by Rachel Jonas
Contents
Copyrights
Written by Rachel Jonas
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Join the Shifter Lounge
A note from the Authors
Soundtrack
About Rachel Jonas
COPYRIGHTS
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including, but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Rachel Jonas & Nikki Thorne.
Copyright © 2020 Nikki Thorne & Rachel Jonas
All rights reserved.
Edited by Rachel Jonas.
Cover Design by Rachel Jonas. All Rights Reserved.
Interior Design and Formatting by Stephany Wallace at @S.W. Creative Publishing co. All Rights Reserved.
This e-book is licensed for personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.
If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Published October 16th, 2020
WRITTEN AS RACHEL JONAS
THE LOST ROYALS SAGA
The Genesis of Evangeline
Dark Side of the Moon
Heart of the Dragon
Season of the Wolf
Fate of the Fallen
DRAGON FIRE ACADEMY
First Term
Second Term
Third Term
THE VAMPIRE'S MARK
Dark Reign
Hell Storm
Cold Heir
Crimson Mist
WRITTEN AS RACHEL JONAS
& NIKKI THORNE
KINGS OF CYPRESS PREP
The Golden Boys
DESCRIPTION
West Golden—so easy to hate, yet so hard to resist.
Don’t let that pretty face of his fool you. He isn’t the boy next door, or the kind you trust with your heart. He’s the devil in designer jeans, with all the charm of a bona fide psycho.
Trust me.
He swears I did something to cross him before I even stepped foot inside Cypress Prep, but it’s a lie. No one knows better than me that I’m all out of chances. One more misstep and I can kiss my future goodbye, which means I can’t possibly be guilty of whatever he thinks I’ve done.
West marks me with a target anyway, and as this town’s football star, no one dares to go against him. His money, status, and the loyalty of his equally entitled brothers makes him seem untouchable. Only, I know better than that.
This false god isn’t infallible like he wants the world to believe. Whenever I stare into those devilish green eyes, I see it plain as day. The chink in his armor. His one and only weakness.
Me.
The king of Cypress Prep has finally met his match and taking him down just became an inside job.
To my Blue-Jay:
You looked so peaceful I didn’t have the heart to wake you. If I’m being completely honest, writing was the only way I stood a chance of getting through this without crying. Wish we could all be tough girls like you…
Since I know how much you hate when I get all worked up, I’ll make this quick.
I’m taking off for a bit, sweetheart. You, Scarlett, and Hunter are my world, so I won’t be gone long. Two weeks tops. You’ll barely have time to miss me. Promise.
Before you even think it, this has absolutely nothing to do with you guys. Me and your dad’s mess is just that.
Our mess.
Thin walls make it hard to keep secrets, so I’m sure you noticed the screaming matches have gotten worse. I think the only way to fix what’s broken between him and me is to give each other space. We’ll never learn to make it work if the only way we communicate is through an argument. Hopefully, some peace and quiet will help me sort through it all. Maybe he’ll put the bottle down and do the same while I’m gone.
Not a day will go by that I won’t be thinking about you three. Hunter’s working on something that might bring some cash into the house, so he might be hard to reach for a while. That’s why I’m counting on you to take care of Scar, but I’m not the least bit worried she won’t be looked after. You’re so good with her. Sometimes, I think you’re a better mother to her than I ever was. God doesn’t make big sisters like you very often, so she looks up to you for good reason.
I’m getting out of here before your father wakes up and raises hell when he realizes my bags are packed. He drank himself to sleep last night, which means he’ll be a bear when he stumbles out of bed in a little while. It’s probably not a bad idea for you girls to stay out of his way if you can.
To keep my head clear, I turned off my phone. Just leave a message and I’ll call when I can.
There’s a twenty on the kitchen table to put a few groceries in the fridge until Hunter comes back with whatever he gets his hands on. No junk food, Blue! I mean it! It’ll come back to haunt you during basketball season.
Miss you kids already. Kiss Scarlett for me. Be home when the dust settles.
—Mom
Chapter 1
—June, Four Months Later—
BLUE
Crumpling her written words lifts a weight.
It’s something I should’ve done the morning I found this very sheet of coffee-stained paper taped to my door. Instead, I’d folded it neatly and placed it inside my wallet, like a tiny shrine I carry with me wherever I go.
I’ve always pined over the scraps of love she leaves behind, littered throughout my life. Then, at the worst possible times, I stumble across them again. Like now, while an epic party rages all around me and I forego a perfectly good opportunity to just be young and free. Why? Because rummaging through my clutch for a stick of gum led me to this note and I’m suddenly stuck, contemplating Mom’s twisted version of love. I should be chatting up some cute guy, or dancing like the world is ending tomorrow, but nope.
“Found you! Looks like my hoe-bag radar is still spot on,” Jules slurs.
A smile replaces my true expression so quickly it’s scary.
“You say
such sweet things,” I tease back, smoothing both palms down the white, linen shorts she insisted I borrow. They were part of a package deal—black tank, black heels and silver hoops included. The only visible article that actually does belong to me is my clutch.
More playful than usual, Jules gently tugs the blonde, fishtail braid on my shoulder. She’d styled it for me while we waited for our ride a few hours ago. Could’ve done it myself, but this stupid splint on my finger makes the simple things practically impossible.
For future reference, the downside of punching someone in the face is the fractured knuckle that comes along with it. But I gotta be honest; it was so worth it. Even if it did result in an end-of-year expulsion and nearly cost me my impending shot at Cypress Prep.
It isn’t something I’d do again, but also isn’t something I regret.
Taking note of Jules’ glassy eyes, her intoxication means I’ve failed. It was on me to make sure she didn’t get out of hand tonight, but finding the letter served as the perfect distraction.
“Whoa! Where’d you come from?” she hiccups, speaking directly to the brick wall she’s clumsily stumbled into.
My hand shoots out to steady the klutzy red-head now leaning beside me. She’s lucky I have quick reflexes.
“Enjoying yourself yet?” she asks reluctantly. “I know you’d rather be at the court or something, instead of hanging on the north side, but I think tonight’s important.”
“So you keep telling me,” I murmur.
Her eyes dart to the back of her head when she rolls them. “Because Jules knows best,” she so readily reminds me.
This—the party scene, these clothes, the lashes and makeup—it’s all her thing, not mine. Especially in this part of town.
As if cued by the universe, sharp screams pierce the air. I look left, toward a trio of girls cannonballing into a well-lit, turquoise-colored pool.
North Cypress is home to the wealthy, the elite. Southsiders like Jules and me stick out like a couple sore thumbs. I can feel it. Standing here—on the lawn of some privileged, rich dick’s sprawling estate—I’m more than aware that we’re out of our element. Yet, I kept my word and came.
Sure, the lure of free drinks and an overabundance of eye candy played a part in Jules insisting I be dragged here against my will, but it’s more than that. This is her way of helping me get acclimated to this world, before I’m shoved into it without a harness at the start of the coming school year.
Starting early September, I’d be at their mercy Monday through Friday. Only to make the trek back to reality at the end of the day, back to my side of town where every night ends the same. With me being serenaded to sleep by the only tune South Cypress has ever known—police sirens and barking dogs.
Home sweet home.
“Do you even know anyone here?” As soon as I ask, my eyes follow a couple who pass by without even noticing us. Mostly because they’re tearing at one another’s clothes like animals, before slipping into the guesthouse through the side door.
“Nope,” Jules answers. “Pandora mentioned the party would be wild, dropped the address here in Bellvue Hills, and I decided we had to crash. Don’t even know whose pad this is.”
I love that she decided my fate before I was even made aware.
“Pandora?
Jules nods. “Mystery girl who tells everyone’s business on all her social accounts.”
“Is—” Before I can ask for clarification about this Pandora chick, I’m cut off abruptly.
“There have to be at least a few hundred people here, don’t you think?” Jules’ words are muffled because she’s speaking them down the neck of a bottle.
She finishes the sip and her head hits my shoulder as I shrug. “Somewhere in the ballpark.”
“Took me forever to find you. I was starting to think you were hiding from me.” There’s an added layer of emotion beneath the statement because she’s more drunk than I realized.
“Never from you, beautiful,” I tease. “I always stand near vomit-filled trashcans at parties. It’s kind of my thing.”
A man-sized burp slips from between her lips and she hardly notices.
“I know you’re being sarcastic,” she observes, “and if I remember in the morning, I’m sure I’ll be offended. So, be ready for an earful.”
Even drunk, she can draw a laugh out of me.
The sound of my ringtone has Jules’ attention before mine. She’s surprisingly alert, considering the state she’s in. Or just plain nosey.
“Him again?”
“Yep.” I barely glance at the screen before pressing ‘ignore’.
“You know you can’t dodge his calls forever, right?”
When I shrug again, her head lifts with the movement. “It’s been working out great so far.”
“Keyword: so far.” The booze-infused breath that wafts past my nose with the comment has me turning my head in the other direction before she continues. “He’s pigheaded. You know that better than anyone.”
Unfortunately, I do know that better than anyone.
“Maybe you should call back? Maybe he’s heard from Hunter and—”
“And, truth be told, I’m good either way,” I cut her off. “Hunter did what he did, and now he’s right where he belongs. End of story.”
Her glassy stare doesn’t let up. I feel it.
“Fine,” she concedes, “I’ll drop it.”
“Thank you.”
Wild, red curls bob when she lifts her head to nod, but she’s suddenly focused on my hand. Or, rather, what I’m holding.
“What’s this?”
I miss the chance to withdraw the letter I’m clutching and it’s hers now. She’s managed to uncrumple it some before I snatch it back, but not without tearing the small corner she gripped.
“It’s nothing important.”
Which is true. My mother’s words aren’t important. Lies never are.
“Geez! Could’ve fooled me,” Jules scoffs, speaking to my back now because I’ve started toward the bonfire.
People dance around the flames, screaming the lyrics to Ice Cube’s ‘Today Was a Good Day’, and it looks like they’re taking part in some kind of new-age mating ritual. Hell, that might be a pretty accurate conclusion.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I straighten the letter and hold it to the flames, letting it catch. I wait until the last possible second to finally release it, nearly burning my fingertips when I stall. This seems fitting, though. That’s me in a nutshell; never quite sure when I’ve had enough.
A family curse, in fact.
A beer is slipped into my hand half a second before Jules steps into my peripheral. Momentarily, I’m fixated on the fire through the tinted brown glass of the bottle when I bring it to my lips for a drink.
There’s a strange tug in my heart as the last visible fragment of paper disintegrates into nothing. Unlike most girls, I don’t own trinkets or mementos passed down from my mother. The only gift either of my parents ever gave me was a list of vices longer than my arm.
“You good? We can take off if you want.”
Jules’ hand settles on my shoulder, and I don’t miss that she’s trying to be thoughtful. However, I know this girl like the back of my hand, and her heart is nowhere in the offer.
“I’m fine. We can hang out a couple more hours if you want.”
I barely have the words out before she floats off again, finding some rando to grind all over. It’s cool, though. There’s a brick wall near a vomit-filled trashcan with my name on it.
I glance toward the flames one last time, knowing what they’ve just burned out of my life. However, the aching grip of sentiment fades quickly. All because my attention is drawn above the blaze, lured higher by an invisible force to meet three matching stares already fixed on me. Beneath half-mast lids, their brooding eyes—close-set like a pack of marauding predators—have me feeling soul-obsessed and I can’t turn away. Their physical features are too similar, which is why I draw the con
clusion that they must be brothers.
These raven-haired deities have definitely noticed me, and now I even think they might be talking about me. Two lean in to speak closely to the one in the middle. Like some beautiful huddle of hotness.
Seriously? A ‘huddle of hotness’? That’s the best you can come up with, Blue?
Clearly, my brain is fried. Only becoming more frazzled by the second.
There they sit, perched on chairs identical to the others scattered across the yard. Only, beneath them, I’m convinced they’re thrones. It’s their presence that makes the difference, sets them apart from all the other guys I noticed tonight.
They’re large, broad in all the right places—across the shoulders and their chests. The effects of this are emphasized by the tapering of tight, athletically lean torsos. I’ve met people who command a room, but never anyone so formidable in the wide-open space, as these three are.
Where have they been hiding all night?
Even when the two at either side become distracted by the pair of wet, bikini-clad robots who bounce over to vie for their attention, the one in the middle stays focused. Firelight burns in his eyes like hellfire, this creature I swear emits sex like trees give oxygen. Completely gone on him, I swear his soul moves right across this yard, steps through the flames, and breathes the heat of a million suns over my skin. He’s all I see, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Simply because I’m not sure he’s deserving of that.