Rival (Briarcliff Secret Society Series Book 1)

by Ketley Allison

  Chase pushes my hair back from my face, tracing my eyebrow, then my cheek.

  “On the floor,” I continue. “Behind the bed. I didn’t see her, but I smelled … I smelled the tang of blood. Like that sharp, metal smell that you just know is coming from an open wound. I climbed over the bed and—and there she was, on her back, one arm flung out like this…”

  I find myself in the exact position I found my mom, one hand thrown over my head, the other curled over my stomach. I grimace as she did in her final moments. What she didn’t do was clench her fists. What she couldn’t do was scrunch her eyes shut when her killer pulled the knife out of her chest. And sliced again.

  “Is this what you wanted, Chase? To feed off my lows after pushing me to my high? To test my limits?”

  “No,” he says, and leaves it at that. Or so I think. “My sister used to go here.”

  Chase's calm tone brings me back to reality. I tilt my head, catching him in my view again. He’s eyes are still on me, but the thoughts behind them, they’re not soft. Not hard, either.

  “Emma Loughery,” he adds. “Heard of her?”

  I furrow my brows. The name sounds familiar.

  “She took our mom’s name after the divorce.”

  “The … when your parents separated two years ago?”

  “No. That was Dad’s second escape attempt. His first was with our mother, who he kept around for twelve years, give or take. Dad’s a cold fuck, and my twin sister understood that before I did. I idolized our father for a long time. Too long. Emma saw things in him that clouded her happiness, and she thought leaving Dad behind and going with Mom would give her a fresh start.”

  “I see.” I don’t see. Chase has a twin?

  “Ems ran around with Piper’s crew when she was here,” Chase explains, and I nod, making the connection, except for why Chase is bringing up his sister.

  Then, it clicks. “Why isn’t she here? Was she…?”

  “Killed? No.” Chase falls onto his back, causing the sweet, billowing scent of our sex to float into the air before it settles down again. “She was attacked, though. And was trapped in the library’s fire, before a fireman pulled her own.”

  My fingers knot in my sheets. “Here?”

  Chase nods in my periphery as we both stare at the ceiling. “In the library. The one before the slab of concrete that was built from my family’s pockets.”

  It’s my turn to push onto my elbow and stare down at Chase. His cheek muscles pulse, the curvature of his jaw becoming sharp as a knife. “The old library? The one that burned down?”

  He nods. “Who my sister used to be will always be in the soil under the name of his second wife, who lasted what, two-and-a-half years?”

  My lips fall open.

  Chase slides his gaze to mine. “Told you he was a fucker.”

  “What happened to your sister? To Emma?”

  “She was assaulted in the old library and left for dead. According to the investigative fucktards, no one will ever know who did it. A random event, a stranger break-in, Marron says. No student could’ve done that kind of atrocity.”

  I place my hand on Chase’s arm. I squeeze, but it’s like trying to crush granite between my fingers. “I’m so sorry.” I add, “This is why you’re so invested in Piper. Why you don’t want her forgotten the way your sister was.”

  Chase blinks slowly but keeps our connection. “We all have our motivations. Emma was fun, happy, and wanted a future. Now, she’s one hundred pounds overweight, afraid to leave the house, and refuses to get the help she needs. My father wants to erase her with money. Cast her off to his estate’s basement to rot.”

  I risk laying my head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat. Chase doesn’t push me away, but he doesn’t wrap his arms around me either. It’s simply not what he does.

  Ivy had said the fire involved the most popular girl in school. Chase’s sister.

  It’s Emma’s story that’s tied to the burning of the old library, and Chase’s father is tethered to it, too.

  “Briarcliff has so many sharp edges,” I murmur against his skin.

  “Both times, with Emma, then Piper, I stood by, because I didn’t know.” He combs through my hair, lifting and curling it between his fingers. “It’s not going to happen again.”

  I close my eyes at the lull his massage brings and sigh beneath his hand. “Then tell me about the Nobles or why Piper was a Virtue.”

  His fingers stall in their movements.

  “They’re a part of this,” I push, keeping my eyes closed. It may be because I’m afraid to watch his sated features realign into his iced-over composure. “And now I’m a part of it, too.”

  “I’m keeping you away from it.”

  My eyes open. “You don’t have a say in what I do.”

  “Were you not listening to anything I said? I will not let another girl be destroyed.”

  “That’s all well and good, Prince Not-So-Charming, but I can handle my own.” I sit up, collecting my hair and clearing it from my shoulders. “You’re late to the party, anyway. Someone’s been breaking into my room, and I swear it’s a Cloak.”

  Chase’s expression smooths. “What did you just call them?”

  “I knew it.” I point at him, reposed in bed, but his limbs primed to leap. “The Cloaks are them. The Nobles.” I gather the courage to say what’s been nibbling at the back of my mind since I received the initial rose. No. Since I saw that mysterious envelope on Piper’s desk. “They’re a secret society, aren’t they?”

  Chase snatches my wrist and slams my palm onto his chest. His heart pounds beneath skin, as hard as the bones that cage it. “Feel that? Isn’t that what your heart did when you found your mother? Is it a sickening adrenaline you swore never to have to feel again?”

  I suck in a breath, because he’s much too accurate. That type of pounding, the seasick strain of my heart desperately trying to beat for two … that memory is a terrible mark on my soul I’d pay Satan to remove.

  “Because I endure it every damn day I’m stuck in these school walls, which is why I’m here to remind you, don’t get involved. Your mom’s death was a fucked-up twist of fate and not your fault. Seeking out these Cloaks of yours and testing their boundaries? If you do, the smudge her murder left on your heart will be nothing but a cute butterfly tattoo compared to the mutilation they’ll inflict.”

  “And yet they have nothing to do with Piper or Emma,” I say dryly.

  Chase catches my jaw, holding it as he rises to sit and look me full in the face. “I’ll say it for the last time. No.”

  He releases his grip, and I gasp in a breath, unaware I’d stopped breathing under his hold. Chase stands and pulls on his sweatpants, his back to me.

  “Distract me all you want,” I say. “I won’t stop. I’m not adding a second unsolved crime to my list of life’s achievements.”

  Chase tosses his tee over his shoulder, his bare back rippling with muscle as he prowls to my door without a look back.

  “Like you said, Chase, we all have our motivations!” I call.

  His answer, predictably, is to slam the front door.

  42

  Over the next three days, I expected Chase to tell the entire school that I slept with him, ensuring my humiliation by saying he nailed me so hard, I was possum roadkill by now.

  It’s with that thick, expectant armor that I leave Thorne House and head to the dining hall. But I eat breakfast, then head to calculus without issue. Ivy speaks to me without underlying horror. I make it through the entire day—and the entire day’s meals—without anyone bothering me, a first since stepping onto Briarcliff soil.

  The second day goes similarly, where no one pays much attention, save for the professors when they call my name in class. It is a weirdly lightheaded experience, and it lowers my barriers enough to where I don’t have to look over my shoulder every two seconds.

  On the third morning, I become suspicious.

  Chase is either absent o
r deliberately obtuse, never seeking me out in the classes we share. His friends, however, do, and within minutes of crossing Riordan’s path, I know he knows, and wishes he’d filmed it.

  Tempest doesn’t have the same eagerness behind his indolent stare, but he watches closely, flicking that spot where a lip ring should be with his tongue as I pass his desk.

  The sexual duel between my internal devil and angel has to be put on pause, however, because I have crucial avenues to pursue, like where my phone went, and if the person who stole it is as disappointed as me when they realized all they got for their efforts was Piper’s endless drone of unicorn poop. I never possessed the full diary, and now, neither do they.

  Which … they’re now looking for, too. When Chase left that night, I’d checked the cloud on my laptop, in hopes my copy would be there, but it was deleted, and suddenly, my midnight intruder made a lot more sense. The only item I have at this point is Rose’s letter, hidden between my calculus pages.

  I shiver under my Briarcliff cardigan on my way to history, unable to shake the compulsion to do as Chase says—stop getting involved.

  Mom wouldn’t let this lie. All victims are the same once they come to me, Callie. They are people who deserve justice, regardless of how they lived their lives. Somebody took that choice away from them.

  Since I’m so distracted and in my own head, history zooms by, and so do the rest of my classes. I cancel dinner with Ivy because I’m so behind on my calculus studies. A certain something happened on Sunday to prevent me from catching up, but I’m not about to confess my turbulent, naked afternoon to my sole friend.

  I see Eden a handful of times, but she keeps her gaze away from mine, holding her textbooks tight to her chest, even though she has a rolling backpack she drags around.

  I’m desperate to ask her where she stole those incriminating videos of me, and if she had the forethought to delete the original, but she’s as evasive as all the other secrets Briarcliff stifles within its walls.

  When Falyn kicks the wheels into Eden’s path, I stick my foot in front of Falyn while she’s busy admiring her handiwork, then smile when she trips over my shoe and mutters an expletive at me.

  Eden doesn’t thank me. She glowers, then storms in the opposite direction, her damaged, off-kilter wheels bouncing in tune with her steps.

  “Miss Ryan,” Dr. Luke warns as I pass his classroom door, where he stands and observes the students as we disperse in the hallway.

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “Uh-huh. With more contrition next time, maybe I’ll buy it.”

  I smile with sarcastic contrition, then exit the main building, intent on getting my studies done.

  But, as it turns out, Chase has other plans.

  For the second time, Chase makes me come.

  I’m stripped bare on my bed, lying face-down and ass-up, and what should be a humiliating pose becomes the best oral of my entire, formerly innocent life.

  My fingers curl into the sheets, my nails biting into the mattress below as I moan through gritted teeth, wanting to be quiet not for my neighbors, but for my own self-respect.

  I push my butt back, my sensitive area too exposed for his tongue to be doing such things. But I can’t … I can’t …

  “Shit—Chase! Chase, I … I…”

  He groans into me, the vibrations of his voice snapping the last strands of sanity I have left.

  Chase pulls away, and I land on my bed in a heap, pieces of hair fluttering as I blow out meager breaths through my lips.

  “You’re welcome,” Chase says. He stands with a grin, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He’s clothed in Briarcliff gear, while I’m naked and vibrating in front of him.

  How did I myself get into this position, you ask?

  I’d had every intention to crack open my calculus text when I took the elevator to my floor, my legs too rubbery and sore from my adventures over the weekend to take the three flights of stairs.

  The hallway was deserted. It was only when I keyed into my dorm room that I noticed an intruder reclining against a sable-colored, suede piece of furniture.

  “Your couch is here,” Chase says, head angled as I step in.

  “Why is this dorm room such a free-for-all?” I toss my book-heavy bag at him, which he catches.

  “The delivery guys were here when I arrived,” he explains, letting my bag fall to his feet. “I thought I’d sign for it, then show them where to put the couch.”

  “How chivalrous of you. I’m so glad my apartment complex has no security measures whatsoever.”

  Chase tsks. “That’s highly insulting to the many college grads who come here and sleep at the reception desk. Or is it Ivy you’re pissing all over? She’s pretty scrappy security if I do say so.”

  I cross my arms. “What’s your problem, Chase?”

  “And your sentiment continues.”

  “I don’t possess the patience for your hot bullshit in addition to your cold shits. Why are you here after ignoring me for days? What do you want?”

  “Mm.” Chase licks his lips as if deep in thought. My toes curl while watching his tongue run along the pink, sensitive skin. “Solid question. I’m here because I’d rather eat your pussy than whatever the dining hall has to offer for dinner tonight.”

  “W-what?”

  Jesus, I sound like a centuries-old Victorian woman whose consort just threw the word pussy at her. But really, it’s that surprising.

  “Do you disagree?” he asks. Chase rests an ankle on his opposite knee as he does so, allowing me full view of the strain happening between his pantlegs.

  “I can’t. I have stuff to do.”

  Chase rises. He’s at a safe distance, but I back up nonetheless. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Nope. You’re not. Take your sweater off, Callie.”

  Damn it, I love it when he uses my name, how it flows out of his mouth with such familiarity.

  “Nope, I will not,” I say.

  “Mm. You will.” Chase slides his blazer off, then tosses it … somewhere. He loosens his tie, then slips that over his head, too.

  My butt hits the wall, and as his body covers me, his delicious scent is the first to seduce.

  “I know what you’re doing,” I manage to gasp when his tongue finds the pulse in my throat. “You’re trying to distract me. Prevent me from … drawing … drawing—shit, what was I saying? Drawing attention! You don’t want me to be involved in Pip—”

  “Callie?” he murmurs against my lips. “Shut up.”

  Thus, here I am, splayed naked in my bed like the feast Chase vowed I’d be.

  Watching him round my bed in full uniform, then take a seat on my single chair and cross his ankles on my desk, I have the added incentive to reclaim the unsuspecting part of me that he took.

  I roll over on my stomach and prop my head in my hands. “Chase, tell me something.”

  Chase pulls out a—is that a joint?—from his pocket, followed by a lighter. He sticks the joint between his teeth and responds while flicking his lighter against the tip. “Your ass looks great in this light.”

  I ignore his half-assed attempt at distraction. “Are you supposed to be doing that? I mean—obviously you shouldn’t be doing it in my room, asshole, but your sports career. Your rowing.”

  Half his face crinkles with a smile as he puffs. “Is that what you want me to tell you? Whether or not I’m a good boy to Coach?”

  “No. The opposite.” I sit up, taking the sheets with me. I’ve yet to come to terms with being completely naked with a boy in the room when he’s not on top of me. “Have you ever been known as Mr. S?”

  Chase holds in a waft of smoke, then puffs it out slow. “This again?”

  “Is it true? Tell me that much.” I hitch the sheets higher. “Did Piper ever call you that?”

  “Why is it so important to you? You’ve never told me where you heard that name.”

  “It’s just something I heard …
around.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, is it a thing?” I grapple for a better stronghold. “Is it the name your girlie fan club calls your dick?”

  Chase snorts, flicking ash on my desk, then placing the joint back between his lips. I growl at him.

  “You’re cute when you try to be rabid.”

  “It’s a simple question.”

  “Fine.” Chase's shoes clomp against the floor when he swings his legs down. “No. Piper never called me Mr. S, and my cock sure as hell doesn’t have that name. It doesn’t have to.” He gives me one of his panty-dropping grins. “It speaks for itself.”

  “Dang,” I mumble, then look to the side. Unfortunately, I believe him.

  “What’s the big deal? Why are you and the cops so revved up about it?” His gaze narrows. “What do you know that I don’t?”

  “I don’t have to tell you.” I collect the top sheet, wrapping it around my body and sliding off the bed. “You keep shit to yourself. So can I.”

  It’s tough to discuss a personal item of Piper’s that I never deserved access to, sent the original to the police, then lost my copy. Chase would be full of questions and demands. I wouldn’t be able to answer them to his satisfaction, earning his wrath. Frankly, these past few days of quiet were like sunbeams on my soul, and I don’t want to ruin it when I can’t even offer up the missing pages as proof of my efforts.

  Chase stubs out the joint and stands, but I catch him when his hand cups my doorknob.

  “Chase, um, would you mind staying a bit?”

  Chase cocks a brow. “Really?”

  He has reason to be confused. The guy truly infuriates me, we whisper veiled threats at each other more than truths, and we don’t trust one another. But the thought of being in this room, alone and available for the next unwelcome intruder…

  “I need help with calculus. I’m just not getting it,” I fib.

  Chase’s head falls back as he stares at the ceiling in thought. “What if I told you I’ve been fucking Professor Lacey to get an A in that class and have no idea how to find the derivative?”

  “I’d say that’s a steaming helping of your hot bullshit.”