KNIGHT: A Dark High School Bully Romance

by L. J. Woods

  He chuckles, “I shouldn’t have to ask, Rowland.” Leaning in, he kisses me, soft and gentle and it sends shivers right through me. “You and me? We’ll never be normal. See you after school.” He gives me one last kiss before he gets out of his car and I sit there stunned, blinking. His other side, the one I fell for, is back in full swing. Had I known, I would’ve slept with him a lot sooner.

  Christian’s not far behind him, and when I get out, I’m met by a glare of death from Lea. Georgina and Pixie glare at me too, eyes telling me they’re plotting something. I’d be on edge if it wasn’t for these guys. Walking behind Christian and Damien, I ignore the girls. The two of them talk about plays as casual as Christian takes the scotch out of Damien’s hand when he pulls it out of his jacket. They’re like a wall of muscular man-flesh, guys getting out of their way, girls swooning and glaring at me as we pass.

  “Ladies,” Christian nods at Lea as we make our way into the school. It’s hard not to give her a snarky smirk, like the ones she’s always throwing my way.

  “Grim Reaper,” Lea scoffs when I’m by her face.

  Damien stops in his path, making me bump into his back. When he turns around, he lowers his shades, giving Lea the look of a cold-hearted devil. Her friends all back away as he narrows his eyes, leaning into her while he keeps his voice low, “If you want to see a Grim Reaper, keep calling her that.”

  “Me?” Lea asks. She doesn’t back down easy this time, face red and sour. “After everything I did for you?”

  “You mean drugging me enough so I sat still at my father’s funeral?” He lets out a stiff laugh. “Don’t expect a thank you.”

  Damien leaves Lea standing with the look of a confused poodle before we make it into the foyer. Allie’s sitting in the corner, her eyebrows furrowing when she sees me with the guys. She waves and I’m about to walk over when Christian says, “We have to report to coach. Will you be okay?”

  His eyes land on Allie who’s sitting next to Nate and Carlos with a stack of luggage. I smile, “I’ll be fine.”

  “See you at two,” Damien and Christian leave, walking down the hall.

  “Wait,” I call. “I have my project to work on.”

  “Two o’clock,” Damien says again and I roll my eyes, walking over to Allie.

  Stubborn dick.

  A stupid, sexy stubborn dick.

  “You lucky, lucky girl.” Nate peers over his sunglasses, the same ones from the funeral before Carlos slaps his arm. Nate looks back. “What? I’m not the one fucking them.”

  “Wait, I’m not—”

  “Don’t pee in my bed and tell me it’s raining, Scandal,” Nate’s quick to cut me off, his hand on his chest.

  “He means on his head,” Carlos nods in a jacket like Indiana Jones. “But he’s right. That’s an aggressive threesome waiting to happen.”

  “Ew! Guys!” Allie pipes, purple highlights fading into brown.

  “Wait, where the fuck are you guys going?” I’m gesturing to their luggage, trying to change the topic. “You’re packed for like a year around the world.” They’re also dressed in matching jungle attire. Hiking boots. Cargo pants.

  “Well, if you hadn’t forsaken your only real friends in this shithole,” Nate says, straightening his stance. “You would’ve known we’re going to Nicaragua.”

  “Nic-where?”

  “School charity trip,” Carlos explains. “We’ll be gone for a few weeks.”

  “Shit.” Scratching the back of my head, I’m wondering how I missed this.

  “It’s okay,” Nate pats me on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of tea to spill when we’re back.”

  I smile, “I was going to say, I can’t imagine you doing charity work.”

  Nate rolls his eyes. “Carlos wouldn’t let me take him to Mykonos. He wanted to do something more meaningful.”

  “I’m impressed,” I say to Carlos, giving him a nod of approval. Carlos seems less stuck up than the rest of the dickheads in this school. Makes me wonder what his story is.

  The bell rings and I hug Carlos and Nate good-bye, wishing them well on their trip.

  As Allie and I walk down the halls, she leans into me, “So, are you and King—”

  “Gotta go!” I’ve never run so fast to homeroom but I’m still not ready for that conversation. For starters, I still haven’t had that conversation with Damien. Just what the fuck are we?

  I try not to let that question ruin my day and as I go through classes, it doesn’t. I’m way too in a good mood from last night, and this morning, to let that happen.

  Christian and Damien both text me for lunch but I tell them I’m eating with Allie. Now that Nate’s away with Carlos, she’ll be alone and I owe her some friend-time. We don’t waste our time at Emilio’s talking about boys. Instead, I fill her in on my scholarship chances and she’s crazy supportive. I even showed her a bit of what I’m working on and Allie thinks I have a solid shot.

  If I don’t blow it.

  After lunch, I spend my independent study period working on my final art piece and sure enough, I zone out on the time. When I look at my phone, it’s quarter past two. Shit. Damien’s waiting.

  I only get a little paint off the brushes before I’m dashing towards the parking lot in my jacket. Willow texts me that she’s heading to Bella’s again and while I’m starting to think Bella’s stealing my sister, I won’t have to explain what I’m doing with Damien.

  Once I’m out the door and in the lot, Damien’s car isn’t even there.

  My heart sinks into my stomach, fists clenching the more reality sinks in. He did it again.

  “Fuck!” I yell at the sky, students looking at me as they pass by. Sure, I was late but he left me. Didn’t even text.

  How am I supposed to trust him? To trust this? When he behaves like a royal prick?

  “He ditch you?” Christian’s voice comes from behind me.

  Sighing, I turn around, annoyance in my voice. “Seems so.”

  Christian pulls his keys out of his black coat. “Need a ride?”

  “Yeah, actually I do.” My body buzzes with rage. He’s not getting away with it. “Right to that motherfucker’s home.” Christian hesitates, but I’m too mad. Too determined to get some final answers. I’m not going to be strung along like the girls he’s used to. If he wants a girl from The Grove, he’s about to get her. “Or I can call Henry.”

  “No. It’s fine.” Christian shakes his head with a smile, a glimmer in his eye. “I wanna see this.”

  Thirteen

  The gate’s closed when we arrive at King’s mansion.

  Christian knows the code and he’s quick to let us in.

  When we pull into the driveway, I’m starting to think I was wrong.

  His car isn’t in sight, and the place looks quiet.

  Looking around the front of the property, my shoulders drop. “Is he even here?”

  Christian tilts his chin over to the massive garage down another driveway, shrugging. “Want to check inside?”

  “Might as well.” I didn’t come here for nothing. Christian presses the ignition on his car, bringing his Jag to silence.

  We walk up to the main door and ring the bell, Isobel answering after only a few seconds. “Mister Christian,” she smiles, wiping her hands on her white apron.

  “Hey, Isobel,” Christian greets. “Love the haircut. Is King home?”

  She reddens as if she’s getting a compliment from a superstar before she waves us inside. Isobel smooths her short black hair. “Yes, I will tell him you are here,” she says once we’re in the foyer. “But he is not happy.”

  SMASH!

  “What the fuck!” A loud, rolling growl comes from upstairs. It’s followed by thuds and more smashing, the sound of a glass breaking. Sounds like Damien’s freaking out up there. I confirm it when Christian returns my glance.

  “Uh, we’re gonna head upstairs,” Christian says but I’m already climbing the steps.

  Isobel raises
a hand before she mumbles, “Okay. Don’t say I don’t warn you.”

  “Thanks, Isobel,” Christian calls behind me. He sounds like he’s at the landing but I’m already down the hall, following the sounds of curses, smashes, and grunts.

  “Damien?” When I get to his bedroom doorway, it’s as bad as the first time, if not worse.

  Drawers lay scattered around the room, on the bed, on the sofa. Shards of a mirror lay around the floor, posters off the wall, furniture turned over. Loose papers and clothes sit among it all.

  “Woah.” Christian’s caught up, standing behind me.

  When Damien looks our way he looks as bad as the room. His eyes aren’t glazed like when he’s loaded, but his hair is a mess, white button-up hanging off his shoulders. He glances up at us. “The fuck are you guys doing here?”

  “Well you demanded I be in the parking lot at two, and you weren’t there.”

  “It’s two?”

  “Two-thirty,” Christian informs.

  “Fuck!” Damien picks up his computer screen before sending it flying across the room. It smashes against the wall, making a loud bang and a huge hole.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, trying to piece it all together. “What happened?”

  “My coin,” Damien growls. “It’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Christian asks. “Or you lost it?”

  That gets the look of death from Damien. “I didn’t lose it!” He slams his fist into the wall.

  “Alright! Chill out!” Christian looks around the room.

  “Don’t tell me to chill out, Perez,” Damien warns.

  I have more questions. “So you ditched me and trashed your room because of a coin?”

  That stops Damien in his path of destruction. He glances at me before looking down and mumbling, “It’s not just a coin.” That’s all he says before he makes his way into his closet. Now I’m looking at Christian for answers.

  Christian looks at Damien’s closet before he pinches his pants, pulling them up and crouching down so he can check under the bed. “It’s his mom’s,” he says, keeping his voice low.

  But Damien hears it, “Mind your business, Perez!” He’s back in the room, his face red, swooping a hand through his hair. He pauses before he zeroes in on me, eyes narrowing. He’s walking towards me, those long confident strides and I know what he’s about to do. Assert his dominance.

  I’m backed against the wall again, Damien’s face in front of me and god, I want to kiss him. My heart feels like it’s about to burst and I hate the way my body betrays me so easily. That is, until he asks, “Did you take it, Medusa?”

  My head jerks back but it only hits the wall and I wince, Damien leaning his head to the side. I speak before he does, “No, I didn’t take your stupid coin.” He eyes me like he’s trying to crack a code, and then I’m reminded, he doesn’t trust me. “Do you think I took it? Like you thought I killed your dad?”

  My eyes shut tight when I hear my words and Damien chuckles before …

  CRUNCH!

  Another hole in the wall.

  “Miss Marion. Welcome back,” Isobel’s voice rings from downstairs before Marion’s melodic whistle carries down the hall.

  “Still don’t trust me?” I ask, my voice doing that stupid airy thing while I’m doing my best to avoid staring at those soft, tempting lips.

  Damien’s eyes narrow, those marbley eyes still boring into me before he lets up. Without another word, he leaves me and Christian staring at each other before we follow him.

  “Where is it?” Damien’s voice is hard, firm and threatening. It shoots right through me and I see the vein in Marion’s neck when it gets to her too.

  Christian and I stand on the second-floor balcony, looking into the foyer. Damien and Marion stand face-to-face.

  “Where is what, darling?” she asks, a thick red shawl around her shoulders. Her hair looks flawless even in her messy updo. She gets more glamorous every time I see her. Even her stilettos sparkle.

  “The silver dollar, Marion,” he replies. “Where is it?”

  “You mean your silly little security blanket?” She laughs. “Mon dieu, I got rid of that old thing. I made a great sale! If you did more small deals—”

  “Got rid of it?”

  “Mais oui,” she nods. “At the auction. That’s also where I got this vintage purse. Do you like it?” She holds out the red patterned purse in her hand as if she’s admiring it all over again.

  “That wasn’t yours to take,” Damien growls.

  Marion studies his face before she sighs, “You are right. And I am sorry.” She reaches out to touch Damien’s chin but he pulls away. She huffs, “When I’m in charge of King Financial, you will see that all my decisions are good ones. Now, I have to change for dinner with the board.”

  “My board?”

  She laughs, “You are a child! You cannot run a board. Not with … ” Glancing up, she twists her nose, eyes on me before she returns it to Damien. “Not with your choices.” Marion saunters up the stairs, leaving Damien with closed fists as he stares at the wall.

  “Hello,” she greets us as she makes her way down to Sebastien’s room. Of all the rooms in this place, she’s picked her dead brother’s. His bed’s hardly cold. A scream comes from down the hall before her loud question, “What happened to my room?”

  “Your room?” Damien asks, nostrils flaring. “You think you run this shit?”

  “This needs to be clean when I return,” she demands, her heels clicking against the floor when she pushes by me again.

  Damien doesn’t sound as pissed as he looks when he says, “You’re not in charge here, Marion.”

  Before she leaves, she turns around, one hand on the front door. “Well, I’m the only family you have.” And with a slam, she’s gone.

  Damien paces the foyer, Christian and I watching him.

  A moment goes by and it’s like Christian and I are too afraid to say anything. Too afraid to move when Damien picks up a vase and sends it flying at the piano, startling Isobel. “I’ll be back.”

  “Shit,” Christian mutters.

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  He doesn’t even head inside to grab his jacket before he’s out the door, shirt still open, exposing his chest and abs. With a glance at Christian, I follow him to the garage. “Damien, what the fuck? What are you doing?”

  “Damage control.” He doesn’t look back when he answers, going through the side door of another building that looks like a house. Hell, the garage is bigger than our old home.

  Christian calls my name from the front door, “Jo, let him go!”

  I wish it was that easy.

  “I’m coming with you,” I say, marching into the garage with him. The door to his car is unlocked when I get to it. When I settle in, he zooms down the driveway and if the gate wasn’t already open, he’d drive through it too. He’s speedy, but he’s not reckless, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

  “What do you mean by damage control?” I ask, half-nervous about the response.

  His eyes on the road, a smirk comes across that perfect face. “We’re gonna have a little talk.”

  We’re in front of Isaac’s house in what seems like a few minutes.

  Well, kind of.

  Damien parks around the corner when he sees his limo in the driveway.

  “My aunt’s fucking my best friend,” Damien mutters, hands still gripping the wheel. His knuckles turn white and I’m afraid he’ll break his car. “You weren’t lying.”

  “What’re you going to do?” Scanning his face, I can’t get a read on him. He sounds calm but his jaw’s still tight, face muscles still making those cheeks pop.

  “For now, we wait.” He keeps his eyes straight ahead.

  “And then what?” He doesn’t say anything and that shakes me. He never tells me the plan. Hardly tells me what he’s thinking but here I am, always by his side. It shakes me more when I realize he didn’t believe me. “Wait, you thought I was lying?�
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  He shrugs and I know he’s trying to play this off. “I didn’t believe a woman like that would want action from someone like … Isaac.”

  I don’t care what his reasoning is. “You don’t trust me, do you?” How are we supposed to be anything if he doesn’t trust me? How are we even supposed to be friends? He’s already blaming everything on me. The coin, his father’s death. What’s next?

  The limo comes through the gate. I guess it didn’t take them that long this time, we’ve only been sitting here for about twenty minutes. When the limo goes the other way, he pulls into the driveway. He still doesn’t answer me when he gets out of the car and storms to the door, over the pond and bangs his fist against the glass.

  Sitting in his car, I’m trying to digest this feeling. My stomach aches. So does my head and I’m wondering why I even keep trusting him if he doesn’t trust me? I should know better. The only person I can trust is Willow but since she’s been on her own path, hanging with the cool kids, is that still even true?

  I’m shaken out of my thoughts when the front door opens. Isaac’s in a robe like he’s fucking Hugh Hefner but my eyes widen when I see Damien’s fist connect with his face.

  “Damien!” I call, getting out of the car and running towards them. He’s already on top of him. Isaac doesn’t even defend himself as Damien wails on him. “Stop!” I know the damage Damien can do. Isaac doesn’t deserve that, even if he did cross a line. “Quit it!”

  “I’m sorry!” Isaac finally croaks. He already knows why he’s getting a royal beating. “I’m fucking sorry, man!”

  Damien stops, his fist in the air when he gets off Isaac and walks into his house. I already suspect his dad isn’t home. Like Nate and Bella’s, Lionel Johnson is never around.

  Grabbing Isaac by the arm, I help him up, but he tries his best to stand on his own. He opens the front door wider on its swivel, still being a gentleman even with blood coming down his nose. Walking through the foyer, I head straight to where I remember the kitchen is, grabbing a pack of ice from the built-in fridge.

  Isaac’s kitchen is a mix of grey concrete, green cupboards and white walls. It’s eccentric but it works and I assume he and his dad have similar styles. Unconventionally snobby.