Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2)

by Shana Vanterpool

  “No,” I admitted. “Piper?”

  “Go,” she said, releasing me. “We’ll be down in a minute.”

  “But,” I stammered, not wanting to be alone.

  Jona bent over suddenly and threw me over his shoulder.

  “Put me down!” How dare he! I tried to keep my skirt down.

  He pinched my side. “You’re even sweet when you yell.”

  He walked down the stairs with me bouncing on his back, weaving through the bodies on the first floor. I spotted an upside down kitchen counter and then he set me down on my feet in the kitchen.

  “You want some advice?” he asked, giving it to me anyway as I huffed in irritation. “Stay in the house. Don’t go in the garage. Don’t drink anything unless you open it. And remember something.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapped away, and then held it up. Bach’s name was on the screen. “I can call him in a second.”

  The music was so loud I had to lean in to hear him. There were people drinking beer and picking at a pizza on the counter. The women were dressed like me and the men like Jona, jeans and sin, tattoos and alcohol. I looked away for a safe spot, landing on the fridge with a boob magnet. It was better than naked boobs. Which I feared I could locate without a problem.

  “Bach isn’t my boss.”

  “Then I am.” Something over my shoulder caught his attention before he could continue. “Justine!” he shouted.

  I looked over to find a breathtaking woman approaching us. She was dark hair, dark brown eyes, and confidence. Her skin was slightly tanned from the summer heat, and her lips were the color of bubble gum. When I turned back to Jona, his mouth was hanging open.

  “What, asshat?”

  He grinned suddenly, a much more natural smile than any he’d given the girls or me. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, putting his mouth over her ear. As he talked, Justine’s eyes widened with shock, and then a naughty smile lifted her pink lips as her eyes landed on me.

  “No way,” she said, laughing. “Yeah, sure. What are you going to be doing?”

  Jona looked away, and I caught the slight tightening of her eyes. “I’ve got to finish getting dressed. She’s all yours, Angel.” He nudged me forward closer to her and then left the room.

  Justine glared at his retreating back before looking at me. “You look just like him. It’s crazy.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “I agree. If you want to party, by all means, party. You want to party, don’t you, Little Miss Perfect The Second? Piss brother Bach off?”

  “Who’s the first?” I wondered, hugging myself. A guy slipped around me, eyeing my legs. I looked away, shrinking from his laughter.

  “Harley.” Her expression changed, saddening almost. “I could use a new Little Miss Perfect. You want a drink?”

  “Was Harley your friend?”

  She shrugged. “Harley’s, you know, out being perfect. She doesn’t have time for anyone but Bach. Yes, or no?”

  “Umm …” I panicked. I didn’t want to drink. “I’m driving.”

  “You can sleep here. There’s a spare bedroom upstairs.”

  “I don’t really drink.” Besides a few sips of Mom’s wine when she wasn’t looking when I was a child, I’d found no joy in consuming alcohol.

  She chuckled and shook her head. “No wonder Bach kept you a secret. You’re a snooze fest.”

  Is that why Bach pushed me away? Because I was boring? Nothing like the people he wanted to know?

  How dare him.

  I wanted him; he knew the part of me I never got to meet. He was my only shot at ever knowing what it felt like to be whole. To learn he was ashamed of me, hurt on a level I’d never felt. My heart burned, and my body heat flared with the rush of my anger.

  I could show him. I could be just like these people.

  I could be a wolf.

  “Okay. I want a drink.”

  Justine grinned darkly, pleased by my act of defiance. “That’s right. When it comes to Bach, you have to beat him at his own game. We’re winning tonight.”

  She led me into the wolves’ den.

  ***

  My first shot burned like fire.

  Justine gave me a grin that was less proud, but more determined, as if ridding me of the things Bach did not like was her mission.

  It tasted like bitter flames sliding down my throat. I tried to spit it out, but she shook her head, glaring as the men in the garage piled around us. I was overwhelmed. There was rap music and vodka, men and their eyes, and then there was Justine, shoving shots in my hand, urging me away from the girl Bach didn’t want.

  I’d spent my life craving the other side of my family tree. I wanted to understand what it felt like to have a father. A man who was proud of the woman I had become. Someone who gave me the part of me I was missing. Was it fair to put that on Bach? Probably not, but he was all I had. My father was in prison, would be for a long time. I couldn’t have him. But I thought perhaps I could’ve had my brother. Apparently my brother wanted nothing to do with me. His bastard sister, the one he hadn’t claimed.

  The sister he avoided.

  Betrayal and heartache settled inside of me, making the shot easier to take.

  Justine led me over to a sitting area in the garage. There were men and as she greeted them I studied them all out of fear. Where was Piper? I wanted my keys so I could leave. This wasn’t my world. I wanted out, into my own bed, and to fall asleep knowing who I was, instead of ignoring the half a person Bach shoved aside.

  “Who’s this sweet thing?” a male voice inquired.

  I looked over fearfully and met the silver eyes of Zane Eastwood. He was sitting down. But even from his position he looked intimidating. Muscles wrapped around his biceps, which were on display in a sleeveless shirt. He had a ball cap on, hiding his dark blond hair. I swallowed hard and looked away, ignoring him. He had sex with Piper. I had no business talking to him.

  A hand grabbed mine. I looked back down to find Zane waiting expectantly. “What’s your name?”

  “She’s a little young for you, isn’t she?” Justine interjected, grabbing my hand free. “Here,” she offered, holding out a beer bottle.

  I gave it a sniff, finding it smelling musky and citrusy, and took a tentative sip. “Not bad,” I admitted. I’d prefer a coffee and a good book, but this wasn’t the time for what I wanted.

  Her eyes twinkled, and her mouth opened, prepared to speak, but a hand on her shoulder snagged her attention.

  “I don’t really like repeating myself,” Zane growled, pushing to his feet. He stumbled a bit and when he came close he smelled like vodka and this overpowering odor of pine needles and burnt things. Cigarettes, I guessed. “What’s your name?”

  “What do you want my name for?”

  He gave me a dirty grin and his eyes slid over my black skirt. “You’re not from here, are you?”

  Of course, he wouldn’t know me. I didn’t normally dress this way, and our circles were the moon and the sun. We rarely crossed but in passing. I had to remind myself I wasn’t dressed that way tonight. I was like all the other girls in this garage. Open, bare, showing the men what I had so they could take it. The thought made me ill. I didn’t want any man to take anything I had.

  “We had biology class last year, Zane. Professor Tucker.”

  He frowned, thinking back. “Still don’t remember.” He licked his lips. “Doesn’t matter whether I remember you. What matters is you remembered me.”

  I looked down, realizing my mistake. “It’s kind of hard to overlook you.”

  He grabbed my chin and lifted my face, his gray eyes boring into me as his fingers dug into my chin. “Tell me your name.”

  “Hillary,” I whispered, a sense of unease tingling in my stomach.

  His fingers were calloused on my chin, scraping against my soft skin. I just told the wolf my name. Even Little Red Riding Hood was shaking her head at me. Names were special. They were the one thing that stuck with you whe
rever you went. They marked you. And now Zane had it. Something about that made me pull away from his grasp.

  “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  His eyes bored into me. “You want help finding it?”

  “No,” I shouted, and then smiled a little to downplay my fear. By his grin, I think he heard it and liked it. “I’ll be right back.” I fumbled with my beer, feeling its oppressive weight in my hand.

  “I’ll hold it for you.” He took the stem of the bottle from me, and I handed it over willingly. “It’ll be here waiting for you when you get back.”

  “Uh, thanks,” I mumbled, backing gratefully away from him.

  So Bach didn’t want me. My father didn’t want me. I’d just learn to deal with it. This house, these people, they weren’t where I was supposed to be. An uneasy pressure chased me out of the garage. I shoved my way through the bodies, wobbling in my heels. I opened a door and squealed. There were two people, naked from the waist down in the closet. The man was thrusting into her, and she had her head tossed back, her eyes glassy as they met mine. She grinned, and I covered my eyes, slamming the door shut. “Ugh!” I kept going, searching until I found a bathroom. Once inside, I locked myself in and sank down on the filthy toilet.

  I had to get out of here. I could always walk home and come back to get my car tomorrow. Someone pounded on the door, screaming about how badly they wanted to drain their anaconda. I ignored them and looked around, heart pounding for reasons I didn’t understand. It smelled like pee, and the ground was dirty, with panties on the floor and condom wrappers. I gagged, covering my mouth with my hand. One of the condoms were pink and covered in white slime. Tears pricked my eyes. I wanted out of here. Under Jasmine’s order I’d left my purse at home. My cell was on my bed in my purse, and I was all by myself in a wolves’ den for reasons that didn’t mean anything anymore.

  Covering my head in my hands, I tried to breathe in and out, pulling peace from within.

  There was another knock on the door. “Hillary?”

  I looked up at the sound of Zane’s voice. “What?”

  “Come out, sweetheart. There’s a line.”

  “Just a minute.” I eyed the rusted faucet and the sludge around the sink, and thought better of watching my hands. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door, finding Zane waiting with my beer still in hand. I smiled shyly and took it when he handed it to me. “Thanks.”

  “Of course.” He grabbed my upper arm and led me away from the line of glaring people. “Let’s go somewhere quiet. Drink your beer, sweetheart. You look thirsty.”

  I wondered what that looked like. Were my lips chapped? I brought the beer to my lips and took a sip as he led us by the stairs. “Can we go to Jona’s room?” For some reason I wanted Jona. He had an air about him, but he knew Bach, and that meant deep down Jona wasn’t all bad.

  “Sure.” He pulled me along after him. “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen,” I supplied, taking another drink. The taste had changed. It was chalkier and salty, less citrusy. I guess that happened when a beer sat. It was warm also, tasting like musky chalky urine. I made a face and forced it down. “How old are you?” I asked at the top of the stairs, wanting him to let my arm go.

  “Old enough. You know you’re tempting me right? Those innocent eyes in those sexy clothes? Drink your beer. It’s gross once it’s warm.”

  An uncomfortable blush crept over me, and beneath that I wanted free. I pulled on my arm and stepped back, eyes on Jona’s door as I realized in disappointment that it was open. “Jona?” I called, stepping inside his empty room.

  “He’s probably downstairs. It’s so loud. Why don’t we sit in here?” Zane brushed against me, silver gaze intent as he blocked the door.

  I didn’t want to be alone with Zane or for him to get the wrong idea. “I’d rather go back downstairs.”

  “Don’t you want to talk to me?” He smiled a little. “I don’t bite, you know.”

  I didn’t believe him. Something inside told me he bit. And when he did it was hard. “We can talk downstairs.”

  He shook his head and shoved my hip, moving me inside. He grabbed the door and closed it, turning the lock in one swift motion. If I hadn’t been watching his hand, I wouldn’t have even known he locked the door. He did it so fast, as if he were more accustomed to locking people in rather than letting them out.

  “We’re talking in here.” His tone hardened. He pointed to the bed. “Sit. Relax. You seem uncomfortable being here. Why?”

  I didn’t want to move from the door. He hadn’t. I wouldn’t either. “It’s not my idea of fun.”

  “What is?”

  Why was he pretending to want to know me? “I don’t know. What’s yours?” Maybe if he talked about himself he’d be more willing to end this awkward exchange. Move! I wanted out of this room, into my car, and out of this house. Jona was right. I should’ve left.

  “This,” he said, tone low, eyes lower. “Let’s sit down.” He took my arm again and led us deeper into the room. There were beanbag chairs on the floor. He pulled both close and pointed. “Pink or purple?”

  On the edge of my thoughts the unpleasant feeling chasing me around began to intensify. I sat slowly, watching him settle into the purple beanbag chair. He crossed his legs and then folded his hands in his lap. Not once had his eyes strayed from me.

  “You’re not drinking your beer.”

  I refrained from rolling my eyes and took a long swig. One, so I could look elsewhere, and two, so he could get off my back. If I finished it, we could leave to get another, and then I could finally be free. I closed my eyes and drank the beer down, swallowing the gritty chalkiness at the bottom. “There.” I set the empty bottle down on the floor. “Beer’s gone.” When I looked at him, he was grinning.

  His grin made my blood chill. It wasn’t happy. It was pleased, the way Mr. Pinchman is when his dog obeys. I looked down and pulled my skirt, trying to cover my thighs. Why did I agree to wear this?

  His foot began to tap. I stared at his white sneaker, watching the heel rapidly hit the ground.

  “You’re so damn hot, Hillary.”

  My eyes shot to his face. “Umm …” How was I was supposed to respond to that? “Not a compliment I get every day. Thanks?” My question hung there, dangling from his unsettling smile.

  “Aren’t you attracted to me?” He licked his lips.

  I shifted in my beanbag chair. I felt pinned down to this one spot, as if his presence was imprisoning me. My thoughts felt slightly off balance. “Zane.”

  “Yes or no?” His tone darkened. “It’s a simple question. You either want me, or you don’t? Not that it matters,” he continued quietly. He glanced down at the black watch on his wrist, and then returned his eyes to my face. “Answer me.”

  Piper found this attractive? What’s so attractive about this? “I don’t want you,” I admitted as nicely as I could. My head began to feel heavy. I shook it and found that my limbs had grown heavier. I felt a part of the beanbag chair. “I’m not like all your other girls.”

  “I know. That’s why I want you.”

  My stomach turned. I attempted to clutch at it, but when I tried to bring my hand up it took me a second to comprehend the motion. “I don’t feel good.”

  “You shouldn’t.” He leaned forward. “You just swallowed Rohypnol. Enough for four people actually. You really shouldn’t leave your opened drinks around people you don’t know, sweetheart. There’s some bad people out there.”

  My head snapped up, but when I tried to focus I couldn’t. My blood pumped quicker, making it hard to think. Rohypnol? In my confusion the word felt bad, rude, this frightening entity in the room waiting to get me. Fear exploded on the edge of my brain. Date-rape drug. I didn’t even think about it. I tried to bolt to my feet. But the action was sloppy, and my legs felt weak. I made it one step before my knees hit the ground. This consuming fear, a level I had never experienced before, shot through my body. It sped up my blood, intensified t
he poison in my body.

  “No!” I shouted, when his arms came around my waist. But my words were gibberish.

  “Oh shut up,” Zane snapped, picking me up easily. I tried to claw at his face. He knocked my hands away. When my teeth sought his flesh he threw me on the bed and followed his weight with my body. “You can’t come to a party dressed like that, look like this, and then expect me not to want you.” He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked so hard I cried out, and then he crushed his lips to mine.

  Think! I had to maim him, or distract him. All I had to do was get to the door, unlock it, and scream for help. But my body felt hollow. My limbs were empty. My brain felt sloshy. His tongue probed my mouth, tasting strongly of cigarette and vodka. I tried to turn my face to the side, but he followed, moaning the way monsters do. I ran his susceptible body parts through my head. Eyes, sternum, and groin. His taste turned my stomach, and my thoughts thickened, feeling more like mud than moving matter. My opened eyes were shielded by his hat. It was a Crystal Gulf University Gators cap.

  I felt his hand on my thigh. When I tried to clinch my legs he roughly shoved them open and settled between them, humping me like a rabid dog. It felt like he weighed a ton. The panic overtaking my body was mixing with the confusion. I was terrified and yet my brain couldn’t comprehend what was truly happening. As if my fear had amplified the effects of the drugs. It wasn’t really happening. For all I knew I was asleep, and this was simply a nightmare.

  But this wasn’t a dream.

  This was really happening.

  That single thought, that damaging truth, broke through the dam. I found his lip and bit down so hard I tasted metal. He roared and reared back, giving me enough room to roll over.

  “Even better. I’ll take you from behind.” He pushed my skirt up and tried to pull me back, gripping my waist.

  I grabbed the edge of the mattress and pulled, forcing my body to work around the drugs. “Get off of me! Help! Somebody help! Please!”

  “Shut up!” the monster growled, grabbing my hair so hard I felt my scalp tear when he yanked me back to him. He settled on top of me and covered my mouth with is hand as he tried to free his zipper.