Brown hugged his hand to his chest, trying to get his composure back, but he looked like a far smaller man than he had when he’d walked in. I was shocked into silence as I stood there, having no idea what to do.
“It’s your choice,” Blake said in a cold voice, moving forward to rub shoulders with Saint again. Kyan pulled me forward too, lining me up beside him. Brown’s eyes slid to me, his features twisting as he marked me out as one of them. I wanted to scream that I wasn’t, that I hated them as much as he clearly did. But I’d only be punished for it. And I didn’t think I’d enjoy it this time.
Brown clenched his jaw, his eyes whipping back and forth along the four of us. “This isn’t over. Mark my words.” He turned and stalked out of the building and a ragged breath escaped my lungs.
Saint adjusted his tie then walked straight back over to the breakfast table to finish his meal, acting like he’d never been interrupted. Blake slid onto the couch to watch TV and I stood there, realising my hand was still locked in Kyan’s grip. I glanced up at him under my lashes and he mouth twitched at the corner.
“We look after our own,” he said in a low voice. “It’s cutthroat, baby, but it’s how we survive. We’re extending that to you, so you’d better remember to offer the same courtesy.” He released my hand and I was left in the wake of his threat. Or had it been a reassurance?
It struck me that the Night Keepers did have a survival plan after all. They were the type of beasts that could make the most powerful of people quake in the night. And it only worked because they were so unquestionably unified. If you were their enemy, so fucking help you. I knew that better than anyone. And somehow, I was sure the worst was yet to come.
***
I made it through a relatively painless day at school considering the fact that most people simply ignored my existence. The Night Keepers threatened anyone who even looked at me for too long, so I at least didn’t have to worry about getting called names anymore. For reasons beyond my comprehension, they didn’t want anyone abusing their precious little pet but them.
My phone buzzed as I made it to the lake, hoping to steal an hour or so to myself in the Hemlock Library. But fate was not on my side.
King of the Fuckwits:
Come to The Temple. It’s time to learn the rules.
I clenched my jaw, sending him a squid emoji just to mess with him. He couldn’t get mad at it; it was harmless. But I knew it would piss him off all the same.
I headed back to The Temple, dragging my heels until I pushed through the door and prepared myself for another evening in hell.
Kyan and Blake were sprawled on the couch playing video games again. They didn’t even look up as I entered, but the two of them raised their hands and pointed toward the upper level where Saint’s room was located.
“Thanks underlings,” I taunted, breezing past them and feeling their resulting glares following me.
I headed up the wooden stairway and my heart started to pound out of rhythm as I reached the top. This space felt sacred, off limits. And being summoned here was just another power play. The first thing I knew as I reached the balcony was that Saint dominated this room.
The exposed, grey brick walls were bare and a huge circular, stained glass window cast the enormous bed before it in blue and green light; a tree was featured in the ornate image, a juicy red apple hanging down enticingly from a branch to seemingly perch above Saint’s head.
Everything in the space was immaculate. From the rack of vinyl beside a freaking old school record player to the single nightstand and organised dark wood desk.
Saint stood at the end of the bed in a smart shirt and slacks, his hands clasped behind his back and his body haloed in light like he was an angel. It was a twisted kind of joke that didn’t amuse me in the slightest.
My gaze fell on my suitcase which was parked at the side of his room beside a closet.
“This transition has been sloppy,” Saint spoke, breaking the silence but increasing the tension in the air tenfold.
I put on a mask of indifference, stepping further into the room and brushing my finger over the record player as if checking it for dust. I frowned at my hand then wiped it down my blazer.
“Tut tut, you need a cleaner.” It was spotless of course, but Saint’s right eye twitched as he glanced over at the record player with a glimmer of doubt in his gaze.
He cleared his throat, continuing with whatever the hell he’d been saying. “You haven’t been given clear guidelines of how this is going to work. So I’m going to set that straight right now.”
My ears pricked up as I looked to him, slowing to a halt and folding my arms. I left a good few feet of room between us; I didn’t wanna get too close to this snake in case it decided to bite.
“You will now wait outside the crypt at six am sharp, every day. No exceptions. You will kneel outside the door and say nothing until I address you after my workout.”
I bit down on my tongue, rage burning hot inside me like lava. “What’s the point?”
“The point,” he said in a level yet sharp tone. “Is to learn obedience, structure, routine.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes and his glare nearly scolded me.
“At seven thirty am you will make breakfast for each of us. It will be on the table by eight. No sooner, no later.”
I tongued my cheek, wanting to refute every single order he gave me. But I was going to be forced to do this one way or the other. I had to go along with this bullshit until I could pick apart their little gang one thread at a time. It wasn’t my usual style. Patience was a virtue and all, it just wasn’t one I’d been gifted with. But for these fuckers’ downfall, I could wait a millennia.
“By eight fifteen you will be in the shower,” he went on. “And at eight thirty sharp you will come up here in nothing but this robe.” He turned to his bed, picking up a white silk robe lying there and handing it to me on the hanger.
“What?” I breathed, a flicker of concern running through me. “I’m not coming up here in that.”
“Yes you are,” he growled, his tone allowing no room for an argument. “If I wanted to fuck you, I’d have you come up here in a lot less, Barbie.”
My spine straightened as I snatched the robe from his hand, tossing it over my arm. I’d be making sure that it got good and creased by the time he saw me in it.
“Then what?” I snapped.
“Then…” He smiled, jerking his head to make me follow him as he headed to the closet across the room.
I stepped after him out of sheer curiosity and as he pushed the door to the closet open, my breathing hitched. I even entered his personal space and inhaled his brimstone scent as I surveyed the large room. On the left were Saint’s clothes - smart suits, sweatpants, shirts and perfectly ironed uniforms with folded ties and even folded freaking boxers.
On the right, the entire space had been filled with beautiful designer clothes. Dresses and tops of silk, lace, cashmere. Then the finest denim jeans, harem pants, shorts, skirts, workout gear. I recognised some of my own clothing from my suitcase, but most of it looked new. There were uniforms too, perfectly ironed, just like his. But there was one addition to them. Beneath the Everlake crest, threaded there in gold were the words, Property of the Night Keepers.
My upper lip curled back at the words and my neck prickled as I felt Saint closing the space behind me. He toyed with a lock of my hair and I shuddered as he pressed a finger to my spine, running it straight down the length of my back. Goosebumps exploded across my skin and I despised myself for the physical reaction I had to his touch. The wildest part of me couldn’t help but get hot for Saint Memphis. He was the ultimate bad deed. And she wanted to commit it hard. Not that I’d ever freaking let her.
My gaze fell on the underwear at the far end of the long closet and I scowled.
I stepped toward it with my jaw falling slack. The most lavish lingerie I’d ever seen filled the shelves. It was all delicate, sexy, fifty shades worthy.
&
nbsp; “This is too far.” I spun around with fury in my heart. “I have my own clothes. I’ll wear your stupid uniforms if you want, but this stuff.” I gestured to the incredible array of things. Sure, if I’d been gifted them under any other circumstances I would have been thrilled. But I wasn’t going to let this asshole dress me.
Saint’s eyes turned to pitch and I was suddenly very aware of being alone with him in here. He strode toward me and I pressed my back to the wall in an attempt to put as much distance between us as possible. But he kept coming.
“I decide what’s too far and what isn’t,” he growled, his voice driving shards of ice right into my soul. “You’re going to be the best dressed Barbie doll in the world. My doll.”
A lump rose in my throat and for a moment I wondered what had happened to this guy to make him like this. To need to control everything and everyone around him. The money he must have spent to get me these things was absurd. And why he felt the need to do it was so beyond my grasp, it was as if we were different species.
“Why?” I blurted, sure he’d never answer, but I couldn’t fight my curiosity. “I don’t understand.”
His brows rose ever-so-slightly and he drew in a slow breath. “I like things a certain way-”
“But why?” I cut over him and his eyes flashed dangerously, but there was a dark kind of desire there too that made my thighs clench together.
“It’s just how I am,” he said simply.
“Liar.” I gave him my cheek, staring at the row of shirts to my right which were coordinated from white through ivory to every shade of grey, all the way down to black. He had a real colour fetish it seemed.
His shadow surrounded me and he caught my jaw, turning me back to look at him. His fingers were firm, but not painful and the look in his eyes was full of something very almost human.
“Control is power. Without that, what’s the point of life?” He seemed to want a genuine answer to that question and my brow furrowed as I tried to concentrate. With his fresh, apple scent and icy touch making my thoughts blurry, it was difficult to manage. But I did.
“Enjoyment? Compassion? Friends? Family? Love?”
He tsked, half rolling his eyes at me. “Most people in this world will stab you in the back and claw their way over your dead corpse to take everything you own. Most of your so-called friends would do it in a heartbeat. Your family too. There are a minute number of people in life who you can truly rely on, your job is to figure out who they are fast then learn how to be the most powerful one amongst them to keep them in check.”
I gave him a look of pity because if that was really what he thought life was about, we were never going to understand each other. And he was never going to be happy. Not that I was too bothered about that part. At least the bastard was miserable, though he probably didn’t even realise it.
He released my chin, running his hand over his short hair as he kept himself perfectly composed. I wondered if he ever let his inhibitions slip. I couldn’t imagine what that would look like. He was as rigid as the tin man and just as heartless.
He headed back into his room and I turned to the lingerie, picking up a little black thong. Sure, it was hot. I mean, I wasn’t exactly complaining about the quality of this shit. I loved wearing stuff like this. But I never wore it because someone told me to, I wore it to feel good. Was he going to expect a freaking catwalk in it? Because there was no chance in hell of that happening.
“Come out,” he called and I cursed him under my breath as I exited the closet and found him leaning on the balcony railing.
I moved to his side, my eyes falling to Kyan and Blake on the couch below. They didn’t seem remotely interested in this side of things. Kyan liked the thrill of telling me what to do and me fighting back before I did it, but he didn’t get off on controlling me down to the colour of my freaking underwear. No, that special weirdness was just Saint’s style. And Blake? Well I didn’t think he cared what they did with me so long as I ended up hurt by it. He wanted me bleeding and I imagined if I ever got too comfortable in this place, he’d soon make sure that didn’t last.
Saint’s hand fell to the base of my spine and I worked hard to keep my breathing even as he moved closer. “You will return here after classes every day. If you have work to do, you can do it at my desk up here.”
I shook my head, turning to him sharply enough to knock his hand off of my back. “How am I going to concentrate on my work with three hell hounds breathing down my neck? I need some time to spend in the library. Some space.”
His lips became tight. “If you prove your obedience, you can earn yourself privileges like that. But for now, you will return here as soon as classes are out and remain here unless one of us says otherwise.”
I ground my teeth together, the sound gnawing at my ears.
“Stop grinding your teeth,” Saint instructed sharply and my hands tightened around the railing.
“If I stop grinding them, a lot of insults are gonna pour out, Saint, is that what you’d prefer?”
“What did I say about using our names?” he hissed and my pulse spiked as I glared at him.
Part of me wondered if he’d spank me again and that part was also down on her knees, flipping up her skirt and begging for it. Shit – no. Don’t let this sadistic beast into your fantasies.
“Sorry, master,” I said dryly. So dryly my mouth felt like a cactus was growing in it. It did not feel good to use that word. It felt like cutting off a piece of my soul and handing it to him.
He smirked, nodding his head in approval and that felt like a slap to the face.
I am not made to bow.
“When is your waxing next due?” he asked casually as if that was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask a person.
“None of your damn business,” I said indignantly.
“Your business is now my business,” he snarled and I pursed my lips as he fixed me with a warning stare that made my heart beat wildly.
“I got laser hair removal back in California,” I said through my teeth.
“Good,” he said, his eyes brightening – and by brighten I mean they went from a soul-filled pit of hell to the inky swirl of the River Styx.
“Any other personal questions you have no right to know the answer to that you wanna air?” I asked lightly, though my insides were knotting and fraying.
“How often does your hair need dyeing?” he asked, apparently wanting this information more than he wanted to rise to my tone.
“This is natural,” I said, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “And you will not be cutting it, or dyeing it, master.” I threw in the last word just to soften the demand I’d just made. I knew if he wanted that, he’d force it. But I would fight tooth and nail for my hair. It was more than just hair, it was my identity. It was the one thing I shared with my sister.
He fisted a hand in that identity suddenly, yanking until I yelped and forcing me even closer to him. “I’ll do whatever I want to it, Barbie. But luckily for you, I happen to like it like this. So long as you keep it clean and styled.”
I fought to keep my features still as he tightened his grip in my hair, trying not to let him see my pain.
He released me suddenly and I battled the urge to rub the sore patch on my scalp. He was a hair-pulling asshat. Had he never grown out of playground games? But maybe he knew pulling someone’s hair was demeaning and effective in belittling them.
“I want a full list of the wash products you require. I like how you smell, I want you to stay that way. Do not use any of Blake or Kyan’s shower products,” he commanded and I nodded my agreement at that one. I didn’t wanna smell like any of them anyway.
“And just to be clear, when we said you belong to us mind, body and soul we meant it. Which means that your body belongs to us. As such, no one is allowed to touch it without our permission.”
My lips popped open. “So you’re gonna make sure I’m miserable and can’t even get laid to take the edge off?”
He chuckled d
arkly. “Oh you can get laid if you want, Barbie doll. Just take your pick of which hate fuck you’d like to receive from us first.” His eyes glittered like a night sky and my upper lip peeled back in disgust.
I stepped closer to him, invading his precious space for once. “I might play along with your little game, master, but the day I come crawling into any of your beds will be a cold day in hell.”
His eyes lit with my words like I’d struck a match against the coarse exterior of his blackened heart. “You won’t just come crawling, Tatum Rivers, you’ll come begging, aching and soaking.” I opened my mouth to dispute that claim, a rush of anger burning through me, but he looked away with a bored expression. “You’re dismissed,” he wafted me away like I was some homeless person begging for money. Not that I’d personally treat a homeless person like that, but Saint no doubt would.
I lingered there for a long moment with rage eating me up, then took a breath and headed toward the stairs.
It occurred to me that Harry Potter had had it easy in comparison to the Lord Coldemort who was currently making my life a misery. At least Harry had had friends. And Dumbledore. Man, I wish I had a Dumbledore. I supposed Monroe kinda counted. He was like a hot Dumbledore you wanted to Slytherin to bed with and suck his Elder wand.
I paused before I headed downstairs. There was one thing I really wanted to get back out of everything they’d taken from me. My backpack had that freaking gun in it plus my letters to Jessica. I couldn’t see Saint giving it to me for anything less than one thing. The lowest card I could play and yet the most powerful one girls had against boys. My period.
“Um, master?” I asked sweetly, that word tasting sour on my tongue.
Saint narrowed his eyes, not swallowing my bullshit.
“Is there any chance I could get my backpack? It’s just…my tampons are in it and-”
He held up a hand to stop me right there with a sharp frown. Yep, as predicted, even Saint Memphis wasn’t going to mess with a woman’s time of the month.
Kings of Quarantine: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep Book 1) Page 33