by Katie May
I take the moment to lean against the far wall, in direct view of both the kitchen and dance floor, and survey the party in extensive detail.
Have you ever seen a party on television? Where twenty-something-year-old actors pretend to be high schoolers, and they dance and drink and get wasted? Well, this party is a much tamer version of that. People are drinking and dancing, all right, but there are no couples having sex in the corner of the rooms. No illicit affairs in direct view of their classmates. Honestly, I believe a lot of script writers are perverted fifty-year-old men who have no idea what being a teenager is really like.
“A drink for the pretty lady.” Emmett returns only a few minutes later, offering me an unopened beer that must’ve been sitting beside the keg. I take it gratefully as he unscrews the lid on his own and takes a long swallow, his throat bobbing.
“Thanks, Em.” The condensation makes my hands sticky as I absently move the bottle from hand to hand, almost as if I’m playing my own version of solo hot potato.
“Do you wanna maybe dance?” He inclines his head towards the dance floor where dozens of teenagers are plastered together, swaying to the beat blaring from the television’s speakers. “I mean, if you dance as well as you cheer…” His gaze drags over me suggestively, and he waggles his blond eyebrows.
“Let’s dance, you horny freak,” I tease, taking his muscular bicep in the hand not currently holding the beer bottle and pulling him into the middle of the dance floor.
I’m not usually one for dancing, but there’s something immensely enticing about letting all of your inhibitions fade away. I weave my fingers through my hair as the music rushes through me like sparklers being set off beneath my skin. Emmett continues to eye me as if he’s imagining unwrapping me like a present…with his teeth. His hips gyrate against me, sending a thrill straight to my throbbing heat. I don’t necessarily know how I feel about Emmett, but I do know without a doubt that he’s attractive. Funny. Sweet.
And if the boner pressing against my stomach is any indication, hung.
For a brief moment, I consider asking him to leave with me. I haven’t gotten laid since a random hookup after my breakup with Uriel, and I’m desperate for it. Needy. I want to feel loved and wanted, to have someone worship my body with all the reverence of a priest of old times offering sacrifices to the vindictive, beautiful goddess.
Before the words can formulate, Emmett’s entire body stiffens—and not just his dick. He glares at something over my shoulder with an expression I’m beginning to recognize. Despite already knowing what I’m going to see, I turn around, just as the Devils enter through the front door.
Immediately, whispers begin to rise up at the sight of all four of them together. The students act as if they’re seeing an ethereal unicorn standing beneath a rainbow while a leprechaun feeds it gold coins from his chamber pot. It’s a little nauseating.
Karsyn splits off from the other three, his broad shoulders disappearing from view as he enters the kitchen. The other Devils survey the party with varying expressions on their faces. Elias’s could best be described as disgusted, his eyes narrowed into thin slits as if he’s worried one of us filthy peasants will get too close and ruin his “tough guy” aura. Cassian is smirking like the flirtatious deviant he is, and when a girl passes, tittering obnoxiously, he winks at her. For some reason, that bothers me. It quite literally feels as if he lifted a bow, nocked an arrow, and allowed it to fly straight into my chest.
And then there’s Lucas.
His eyes are devoid of any feeling, any emotion, as he surveys the room. When two girls scramble up to him, blushing fiercely and twirling their hair around their fingers, he merely stares at them until they scamper away. He’s like an icicle hanging precariously from a low roof. Any second now, it’ll dislodge and pierce you.
“What the fuck are they doing here?” Emmett seethes, and I place a hand on his arm, drawing his attention back to me.
“It’s a party. They’re the most popular guys in school.” I roll my eyes. “Of course they’d be here.”
Karsyn returns from the kitchen at that exact moment, a nearly empty beer dangling from his fingers. This close, I can see the flush to his cheeks and the glossy sheen covering his eyes. When he moves, he sways, almost as if gravity itself is fighting against him.
He’s fucking wasted. Already.
How long has it been since the restaurant? An hour? Two?
Did he literally rob a fucking convenience store, but instead of stealing money, he stole alcohol?
Cassian eyes Karsyn with concern as he begins to wobble out the back door, never sparing me a glance. Lucas says something to Elias, the music masking his words, before clapping his hand on Cassian’s shoulder. The two of them follow an inebriated Karsyn, leaving Elias alone.
And I feel another stab of…something. Something I can’t name. Something I don’t want to know. It’s selfish and crazy, but a tiny piece of me is upset that they didn’t come to this party for me. And yes, I realize how horrible it sounds. I can feel it in my black heart as well. Only a monster as depraved as me would want the attention of demons as cruel and as tortured as them.
I want to prove to myself that what I feel for them is only a fleeting attraction. Stockholm syndrome, as some would say.
In a move that surprises both of us, I push onto my tiptoes and plant my lips onto Emmett’s. He freezes almost immediately, shock making him immobile, but it only takes him a second to overcome his surprise and kiss me back. His hands tangle in my hair, destroying the intricate curls Mariabella made, and angle my head to the side, deepening the kiss. I press my tongue to his lips, and he opens to me instantly. My hands travel over his broad shoulders as his own leave my hair, gripping my ass.
I quickly bring my hands to his wrists, dragging them back to my waist.
But he lowers them to my ass again.
For a second time, I grip his hands in a bruising grip and all but shove them off of me, attempting to pull my lips from his. Instead of relenting, he only digs his fingers in my hair once more, plundering my mouth with his tongue.
Emmett is ripped away from me with a growl that I’m not entirely sure is human. If I didn’t know that creatures like werewolves don’t exist, I would totally believe that Elias is part wolf right now. He radiates raw, primitive fury as he throws a punch at Emmett’s face. The other man staggers in surprise, blood dripping from his lips, before his eyes harden. He lunges at Elias like a fierce bull, headbutting him and propelling both men to the floor.
“Stop it,” I deadpan. “Oh no. Stop.”
They continue pummeling each other’s faces.
“Please stop,” I continue dryly.
No response.
I turn towards the girl gaping beside me and shrug my shoulders once. “I tried.”
As a crowd gathers around the fighting boys—and that’s what they are, little boys—I weave my way through the crowd, feeling dirty and slimy.
What the hell was Emmett doing? I know I instigated the kiss, but did he really have to keep groping my ass when I tried to get him to stop? I tell myself he was no doubt in the heat of the moment, his body taking on a mind of its own, but it doesn’t negate the icky feeling unfurling in my stomach.
And Elias…
I don’t need a fucking knight in shining armor. And if I did, that role definitely wouldn’t fall to him. He’s the dragon keeping me locked in a tower, unable to escape. I can never free myself from him.
Wrapping my arms around my waist, I debate texting Nana to pick me up early. Or hell, even Mariabella. There’s a lot I need to discuss with my friend.
My decision solidifying, I step into the backyard, leave the outdoor pool through a door in the fence, and begin to walk around the side of the house, currently devoid of any students. I take my phone out of my pocket and shoot a text to Mariabella. Her response is instantaneous.
Mariabella: Sorry. Can’t. Sick.
Sick? She looked fine when she left my house.
Me: No problem. Feel better!
I text Nana next, and she replies saying Christian will be at the address in a half hour.
I’ve just reached the corner of the house when I notice a hulking shadow sitting on the ground, his back against the house and his body slumped forward. My steps slow as I squint my eyes.
“Karsyn?”
His blond hair, still buzzed from my little prank, has what looks like a piece of candy stuck in it. Before I can stop myself, I reach forward and pluck it from the short strands.
He lifts his head and blinks at me drowsily, almost as if he’s having difficulty recognizing me. Instead of the usual hatred I expect to see from his piercing hazel eyes, I see nothing but sadness. It’s so pronounced and suffocating that I stagger back a step.
“What the hell is up with you?” I ask before I can remind myself that I don’t care. I shouldn’t care. I should rejoice in his pain the way he did mine, the way he no doubt still does.
“Mariabella broke up with me,” Karsyn says dispassionately. He averts his attention to the beer bottle between his fingers. Fiver others litter the grass around him.
I swallow uneasily, knowing damn well that I’m the cause of their breakup.
“I’m sorry.”
I don’t know for sure if my words are sincere or not.
Karsyn laughs hollowly, smashing his head against the brick siding of the house.
“Don’t be. Don’t ever feel sorry for me, Peony Simone,” he slurs as he takes another chug of his beer. “Monsters deserve this…and more.”
I know I should leave, but I can’t help but inch a step closer to him, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“Is that what you think you are?” I ask carefully, gauging his reaction. “A monster?”
Another deranged laugh leaves his lips, and the distinct scent of alcohol barrages my senses.
“I know I am, princess. The worst kind. The kind that makes all other demons terrified.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say lightly, unable to comprehend why the fuck I’m comforting him. “I’m pretty sure if the devil ever rose from the ground, he would cower before the likes of Lucas Scott, not you.”
Karsyn roars in laughter, slapping his knee and causing the beer to douse his jeans.
“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?” I murmur, and a twisted part of me wants to use that to my advantage. It wants to learn all of his secrets, humiliate him, make him pay.
But I made rules for myself when I indulged on this revenge scheme, and there are certain lines I refuse to cross.
“I don’t even know why!” He whacks his head once more against the wall, and I can’t quite hide my wince at the noise. He’s going to bruise his fucking head if he keeps this up, and that thought bothers me more than I care to admit.
“It’s because you’re sad,” I say softly. “Mariabella broke up with you.”
“But our relationship was never like that,” Karsyn responds cryptically, confusing the ever-loving shit out of me. His long, curled lashes flutter shut before they reopen, spearing me in place. “Peony, I’m sorry.”
“You’re…what?” All I can do is gape at him, sure I heard him wrong. “For what? For talking to me now?”
“I’m so, so sorry for all of the horrible things I’ve done to you. I’m sorry for taking your homework and pissing on it. I’m sorry for picking on you in gym class. I’m sorry for cutting off your hair…”
The more he speaks, the angrier I become. It’s like he’s repeatedly picking at old wounds that barely had a chance to scab over. The things he did…
It sounds even worse coming out of his deliciously cruel mouth.
“Do you remember in seventh grade?” I interrupt his rambling, kneeling down before him. He blinks rapidly up at me, as if my face is too blurry and distorted for him to focus on. “In Mrs. Lysol’s English class?”
“I was always so fucking jealous of you,” he slurs. “You were always so much smarter than me.”
My lips twitch, but I continue on as if I haven’t heard him. “She used to force us to write short stories every day, remember? Based on whatever prompt she gave us?”
His brows furrow together as he attempts to figure out where I’m going with this story.
“Yeah…?”
“You sat directly in front of me.” I lick my chapped lips, moving my gaze away from his eyes to rest them instead on his forehead. It’s easier to speak when I’m not looking directly at him. Though, with the way his body is tilting and his eyes are blinking, I have the distinct feeling that he’s not truly seeing me. Maybe that’s what gives me the courage to continue speaking—the fact that he won’t remember this story in the morning.
“We were always graded on a ten-point scale, do you remember? Ten was the highest you could get, and zero was the lowest.”
“I don’t understand,” he murmurs, squinting up at me.
“I always got a zero on that assignment,” I admit. “Because I never turned in an actual story. Instead, I just doodled pretty pictures on the sheet of paper before turning it in.” I remember that the teacher had been infuriated with me, calling my mom after the tenth turned in assignment. Mom, of course, didn’t care enough to attend the parent-teacher conference. So instead, Mrs. Lysol gave me a warning—actually write a short story, or she’d continue giving me zeros on the assignment. And if I got zeros on all of them, the highest my grade in the class could be was a C+.
“I don’t get it,” Karsyn says, jutting his lower lip out petulantly.
“I never wrote a story, Karsyn, because I was too busy reading yours.”
“Huh?” He cocks his head in confusion.
“It felt like the one weapon I had in my war against the Devils,” I say, unwittingly saying their nickname out loud. I wait to see if he’ll respond to that, but he’s too out of it to do more than blink wearily up at me. “I thought that I would be able to pick you apart and destroy you if I could read all of your hidden thoughts.”
His brows scrunch even further together, until there’s a noticeable crease directly in the center of his forehead.
“I suck at writing,” he murmurs. “I don’t think I got above a five on any of those assignments.” He scratches at the stubble coating his jawline. “Words are hard.”
“You’re right.” I nod firmly. “The stories sucked. The one about the camel taking a rocket ship to Mars and then finding the gold toilet? Classic.” I rub my hands together before placing them both on my knees. My muscles are cramping from holding myself in a crouched position for so long, but the grass is too damp for me to sit down on. “But I figured something else out about you, Karsyn. Something I don’t think you wanted me to know.”
“What?” He frowns, those glazed eyes of his seeming to stare into my soul.
“That you’re lonely. At least, that you were lonely. Each of your stories were about one little boy, taking on the world by himself. No friends to help him. No parents. Why is that, Karsyn? And then it got me thinking…the reason you tortured me. The reason you humiliated me. It’s because you hated yourself, didn’t you? And you couldn’t damn well take that hatred out on yourself, so you instead put it onto me and made me the villain of your story.”
He releases a bark of dry laughter. “So you think you know me because of some stupid shit I wrote when I was, like, thirteen?” I shake my head mutely, but that only seems to exacerbate his anger. “Then what the fuck are you going on about?” he rages, but as quickly as his anger rises, it deflates, almost like air leaving an overfilled balloon with a loud hiss. He sags against the wall once more, his head lolling to stare at me sleepily. “I hated Elias, Lucas, and Cassian when I first met them, back in elementary school.”
I bite my lip, thinking back to that time. Before I became public enemy number one. Before my life was a living hell. Before they targeted me.
And I remember…
Four cute boys, their bond closer than that of most blood relatives.
/>
And me, the tiny girl who followed them around with wide eyes. I thought they would be my protectors, my slayers against this cruel world and the beasts living inside of it, but instead, they proved themselves to be the monsters.
“I thought Cassian was an annoying prick who talked too much. I thought Elias was always trying too hard to be a cool little shit and didn’t care about anyone but himself. And don’t even get me started on Lucas. Did you know that he once destroyed all of my shit in my locker and then blamed it on Tony Farter?”
I can’t quite reconcile his words with the image of the four of them in my head. It’s almost as if he’s talking about a different quad entirely.
“Why would he do that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Karsyn laughs, the sound darker than the night currently pressing in on us. When he doesn’t continue, his huge body slumping forward, I release a heavy sigh before reaching forward and giving both his cheeks a gentle slap. His eyes flutter as they fix on me, and I roll my own heavenward.
“Come on. Get up, you ugly fucker,” I murmur, rising to my feet and extending a hand. He eyes it as if he doesn’t quite know what he’s supposed to do with it, before locking his fingers with mine and allowing me to pull him to his feet. His big body sways, but I quickly wrap my arm around his waist. He practically dwarfs me, and I doubt my tiny frame will be much help if he tumbles, but he seems alert enough to walk with my assistance.
I dig my phone out and quickly scroll through the web until I find the nearest cab company. Then I dial the number, rattle off the address, and hang up.
“What are you doing?” Karsyn murmurs, his body at an unnatural angle so he can rest his head on my shoulder.
“Calling you a cab, jackass. You’re drunk and it’s late and I don’t know where the rest of your evil friends are.”
“Probably partaking in a sacrificial blood ritual,” Karsyn murmurs dryly, and I snort.
“You can’t even begin to understand the irony behind that statement,” I say, too soft for him to hear.