pelted it. I fought the shadow of fear that was looming over me. Because if I was going to stick to the Night Keepers’ rules, then they could leave me out here all night.
Tears rushed hot and fast down my cheeks as fear cleaved my heart apart.
I missed my dad. I hated that he was gone. I hated that I didn’t know where he was. And I hated that I had no explanation, nothing to cling onto except the belief in my heart that he was innocent. But most of all I hated that he’d left me behind. And now the world was falling to ruin and I had no one here to face it at my side.
I shuddered, closing my eyes and falling back into that safe space inside me, telling myself over and over again, I made the right choice. I made the right choice. I made the right choice, until the cold wasn’t so sharp and the fear in my heart loosened its claws.
I was a survivor. And I’d survive this. I had to.
We sat around the fireplace in The Temple, drinking heavily while Saint blasted some seriously intense classical music which he announced was by a guy called Antonio Vivaldi. He sat with his eyes closed as he leaned back in his enormous wingback chair which we’d nicknamed his throne, a glass of stupidly expensive neat vodka dangling from his fingertips as he bathed in his victory. Our victory.
Blake was dancing before the fire, laughter tearing from his lips as he stumbled over his own feet. We’d all torn our wet capes off when we got back here and none of us had bothered to put shirts on as we stayed close to the raging fire and let it dry us and warm us through. We looked like savages with the paint still marking our skin and I couldn’t really disagree with that description.
Thunder crashed outside, loud enough to be heard over the deep base of whatever the fuck this next song was. I’d never admit it, but living with Saint had kinda made me love this classical shit. There was something so pure and intense and real about it. It really got my blood pumping and my mind firing. Sometimes, when I was beating a guy’s head in, I could hear the crash and bang of cymbals and the pure rhythm of one of his favourites in my head as my fists pounded in time with it. There was a beauty to it alright. Not that I’d ever tell Saint that.
Rain pelted against the stained glass window which dominated the room and I looked up at it as lightning lit the sky again and illuminated the crucifix, giving me a brief view of the roiling clouds beyond the red and orange panes that made up the huge crucifix.
I tongued my cheek, lifting my bottle of Jack to my lips but only taking the smallest of sips.
“How long are we leaving her out in that?” I asked. It had been hours already and I was starting to wonder if she could actually survive out there much longer.
“All fucking night if I deem it so,” Saint replied cockily.
“Naw,” I said slowly. “She’d die out in that all night. Girl was barely dressed as it was.”
“So let her die,” Blake said bitterly, chugging down even more booze as he threw his head back and sang to the classical music. It didn’t have words so we were gifted with him replicating the bum, bum, bums. I doubted he really meant it though, he was just too wasted to think straight and I could practically see his grief shining out of his eyes despite the display he was putting on.
“Seems a bit easy,” I commented, ignoring that twist in my gut at his words.
If they hated Tatum Rivers this much just for being related to some asshole, then I wondered what they’d think of me if my secrets ever came to light? There were shadows in me that ran deeper than my bones and secrets I didn’t even dare whisper alone in the dark. If they knew the truth, would their love for me fall apart and give way to hatred? They were certainly more inclined to hate than love. All three of us were. There was a beauty in that. But a rot too. Hate could drive the purest of things to ruin.
I wanted to believe I was their brother. More than just a brother. That our bond went soul deep. Far further than blood. But was it really so simple? I only knew I needed them far too much to test it. Without the other Night Keepers, I was nothing. Less than nothing now. My name didn’t even mean shit anymore.
Hell, when they found that out they might cut me out of our circle of three. And I had secrets far more ruinous than the decision I’d made about my family this summer.
No. I wouldn’t be telling them any time soon. And that knowledge made me feel a little uneasy about what we were doing to Tatum Rivers.
We’d done shit to plenty of people before. Far worse shit than commanding them to stand out in the freezing rain all night. But they’d deserved it one way or another. There was always something that I could point to and say this right here is why. But Tatum? She hadn’t done shit to anyone. Only been born of a scumbag. And I could relate to that. If we were going to be punished for the crimes of our fathers, then I was destined to burn in hell for all of eternity and then some.
But there was no point in me saying that to Saint and Blake right now. Blake was angry and grieving and rightfully so. And as fucked up as it was, I preferred to see him dance in victory than try and stop him from taking things too far with the new girl. If her sacrifice was required in order to right the wrong that had been done to him, then that was fine. I’d end her myself if I believed it
would bring him relief. He’d gone above and beyond for me far too many times and I was overdue a repayment.
And Saint…well, Saint needed power like a whore needed sex. He needed to bring everyone around him to heel. He had to feel the weight of his enormous balls dragging him down as everyone else bowed to the top dog. He wasn’t like me and Blake in that regard. We’d been broken by life and the people who’d brought us into it in one way or another. Saint had been born broken. Like there was some vital piece missing from him. And because of that emptiness, he was consumed with hunger and a need to fill that hole. He fed on the pain and suffering of others because he struggled to appreciate other people’s emotions at all. Most emotions were hard to label, hard to feel if they weren’t your own. But pain? Real, honest agony of the heart? He could almost taste it when he dealt it out to someone. I swear if demons existed, Saint would be one that devoured souls.
I sometimes wondered if he’d ever find what he was hunting for. Ever satisfy that hunger. Or if it would eventually consume him too. Not on my watch though. All the time Saint needed victims, I was happy to provide them. I had a talent for it. For sniffing out someone twisted and dirty enough to warrant the attention of the Night Keepers. That was how I’d first figured out what Monroe was, though of course I hadn’t ever used it like that against him.
Sad as it was, our Coach was the third and final person in the world who I truly counted as a friend. Who truly knew me. He saw my monster and helped me feed it. And I saw his too. So did the others, even if they wouldn’t acknowledge it. That was why they never pushed back against his rules, let him set the laws in his classes and on the pitch. I wasn’t even sure Saint realised that he allowed Coach to tell him what to do so much. But he did. He fell into line at the blast of a whistle like the rest of us.
And why? It wasn’t like there was any difference between his position and those of the other teachers; Saint could have put him under his thumb a long time ago if he’d had a mind to. One way or another. I doubted he could have intimidated Monroe into submission, but he used his money and influence like a weapon just as often. His mom ran the school board, he could have taken his job from him. But he didn’t, he played ball with him. Because whether Saint had noticed or not, there was a fourth monster in this school and we gravitated towards him just as we did to each other. It was only his position as staff that kept him from connecting with us fully.
Thunder boomed overhead again and I swear the walls of the fucking church shuddered at the might of the storm.
There was no shelter out on that beach. Nothing at all aside from that rock.
If Tatum Rivers was still out there, she was soaked through and risking hypothermia. And if she wasn’t, then I could only imagine what Saint would do to her in punishment.
She’d sworn an oath, promised herself to us, given herself freely. Even if her eyes had burned with pure loathing the whole time. And I didn’t hate the idea of owning that girl. Of making every little decision for her, having her at my beck and call. There was a rush to be had there.
The deal made it clear that sex was off the cards and I was glad about that. I didn’t want a girl sucking my cock because she had to. I wanted her on her knees and begging for it because she just needed to taste me so fucking much that it burned her up. I wanted her to feel like she’d die if she didn’t find out what it felt to have my flesh grinding against hers or my name spilling from her lips in ecstasy.
Saint pushed out of his throne with a devilish smile on his face as he retrieved his vodka from the coffee table.
“Drink it from the bottle,” I urged, catching his eye and smirking at the disgust the mere idea of that brought to his chiselled features. He made a move to pour the vodka into his glass and I spoke quickly before he could, “Or are you too chicken shit to take your liquor like a big boy?”
“Fuck you. Why don’t you drink from a glass? You could at least pretend to be civilised sometimes,” he growled in response.
“Deal.” I snatched the glass from his hand and poured a healthy measure of Jack into the bottom.
Saint visibly shuddered as he raised the bottle of vodka to his lips. Even the fact that the thing had cost him the best part of two hundred dollars couldn’t help him to stomach the reality of what he was doing.
I hooked my cellphone from my pocket and snapped a photo as he tipped his head back. Luck was firmly on my side and lightning flashed through the stained glass window behind him just as I took the shot. His dark skin was still painted with the shit we’d used to scare Tatum, and he bore mine and Blake’s handprints either side of his heart.
“Fuck,” I said as I looked at the photo, impressed with my own skills. “You really do look like one of the Night Keepers in this.”
“Where?” Blake demanded, tripping over his feet as he came to squint at the screen.
“Wow, I’m not even a girl and I’m wet for you in that, Saint,” he joked, panting like a dog.
“Take one of me!” he demanded, flexing his muscles as he stood before the fire and I did just to shut him up. His eyes were half-mast and he had a dopey as shit smile on his face that would have really damaged his reputation with the girls if they saw it. I couldn’t wait to send him a hundred copies of it one after another in the morning while he nursed his hangover.
“Don’t post that shit of me necking vodka like a hillbilly,” Saint warned, pointing at me like he thought I was heading straight to social media to tag ourselves like a bunch of thirteen year old girls having a slumber party.
“I don’t post anything online,” I reminded him, rolling my eyes. Sure, I had an account and people were constantly posting photos of me and tagging me in shit, but I didn’t interact on it. Ever. I basically only had it so that I could use messenger to contact my so-called friends who lived down in Murkwell whenever there was a fight night coming up.
No, I wasn’t posting that shit anywhere, but it was about to become my new screensaver for sure. I quickly saved it, snorting a laugh as I imagined Saint’s face when I casually left my phone where he could see it in class tomorrow. He was gonna lose his fucking mind.
I strolled away as Saint went in hunt of another glass, cursing me for stealing his in a voice that slurred just a little. The two of them were getting lit, but I was finding it hard to chase my buzz.
I dropped my untouched glass of Jack on the dining table and placed the bottle down beside it as I abandoned my drinking habit for the night. I was only ever three kinds of drunk. Bloodthirsty drunk. Party animal drunk. Or self destructive drunk. Right now I was on the path to number three. And number three came with a real ass eater of a hangover and a dollop of self hatred thrown in. I didn’t like the sound of that for my future so I cut myself off.
The wind changed so that the rain hammered against the stained glass window and I pouted like a little bitch as I watched it sliding down the glass.
Saint had stayed on his feet, tipping his head back to roar at the vaulted ceiling like a motherfucking beast. Blake followed his lead and I moved to join them with a smile that was only half forced.
“I am the dark in the dead of the night!” Saint yelled, cupping a hand around his mouth.
“Hear me roar!” I shouted alongside Blake. It was some bullshit we’d come up with as kids which liked to resurface whenever Saint flipped the switch past hammered to wasted.
Blake started laughing, draining his drink before dropping down into Saint’s throne with his eyes hooded.
I moved closer as Saint continued to jump about to the classical insanity that was assaulting our ears and I couldn’t help but love him even more than usual as I watched him cutting loose.
Blake watched too, the smile slowly slipping from his face until all I could see was his pain.
“Fuck my life,” he murmured like he didn’t expect anyone to be listening and my gut twisted sharply at his words.
“C’mon, man,” I said to him, offering a hand as he looked up at me with a hollow expression. “Time to sl
eep it off.”
Blake let me heave him to his feet, dropping his glass into his chair as he threw an arm around my shoulders and I half dragged him to his room at the back of the building. We passed down a short hallway where there were two doors waiting for us.
I swung Blake through the first door into his room and crossed the huge space which he’d decorated in blue tones. There were trophies everywhere and photographs of him winning all kinds of shit. It was kinda sad really because no one saw this room but him and us. His dad had been a little too heavy on the winners always prosper shit as he was growing up and it had given him an addiction to competing.
I dropped him on the bed and he laughed as he looked up at me. “You gonna have your wicked way with me Kyan?” he joked. “Can you be gentle though ‘cos I’ve never been with anyone as big as you…”
“In more ways than one, baby,” I replied, grabbing my junk as I laughed at him.
Blake chuckled as his eyes fell shut and I headed into the Jack and Jill bathroom that connected our bedrooms. I’d seen that dude naked more times than I could count after accidentally forgetting to lock both doors. It had gotten to the point where neither of us bothered to lock them now and we just averted our eyes.
I headed into my room and grabbed a gym bag from behind the door. My space was a lot less interesting than Blake’s. It was pretty bare aside from the heap of school work which sat on my desk. I had no plans to complete any of it really. I got good enough grades and I liked to think of homework as optional.
There was a limited edition guitar leaning against my wall too which might have been interesting if it was mine. But it wasn’t. I’d taken it from some asshole busker who’d pissed me off with his pop bullshit. Dude was crying when I took it. That shit was still funny.
The walls were white and the bed unmade. I didn’t see any particular need for the room to be anything more than practical so I hadn’t done anything to decorate it. It was as empty as my heart.
Kings of Quarantine: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep Book 1) Page 19