KNIGHT: A Dark High School Bully Romance

by L. J. Woods

  I took a fucking bullet for him. An actual, real-life bullet. And he’s done nothing but treat me like shit. He can’t say he forgot because he kept the proof.

  Shutting the cabinet, I brace the sink, racking my brain as I take a deep breath. I’m trying to figure him out. He’s sentimental, keeping a token from our time together, yet he constantly pushes me away. My phone buzzes again and I realize I need to get the fuck out of here.

  Opening the cabinet, I grab the hospital band, tossing it in the trash on the way out of his room. I’m stopped in my tracks when I see who’s scurrying down the hall, out of Sebastien’s old doors.

  My nose wrinkles, “Isaac?”

  Isaac turns around in nothing but black silky boxers, clothes in one hand. His squinted eyes widen when he sees me, his lips turning into a smirk. Wiggling his hand in a “call me” gesture, he winks as he heads down the stairs.

  “Miss Marion?” I duck back into Damien’s small hallway when I see his housekeeper making her way down the hall. Isobel, if I remember. “Miss Marion? Miss Cindy Huang is on the telephone for you.”

  Peeking back around the corner, Damien’s aunt comes out of the same room Isaac came out of in a silk robe. There’s a long thin cigarette between her skinny fingers. “Ah, oui, merci.” She takes the phone from Isobel, and I take my time coming out of the hallway as she makes her way to the stairs, phone in hand.

  “Cindy, how are you?” She’s damn near singing when she answers. “Yes. Mais oui.”

  After I hear her at the bottom of the staircase, I tip-toe towards the stairs. She moves into the kitchen and I’m almost home free when her words throw me off.

  “Don’t worry Cindy, if I get what I want, no one needs to know about our little … arrangement.” She laughs. “Oh, and Damien will be out of the picture. It is, how do you say, a win-win.”

  Her footsteps come closer as she laughs again and I slip through the door, closing it as quiet as I can. I can see the Uber from the gate and while my mind is on getting out of there, Marion’s words swirl around my head.

  Why is she dealing with Cindy Huang and what arrangement do they have? What’s their plan for Damien? Better yet, does she know something about what happened to my parents?

  There’s one person with the answers.

  And he has horns.

  Eight

  The Uber arrives at the school the same time I see Christian’s Jag pulling into the ERA parking lot.

  It’s like Willow senses me because once I get out, her eyes are on me before she starts making her way over. She’s taking cautious steps as if she’s worried about what I’ll say. So I meet her halfway, her arms coming around me in a comforting tight squeeze.

  “You made it,” she says, voice muffled in my leather jacket. I’m wearing Damien’s shirt underneath and it smells like him. I know because I couldn’t resist taking a couple of sniffs on the way here.

  Like a goddamn fiend.

  “You okay?” I push her back, her shoulders between my palms as I take in her appearance. She looks like nothing happened, her hair straightened to perfection. Mascara frames her beaming brown eyes, lipgloss in place on her wide lips.

  “Mhm, Christian stayed in your room the entire night.” She gives me a smirk, a cock of her straight eyebrow. “We had breakfast together then he drove me to school.”

  “What did Nancy and Eric say?”

  “To have a good day,” Christian’s voice comes from behind. When I turn around he has his hockey stick and duffel bag in tow. He’s in his gym gear, green joggers and matching ERA hoodie. His eyes scan my attire and I catch his jaw clench before he forces a smile. “Another Jo Rowland spin on the ERA uniform? Looks good.”

  He’s lying, but letting go of Willow, I twirl around like I’m part of a music box, trying to lighten the mood. “What can I say? I work with what I got.”

  “And you do a good job at it.” The next smile he gives seems more genuine, his eyes sparkling in the morning late fall sun.

  Willow’s head moves back and forth between us before she says, “So, how’s King?”

  There goes Christian’s smile.

  “I should find him,” I say, Marion’s conversation coming to mind. “He skipped out on me this morning.”

  Christian chuckles, shaking his head, “Classic.” What’s that supposed to mean? My lips twist and he sees it, continuing, “I mean, I’m not surprised. It’s what he does.”

  My eyebrows lower, knowing that this isn’t the first time I’ve spent a night with Damien. He doesn’t usually leave. Not always …

  Bella and Jordan wave Willow over from the front doors and for once, Damien and his Supreme Squad aren’t holding court at the top of the stairs.

  “I gotta go,” Willow says. “But we’ll talk later?”

  “Here, I’ll go with you,” I say, but Christian stops me, his hand on mine as Willow skips up the stairs.

  “Hey, wait.” He pulls me closer to him so I’m staring into those enchanting greens. “I was thinking we could skip Mr. Hill’s boring homeroom and grab some breakfast? Me and you. My treat.”

  “Uh,” I hesitate. Is Christian asking me on a date?

  Scratching the back of his neck with his free hand, he searches my face for a clue. “C’mon Jo, you gotta eat. And don’t tell me you ate breakfast this morning.”

  Looking down at my body, bony knees in my tights and knee-highs. Is it that obvious?

  “I can’t skip class,” I say, glancing towards the doors. “And I have to find Damien.”

  “Let him wait.” He takes my other hand, a look on his face like a pleading puppy. “I waited. And you don’t have to worry about classes when you’re with me. Trust me.”

  The image of Christian in my bed plays in my head as I watch the strained look on his face like I’m breaking his heart. Something is holding me back but I can’t figure out what it is.

  Fuck, what’s breakfast? He stayed with Willow all night and for that, I can at least spend the first period with him.

  A smile starts on my face before I give him a playful eye roll. “Alright charmer, let’s do breakfast.”

  His grin grows, exposing gleaming white teeth that damn-near blinds me. “Yeah?” His hand tightens on mine, encasing it in warmth.

  “Ah-huh.” I hope I don’t sound as distracted as I feel. “But, give me a minute.”

  “Alright.” He looks down at his shoes, a couple of swooning girls casting their jealous stares. “I’ll be by the car.”

  As I climb the stairs, I text Nate and Allie about my plans. When I get inside, Lea, Damien, Isaac and Georgina are sitting around the giant tree in the front foyer. A few of Lea’s minions sit on her left and it’s like nothing changed. Damien looks less fucked up than he did before, but the way he’s twirling that coin, eyes fixed on nothing, makes me wonder if he’s actually sober.

  They don’t look at me until I’m in front of them and I ignore the whispers coming from Lea’s Trust Fund Trolls. “Damien, we need to talk.”

  Lea scoffs as Damien’s gaze shifts to mine, grey-blue eyes as icy as the arctic. A cackle comes from beside him, “What on earth are you wearing?” Lea asks.

  Damien’s eyes wander my body. From my head to my boots, stopping at my chest before he asks, “Is that my uniform, Medusa?” I catch the bite of his lip, a hint of a smirk, but I won’t let it falter me. No matter how sexy that looks. I can’t believe he’s acting like we didn’t spend the night together. But what’s new?

  Let’s fix that.

  I let the cat out of the bag, raising my voice so everyone around us hears it. “I needed something to wear after spending the night in your bed. Why didn’t you wake me, sweetie?”

  His jaw clenches, a hand coming to my arm and I’m starting to wonder why I even care about telling him what I heard. Why do I even try to help him when he can’t decide how he wants to treat me? I try to pull from his hold but his grip tightens, dragging me down the hall before my back hits a wooden locker. He’s in my face.
The usual.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Medusa?” His breath hits my lips. Peppermint and weed, but there’s no sign of alcohol as I look for any residue around his nose. The heat from his body makes the warmth in mine rise. And when I look into his eyes they seem cold, distant.

  Knowing Damien is like heavenly hell. Like being with both Jekyll and Hyde and it looks like his other side has come out to play.

  “Believe it or not,” I say. “The only reason I’m talking to you after leaving me last night is to tell you something important.”

  “You’re saying a lot of words but I don’t hear an explanation,” he growls, eyes falling to my lips, heat rising to my cheeks. He presses into me and I push back. My body might look tall and athletic but it does nothing against his strong, rigid frame. His cock twitches against me and I know this is as hard for him as it is for me—pun intended.

  He still wants me. At least his body does. So I forget the reason why I’m here when the question falls out of my mouth, “Why’d you leave?” Locking in on his steely gaze, the world around us disappears again. I’m not even sure I’m only talking about recently. I want to know why he left me that morning and never came back.

  “Why?” Damien breaks our staring contest, eyes dropping to my tits. My nipples pucker under his gaze like they know they’re getting some of the King’s attention. “Were you looking forward to a morning fuck?”

  He’s deflecting and I’m fighting hard to ignore his words when I give up and say, “Your aunt’s up to something.” Ignoring how good his body feels against me, my hands come to his chest, ready to leave … whatever this is. “You might not care about me but for some reason I feel obligated to tell you.”

  Damien presses back, moving my hands to my side with little effort. Shit, how strong does playing hockey make you? “What do you mean up to something?”

  “Her and Cindy have an arrangement? I don’t know, Damien. I heard it this morning when you left me.” The emphasis on “left me” comes out whether I want it to or not.

  He cocks a thick dark eyebrow, “You think something’s up?”

  “Something’s been up since the day I set foot in this school. But, yeah. Might wanna check it out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go.” I’m tempted to tell him where I’m going so I can see that jealous rage again. So I can know that it’s not only me feeling these things. Lust. Want. Need.

  “How do I know you’re not lying?” he asks, not pressing up at all. “How do I know you didn’t make all this up?”

  “You’re gonna have to trust me,” I say.

  “Jo?” My stomach flips when I hear Christian’s voice. I thought he was going to his car. Looking to my right, Christian has his eyes on us, fists clenched, eyes lowered.

  Damien looks right into my eyes, his grip on my wrist tighter. “Are you serious, Medusa? You’re still fucking with Perez? Or is fucking Perez more appropriate?”

  There it is. His voice turns from deep to a thunderous growl and when I fight against his hold, he only holds me tighter. My body turns to mush, so does my mind when I respond, “I have a … breakfast.” As much as this side of him excites me, my nub tingling between my legs, I know not to push it. So I leave the word “date” out of the equation.

  Not that it matters. “You have a breakfast?” Damien doesn’t look at Christian but his jaw is so tight it looks like it might break. He brings his mouth to my ear, that seductive voice in HD. “You’re not leaving, Rowland. You’re gonna help me figure this out.”

  “I am leaving.” The airiness in my voice doesn’t make me sound as bold as I’d like but I keep going. Keep pushing past the nerves and the flutters.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” Those words feel so good to hear after he’s told me to leave over and over again. But now I got him where I want him, and I’m letting him know that he’s not the only one with a royal attitude.

  “You don’t own me, Damien.”

  “Jo!” Christian calls again.

  “Oh?” Loosening his grip on my right wrist, he pulls at the button on the top of the shirt I’m wearing. Cold air brushes the tips of my breasts. “If you’re in my clothes, in my school, fucking right I own you.”

  Staring him in his eyes I shrug my jacket off my shoulders before I start undoing the tie around my neck. He wants to hold his gaze, I can tell he does but Damien’s weaker than he lets on. His eyes drop to my tits as he watches me undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt.

  It’s only when I’m down to my boyshorts, his pants dropping to the floor that I hear him growl, “Rowland. ” He looks to the side before I realize we’ve drawn a crowd. Shit. Fortunately, he’s too distracted to hold his stance when I push against his chest.

  “I’m out of your clothes, and I’m about to be out of your school.” I glance at Christian who has his eyes wide, the crowd around us whispering.

  “Is she stripping again?”

  “Skank.”

  I’m cold, but I take my time pulling my leather jacket around me before walking down the hall in nothing but my underwear and boots. I give Damien the finger. “Like I said, you don’t own me, Damien.” No matter how badly I want him to.

  * * *

  I’ve found my appetite.

  At least for now.

  After smoking a joint with Christian in front of Emilio’s and after showing Damien that I’m still a badass, I’m ravenous. Pizza for breakfast might be unconventional but it’s doing the trick.

  Emilio’s is becoming a safe-haven. I didn’t even know they open for breakfast but I’m happy they do. It’s one of the only places in this shitty town that feels comfortable. It’s not lavish and over-the-top. A small bistro with a homey vibe, a chalkboard menu and a welcoming staff.

  I’ve changed into Christian’s extra gym-wear, another pair of joggers and an ERA hoodie. It’s comfortable and smells like smoky, expensive cologne. It mixes with the basil and smell of dough in the restaurant. He hasn’t mentioned Damien, distracting my mind with more random conversation.

  “Wait, you met Ovechkin?” I ask, trying to keep my jaw from hanging when Christian fills me in on the former NHL champions’ locker room.

  “Yeah, but I could hardly understand him.” Christian shovels a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. He swallows before giving me a horrible interpretation of a Russian accent, “We not fucking suck!” It’s the line from The Capitals’ captain when they won the cup and I can’t help but laugh. And I mean a real, genuine, laugh.

  “I guess having a former NHL star as a dad comes with perks,” I say between my laughs, reaching for the white napkin next to me.

  “Downsides too,” Christian reminds me. “If I don’t get drafted before I graduate university, I’m pretty much disowned.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll survive.” I’m not one to sympathize with people in Christian’s tax bracket.

  “I can. My parents won’t.” He leans in, a hand by his mouth. “They might even take away my second car.”

  “Oh, the tragedy!” I laugh again, Christian joining in showing off a dimple in his cheek.

  “Don’t get weird, alright?” His smile settles, eyes scanning around my face.

  “What?” I meet his gaze, reaching for the napkin. “Sauce on my face?”

  He rubs at his chin before he speaks, “You have the sexiest laugh.” There’s a hint of red in his tanned cheek when he says this, the smoothness of his words contradicting it. I can’t tell if he’s putting on the Christian Casanova moves or if he’s being sincere. My brows furrow and he catches it, replying before I even say anything, “I mean it.” He leans in closer. “And I don’t know if I like you better in King’s uniform or out of it. You reminded him who’s boss.”

  “Well if you won’t, I will.” I nudge his shoulder with mine.

  “It’s complicated,” he says, glancing at his plate for a moment before those greens land back on me. “But things between us don’t have to be. You’re something else, Jo and if I had the chance
to make you mine I …” He’s leaning in, my heart beating against my chest. My eyes land on his lips. Thick and luscious. The closer he gets, the more I realize he’s about to kiss me. Right here in Emilio’s for all the breakfast clients to see.

  Okay, they’re all older folks with pearls and canes made out of shiny wood but still. Chrisitan Perez is about to kiss me and it’s not with any strings. It’s not because he’s trying to thwart his power. This feels normal. So why am I hesitating?

  That roaring voice floats into my head.

  You’ll always be mine, Rowland.

  He’s why.

  Like Christian reads my mind, he asks, “Are you and Damien over?” The question makes me freeze. I don’t know how to answer it, but with Christian this close to my face, the pressure’s on.

  “Hey!” Allie’s voice makes me jump a little, Christian lingering when I pull back. Allie’s quick to our table, tote bag on her shoulder. “Got your message and if you guys get to skip, I’m skipping too. Finals giving you the heebie-jeebies? These grades mean everything as seniors.”

  “Uh, yeah,” I nod. I’m relieved Allie’s here. Especially when I find my sass, “Not like your money can’t buy your way out of it.”

  “Ha.” Her laugh drips with sarcasm as she plops down in the spot next to me, hands already in her brother’s fries. She moves a purple strand out of her eye, popping a fry in her mouth. “Nate and Carlos are coming too.”

  Christian sighs, leaning back. He just got the memo that this private breakfast is over. “Oh, good.” Sarcasm is something that runs in the family.

  Allie pauses, glancing between us, “Wait, am I interrupting?”

  “No,” I’m quick to answer.

  “Emilio’s does breakfast?” Nate’s voice is next through the dining room.

  Christian tosses his napkin on the table. “Didn’t know this was a party,” he says, poking his fork into his steak.