Payback Princess (Lost Daughter of a Serial Killer Book 2)

by C. M. Stunich

  “We tried kissing,” I start, rushing to explain before Chasm makes this any harder for me. “But we were in the bathroom, and the Slayer still knew about it. Well, there aren’t any cameras in there, Chas didn’t have his phone, and mine was buried inside my pocket. We never spoke aloud about what exactly we were doing. Yet he knew anyway. Then I remembered the circumstances of how I actually got the heart pin: someone left me a note that said princess and then tucked it in my drawer. Tess never brought it up, and she certainly never calls me princess. It was the Slayer. That fucking pin is a camera.”

  “That’s a pretty big jump of logic to make,” X says, opening his eyes. They bore into me, demanding the truth. Is there something to it, like in the shape of his eyes? The pretty soft striations of moss and billiard green in his irises? Or is that citrusy, grassy smell of his like a truth serum?

  “Maybe. But it doesn’t hurt to be cautious. Let’s just assume that all tech—and that stupid heart pin—are his eyes.” I’m doing my best to steer the subject away from the actual ‘having sex’ portion of the equation, and luckily, it seems to be working.

  “There could be cameras all over this room,” Maxx explains, gesturing loosely with his hand. “All over the house. It’s clear that the Slayer has no problem getting in and out of this place without being seen and without triggering the alarm.” He lifts up an arm toward me in placating gesture. “But I do agree that the pin could be a spy cam; he can’t possibly plug the entire world with hidden cameras.”

  “It’s too late now,” Chasm says, unbuttoning his dress shirt the rest of the way and tossing it aside. Without breaking stride, he rises to his feet and moves past me, his right arm brushing across my back and making me shiver. I glance over to see Chas prowling through the top drawer of Parrish’s dresser.

  He goes still all of a sudden, curling his fingers around the edge of the drawer and closing his eyes. His inked body is rigid, his muscles stiff with tension.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says all of a sudden, letting his head hang down. “I just need a minute.”

  I find myself rooted to the spot, gazing at Chasm’s back and wishing I could go to him, throw my arms around him, hug him close and promise that everything’s going to be okay. But there are no cameras in here—at least, I don’t think so—and that means I’d be holding Chasm just for me. For him. And it would have nothing to do with Parrish.

  “It is too late,” X agrees softly, some of the anger leaking from his face. “But we haven’t broken any rules. If the Slayer knows we’ve discovered his camera, what does it matter? He’s actively challenging us to plot against him; it’s what he seems to want.”

  Chasm returns to life like he’s been kicked. He slams the drawer back into place so hard that the dresser—luckily not the one that GG’s cage is resting on—wobbles like it might fall over.

  “You’re going to yell at me,” Chasm accuses, turning some of that anger and frustration onto Maxx. The latter raises one chocolate colored brow.

  “Yell at you? Not while Dakota’s present,” Maxx says, and that really does it. Chasm curls his lip up in a snarl and moves over to Parrish’s nightstand, stealing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter before climbing out onto the roof to smoke in nothing but his academy-issued slacks.

  “Don’t provoke him like that; he doesn’t deserve it,” I say, giving X my harshest glare. I try to borrow a little from Maxine. Since he’s dating her, he must be somewhat familiar with that look she gives when other people are being total dicks. “What happened today was hard on both of us.”

  “Doesn’t look hard enough on him,” X says, turning away from me and sliding his hands into his pockets. He stares at the rabbit instead of me.

  “Can he help it if he has feelings for me when he isn’t supposed to?” I snap, and only when Maxx turns very, very slowly around to look at me do I realize the words that have left my mouth. “It isn’t like he wanted to act on them. I mean, he did. But he wouldn’t have without …” I just trail off because all I’m doing right now is making word salad. Sucking in a deep breath, I try to collect myself. “He—”

  “He is sitting right here,” Chasm says, turning around to put his feet in through the window. He slouches over, the same old tattooed asshole I saw from the very beginning. “Dakota and I have a thing. Parrish and I even talked about it. You know I’d never fucking betray you guys”—I get a small thrill at the term you guys because it sure as hell feels like I’m included in that—“but my choices were to let him die or screw his girl. If our positions were reversed, do you know what I’d say? Go to town, bro.”

  “Go to town, bro?” Maxx repeats, looking back at his friend and shaking his head. “I know you far too well to believe that shit.” X lifts a hand from his pocket and points at me. “When he gets back, the two of you are going to fight over this girl and butt horns like mountain goats or some shit.”

  Chasm just stares at his friend, but he doesn’t deny the statement. His eyes drift over to me, and chills break out across my body. Somehow, I don’t think that Maxx is right. Chasm is too … he’s as self-sacrificial as Parrish and me, maybe more so, but only when it comes to certain people.

  Parrish, of course, being one of them.

  “I also get a say in this, by the way,” I remind them, moving over to GG’s cage and taking him out to cuddle. I press a kiss to the bunny’s soft head and his nose twitches.

  “Maxx is just cranky because he’s missing his girlfriend,” Chas snaps out, taking a drag on the cigarette and leaning out the window to blow smoke into the wind.

  Tension snaps taut in the room as Maxx turns his gaze down to the floor beneath his bare feet. He looks like he might be physically ill.

  “Maxine and I broke up,” he growls out, and then he turns and throws open the bedroom door so hard that it slams into the wall. My eyes go wide, and I flick a glance back at Chasm. He’s staring at the doorway with a frown on his pretty lips.

  “Is that cigarette smoke that I smell up here?” Tess’ voice rings out, and now Chasm’s eyes are just as wide as mine. He’s snarling in Korean and stabbing the cigarette out in the ashtray, shoving it to the side and climbing in the window as quickly as he can. He slams the window closed and then snatches up a can of body spray, soaking himself with it and chucking it aside just before Tess appears in the doorway.

  She stares at us, standing in her missing son’s room together. Him, shirtless. Me, holding a bunny. That’s what saves us, I think. The rabbit. We couldn’t possibly be having sex while I’m cuddling our new pet.

  “I believe I specifically asked the two of you not to be alone together,” she starts, frowning hard as she looks between us. My cheeks and chest flush red, but I don’t know how to respond to that. All this time, poor Chas has been taking shit for something he never did. Now that we’ve actually, you know, done it, I’m even less sure how I should react. “Any news?” Tess sounds tired and hopeless at this point.

  Part of me aches to tell her the truth, to let her know that Parrish is okay, that he’s actually looking much better today than he did two days ago. I … it looked like he might actually die that day. I choke on my own feelings and look down at the bunny, shaking my head slightly.

  “Nothing,” Chasm says, and I hear Tess sigh tiredly.

  “Please put on a shirt, Kwang-seon,” she admonishes, but there’s no bite to her words. No fire. It’s easy to be hopeful on day two or three or even seven or eight. But day twelve? Things aren’t looking good. “Your father’s agreed to let you stay until Sunday, but I will kick you out if I suspect that anything is going on.”

  Tess turns and leaves, and we hear her office door close just a few seconds later.

  Chasm glances over at me.

  “At least if I’m going to get chewed out over this, I’m getting some.”

  “Really?” I snap, putting the bunny back in his cage, and then turning to head back into my room. He follows me, even though he was just warned against exactly that. Cha
sm shoves my door closed and then flicks the lock.

  My sister broke up with X? Why? Or did he break up with her?

  Based on Maxx’s reaction, it’s clear that he doesn’t want to talk about it right now. I just hope it doesn’t have anything to do with … me.

  “Why are you shirtless and in my room?” I ask, pausing next to the desk and looking down at Maxx’s laptop. I should get back online, make another video, another plea. Keep searching for clues in the comments. My eyes slide to one side, catching on the cover of Fleeing Under a Summer Rain, the book that Tess says is entirely fictional.

  The one where a girl murders her abusive father. I reach out and tug it off the shelf. Flipping through, I try to remember some of the events in the novel, searching for some grain of truth in it. I might have to reread this, just to see.

  What if there are clues here?

  All of a sudden, Chasm is standing right behind me. I can feel him. I ache for him.

  My eyes close and goose bumps spring up all over my exposed flesh.

  He takes his hands and then runs them just a hairsbreadth above my skin, trailing down my arms and then stopping with his fingers just barely grazing my hips.

  I turn around suddenly which I don’t think he expected and use the book as a shield between us.

  His amber eyes are dark as he studies me before taking a step back.

  “What do you want me to do tonight?” he asks, turning away and acting like he didn’t almost just grab me. “How can I help?”

  I swallow hard and do my best to shake off the throbbing ache between my thighs. It seems impossible that we actually, like, fucked each other at school today. It’s weird. I won’t lie.

  “Why don’t we take a look at the skeleton key?” I offer up, moving past him to set the book on my nightstand. I go to withdraw the key from the drawer and Parrish’s drawing falls out, the one with the green rose on it.

  Chasm reads the note over my shoulder, speaking Parrish’s words aloud.

  “I know I told you to think about what you wanted, but here’s an idea to get you started. Roses are a symbol of forbidden love. Also, it’s the state flower for New York. Thought you’d appreciate that.” He finishes and then curses, stepping away from me. When I turn to look at him, he seems like he might be on the verge of puking.

  I fold the note back up and press it against my chest, using my other hand to withdraw the skeleton key. Turning it over in my fingers, I look for markings and see a faintly stamped symbol near the bow-like shape at the base of the key.

  “Let’s work on identifying this,” I say, feeling queasy at the faint scent of blood that surrounds the key. I’m aware that it’s made of iron, that I’m not actually smelling blood, but I can’t seem to escape it. Whether it’s a dead maid, a murdered rapist, Parrish’s naked chest, or my goddamn period, I can’t seem to get a break from the stuff. “This could be big for us.”

  Looking back at Chasm, I watch as he visibly tries to extricate himself from more personal thoughts. Believe me, if I could, I’d lay in bed beside him all night and talk. More than talk, probably. But we can’t do that. Only the bare minimum to satisfy the Slayer.

  Speaking of …

  I snatch my phone off the nightstand as it begins to buzz and find myself staring down at the newest text.

  You still haven’t learned your lesson. I asked you to be honest with yourself, to take what you deserve. Instead, you’re still too wrapped up in your head. Princess, you will never be truly free or truly happy while you cater to the whims of others.

  Then again, perhaps I don’t know the true whims of your heart. I was wrong once. Maybe Parrish is simply not enough motivation? We’ll see, come Sunday.

  My blood chills as I put the phone down.

  “Anything?” Chasm asks, voice strangely hopeful. I pass the phone over to him and then take a seat at Maxx’s computer. This key is our best shot right now.

  I grab my lime-green headset from one of the desk drawers and connect the Bluetooth to the laptop. Shaking my hair out, I plaster a smile on my face and start another live video.

  “So, who likes to play with antiques?” I ask.

  Several hours later, I wake up sprawled across my bed. My phone—the one that Tess isn’t supposed to know about—is clutched in my hand, and I curse myself for my carelessness. I don’t remember falling asleep, sometime between making that video, and following several good leads to information about the key.

  The mark on the side of it is, apparently, a maker’s mark.

  Our particular key is labelled with the word Avant. It’s apparently a pretty famous manufacturer from the early 1900s. A few of my followers pointed out the fact that the key itself is a bit uneven, likely meaning that it was made by hand rather than created in a factory. That helps date it a little.

  In short, the key is old as fuck.

  I cross-referenced the homes we found in Medina that had wine cellars to see if any of them were built prior to 1940.

  Not a single fucking one was.

  Eventually, I made it over to my bed and collapsed, intending on doing more research on my phone. I must’ve fallen asleep. Chasm seems to be gone, and neither of us saw hide nor hair of Maxx since he disappeared earlier.

  The room is dark, but I can see the city sparkling on the opposite side of the lake.

  I force myself up, heading into the bathroom to deal with my period. When it comes time to decide what sort of feminine product I want to use, I select a menstrual cup, acting like I don’t notice or care that it advertises the opportunity for mess-free intercourse on the package.

  Once I’m all cleaned up, I head back into my room to find that I’m not alone.

  Chas is sitting on my bed, staring down at his lap. He looks up at me as I come in, his pretty golden eyes catching what little light leaks in from outside.

  “What are you doing in here?” I ask, and even though he looks pained as hell, he stands up and moves over to me. He puts his hands on either side of the doorjamb and leans down toward me, mimicking his pose from the bathroom earlier.

  “Do you know why I was here that day?” he asks, and I don’t need to clarify. I know exactly what day he’s referring to: the day that I slept with Parrish. “Why I brought those stupid fucking sunflowers?”

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask, feeling myself begin to tremble. I know what we have to do. It’s quite clear that our adversary is an intelligent and perceptive man. He’s also fucking crazy. It seems absurd that he’d actually ask me to do something like this, that he’d actually care. But trying to decipher the man’s motivations will not save Parrish; following his orders is what’s saving Parrish.

  “I came here to tell you what I was feeling. I knew you were crushing on Parrish; he fucking told me that he was crushing on you. Still, I had to see. I wanted to try.”

  “Kwang-seon,” I start, and then he’s grabbing my chin and tilting my head up. His mouth meets mine and all of that fire from the maze comes raging back through me, lighting my blood on fire and making me react like I’m roiling in an inferno.

  He wraps an arm around me and yanks me close, sliding his left hand down to rest against my lower back. Our mouths work against one another, tongues tangling, heat blazing. Chas licks my lower lip and draws back a bit.

  “Even though I knew what you were doing, I stayed. Just in case. In case maybe you changed your mind. In case he did. I waited there until I couldn’t take it anymore, then I went downstairs and jumped in the pool with all my clothes on.”

  A small sound escapes me, but I’m not sure if it’s a laugh or a sob.

  What he’s saying is … it’s heartbreaking. At the same time, it’s miraculous. I’m drowning in it. I want more, even as I know that every sip I allow myself to have of Kwang-seon McKenna will poison me from the inside out.

  “Why did you have all of those condoms on you?” I whisper, and he lets out a small, caustic little laugh.

  “I pass them out. At parties. At school.
Wherever.” He pauses and lets out a small sigh. “Everybody just assumes it’s because I sleep around so much.”

  “Are you really a virgin?” I whisper, and he lets out another little laugh.

  “Was a virgin. It’s stupid, isn’t it? The way I act, the way I …” But he doesn’t need to say anything else. It isn’t stupid, not to me. I see him for what he is, someone who likes to help, but who doesn’t dare allow himself to be vulnerable. Someone who claims to be a bad person while behaving the exact opposite. I see a person who isn’t sure who, exactly, he is just yet.

  Chasm kisses me again, and butterflies take over my belly, making me feel weightless. My palms press against his bare chest, the beat of his heart a steady rhythm against my skin. He weaves the fingers of his right hand into my hair, pulling me closer with his left arm. My entire body throbs, and I squeeze my thighs to help fight the overwhelming need.

  “I brought a towel,” he offers up, and it takes me a second to realize what he’s saying.

  “Chas,” I warn, but then I think about the cup that I just put in. The reviews online were pretty good—not that I was thinking about sex when I bought it—but people seemed to think you really could, um, go all the way without any mess or without the dude feeling much but a brush of silicone if he was really deep.

  Really deep.

  Blood rushes to my face, and I’m thankful for the darkness permeating the room. I don’t need him to see my reaction to my own, pervy thoughts.

  “I don’t …” I start, referring to the towel. But Chasm cuts me off, like he thinks he needs to convince me further.

  “I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, but I have to be honest. I won’t let Parrish die because some nutjob can see me holding back. And Little Sister, it’s obvious as fuck. I’m sure anyone with half a brain could see it. There’s a reason why Tess believed you and I were a couple so easily. Or why Maxx is angry with me.”