Dare Me: A Bully Romance (Legends of the Ashwood Institute Book 1)

by Jayla Kane

  Now, he wasn’t listening to me anymore. If I wanted to get in the Vault, though, I needed to be his devoted slut-tastic Sineater, if that’s what it took; this was probably just more humiliation, considering how ridiculous I looked, but I was going to do my best to make Percy Shmercy spill about how much he hated Jake. That shouldn’t be hard; we certainly had enough in common to start a conversation, anyway.

  I walked onto the long veranda style porch, the original house probably a gorgeous Victorian from Ashwood’s early days, gutted and re-made into a rumpus room where rich assholes take jello shots. I tried to force my face into a smile but realized that wouldn’t work; if any of them went to high school with me or knew anything about my family, they knew I wasn’t the smiling type. Instead, I opted for a newer version, one they might buy: to use Jake’s awful-yet-useful description, a ‘cock-hungry slut’ on the hunt for my favorite Game Master potentiate. I sauntered up to the guy at the door drinking from a red solo cup, and watched his eyes follow my form from boots to tits.

  “Hi,” I said, and the smile I gave him was absolutely predatory. Ashwood has a funny relationship with the Society. For all its secretive this and that, pretty much everyone could guess who was in, and who wasn’t—with a few choice exceptions. It took a minute for my face to click into place for him. I was the Sineater, and he knew exactly who I represented.

  “Come in,” he said immediately, waving me past the door. “Fee’s waved, of course. Enjoy the—”

  “Percy,” I said, spinning back and taking him off-guard. “Where is he?”

  “Not sure,” he said, and ran his tongue over his bottom lip in a nervous way. “Can you hang on a second? I’ll text him. Right now.”

  I leaned against the door and watched him, trying to mimic Jake at his most entitled. It worked, and within ten seconds I felt a tentative tap on my shoulder. I winked at the doorman, who seemed to visibly melt with relief, then turned and looked at Percy, the man who could have saved me from Jacob Warfield.

  “To what do I owe the honor?” He was tall, thin, dark hair with a rakish smile. Unlike his frat brother, he didn’t seem intimidated in the least. “Sineater,” he said, nodding at me. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Thanks, I’m good,” I said, and was surprised when he slipped an arm through mine, guiding me through the dim room towards the back. The house was massive, of course, but for some reason much of it was cut up into smaller rooms, fun-house style. There was one large area in the front where most of the party-dwellers were clustered, and the kegs and open bar were set up there; Percy led me down a gloomy hall until we emerged in what must have been a formal dining room at one point, and was now a decent attempt. The furniture reminded me of the ‘majestic oak’ back in the dorms, but there was a cut crystal vase in the center of the long table and beautiful artwork on the walls. Glass cases held hundreds of trophies and pennants and ribbons; whatever else they were, the Delta boys were apparently keen on competitions. I sat down in the seat across from Percy, who then pointed to a table with a pitcher of water and two beautiful glasses. “I could drink some water, thank you,” I said, and he nodded, getting up and returning with my drink before sitting down again. The music of the party grew louder, the crowd’s murmurs sinking into the atmosphere around us, and I found myself leaning towards him. “Why did you want to be Game Master?”

  “Not the kind for small talk, huh,” he said with a sly smile, and rested his chin in his palm as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Alright then.”

  “I… I was just thinking…” I wondered if I should reach across the table, feign doe eyes; something about him seemed far too shrewd for such antics, though, and I decided it would be better if I waited. Percy lit his cigarette, watching me. “If you had been chosen, then—”

  “Did he send you?” Percy leaned back and cocked his head to the side, inhaling smoke before letting it trail out of his nose like a dragon. “Are you asking for him?”

  “Kind of,” I said, opting for the truth; something told me he already knew the answer. “I wanted to know for myself. Jacob Warfield and I have… A lot of history, most of it terrible. So I wondered…”

  “Ah,” he said softly, and his dark eyes flicked over my dress. He was handsome, actually, although I hadn’t realized it before; my head was full of the Game Master, whether I wanted it to be or not. Percy had a smile like a fox. “So he underestimated you, then. Sent you over in that dress—nice of him, by the way—and expected you to be a willing puppet?”

  “After the shit he pulled in high school, you would think he’d know better,” I said, and Percy gave me another sly smirk.

  “Still, you did wear the dress.” I shrugged. Percy took a long moment before he spoke again, those clever dark eyes of his running over every inch of me and then dwelling on my face, as if he could see my thoughts. “I wanted to be Game Master because of the power—because it would give me permission to do things on campus I would never otherwise be allowed to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like have a pride parade,” he said, and his sly little smile ripened into an open grin. “That’s why I thought they didn’t give it to me—I’m bi, and I don’t like apologizing for it. Being rich should come with a few perks,” he said, inhaling his cigarette again. “Sucking dick occasionally is one of mine.”

  “You think the Society didn’t name you Game Master because you’re attracted to men?”

  “And women,” he said softly, his black eyes glittering. “Don’t forget that.” He tilted his head, watching my reaction, and chuckled quietly. “And I said I thought that—not that it was true.”

  “What does that mean?” In spite of myself, I enjoyed bantering with Percy. I was intrigued by his sly confidence, and, if I was honest, I thought he was sexy. He seemed to know that too by the way his mouth curved up as I blushed at the realization.

  “Because the Society didn’t want me for Game Master,” he said, his voice barely more than a purr. I had to lean closer to hear him, and he obligingly brought that handsome face a little nearer to mine. “They wanted me to be The Song.”

  I abruptly leaned back, staring at him, and he gave me another vulpine smile. The Song was one of the twelve seats on the Council, like the Game Master and the Sineater, in theory, but so far I hadn’t encountered any other members of the Society—or been inducted in any of its procedures—until now. The Bull, the Maiden, the Wraith, the Wolf… They were all on campus right now, with me, the Sineater. “Is that normal? For someone so young to be—”

  “You tell me, Sineater,” he said softly, his black eyes taking in my face. “You and your… Partner, let’s say, are both freshmen. Do you think that’s normal?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, opting again for the honesty that came naturally, and he sighed and tapped his cigarette in an ashtray I hadn’t noticed before, a brass stand next to his chair.

  “Oh, go ahead and ruin it by being all sincere,” he said, and this time the smile he gave me was warmer. “I’m a junior, by the way. I’d say that’s a reasonable age for the responsibilities of the Song.”

  The Song was the only public speaker the Society allowed, its messenger. In as much as the Society allowed its existence to be acknowledged, the Song was the relay; if any real shit went down, the Song would be the only one to get in contact with the real world, to deal with the damage outside of the Society itself. It was a dangerous position, because it required total and utter anonymity—the Song and the Wolf were the only two people whose real identities could never, ever become public knowledge outside of the Society; if the Song became publicly known, they would automatically become publicly responsible for whatever the Society did. Even the Sineater had plausible deniability, in spite of blasting your name on a Facebook page the entire world could see. “You shouldn’t have told me,” I whispered, but he brought that lovely face closer to mine again and gazed at my lips in answer.

  “Why? Are you going to tell him?”

 
; Shit. Was I? “I… No, I don’t—”

  “You actually are a Sineater, aren’t you,” he murmured, and I felt his surprisingly strong, broad hand slide across the table and lightly envelop mine. “You like to be good, even when it hurts like hell.”

  “Everybody likes to be—”

  “No,” he said sharply, “very few do, and make no mistake, Raven Keller. You might, but that’s uncommon.” He leaned even closer, and I found myself slightly hypnotized by his dark eyes, the long, black lashes fluttering like bird’s wings as he studied my face. His index finger stroked mine. “Jacob Warfield doesn’t, for example.” Percy was six inches from my face. “I don’t.”

  “I…” Now he was five inches away. Four. Three.

  Two.

  “Hate to break this up,” a familiar voice drawled, and I snapped backward so abruptly I felt my spine clench. “But she’s needed. And, you know, she belongs to me.” The tone was casual until the emphasis landed and his voice descended into a growl. “Come on, Bird,” Jake rumbled in my ear, his heavy hand landing on my shoulder. I stood up automatically, as if I were connected to him by a leash, and Percy leaned back in his chair, his face cold.

  “Does she?” He cocked an eyebrow at Jake, utterly nonplussed. “Do you?” His eyes slid to my face, and my mouth tightened.

  “Raven,” Jake snarled, and I started to follow him, his hand now enveloping my wrist. I heard a chair scoot away from the table and glanced back to see Percy propped up on his outstretched arms at the end of it, his face still cold as ice.

  “Since you seem so possessive of this particular lovely,” he said coolly, “perhaps you’d be willing to leave Bailey alone.”

  Jake sighed and turned around, then leaned casually against the doorframe, the picture of reluctant boredom except for the tension in his hand where it roughly interlaced my fingers through his own. “This particular lovely doesn’t actually service me in the same way, despite her apparel,” he said, giving me a quick once over. “So I don’t—”

  “Bailey,” Percy said with deadly quiet, “is not intended for service. Unless,” he continued standing up and crossing his arms with a lingering look at my breasts, “you intend to share some of your… Favorites.”

  “No.” Jake’s voice was hard. Decisive. “This one’s mine.”

  “Then let Bailey off easy,” Percy said, shrugging with affected nonchalance this time, his clever face reserved. “If you’re so dedicated.”

  “Why?” Jake’s eyes had a wolfish gleam as they homed in on Percy’s. His opponent seemed to realize the same thing I had in his position, and opted for honesty.

  “Because she’s my little sister,” he said. “That’s why.”

  Jake rubbed his chin; I could tell he was weighing whether or not to use this information, to keep Bailey on a tighter leash now. Finally, he nodded at Percy. “Done. But this one—” He tilted his chin at me-- “Mine.”

  “Done,” Percy said, all vulpine grace. His eyes met mine a final time as Jake towed me from the room. “If you ever get tired of him, pretty Sineater, you know where to find me.” I did. The Song ran that Facebook page, the one I used to nominate myself for recruitment. I opened my mouth without knowing what to say, but by then Jake was tugging me down the grim, lightless hallway.

  “Let me go,” I snarled, but he pretended not to hear me. We were getting closer to the main entryway, the music thumping louder and louder as we went. “Let me go!” I wrenched my hand away from him, and he spun at me, his mouth a frightening snarl.

  “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” He leaned closer to my face, our eyes boring in to one another. “Disappearing into some back room at a goddamn rush party?”

  “I was with Percy—”

  “You don’t know Percy,” Jake snapped. “I don’t know Percy. He could’ve done anything, taken you god-knows-where in this fucking labyrinth and I never would’ve found you until they dumped you in the alley outside after everybody took a turn.”

  “You’re a fucking drama queen,” I said, shoving his chest. We were just inside the main room, and the crowd was starting to notice us. “Are you seriously trying to tell me you’re some kind of white knight?”

  “You’re a fucking idiot if you think every man in this entire building wouldn’t jump at the chance to stick his dick in you,” Jake sneered, but I wasn’t having it.

  “Not everyone thinks like you, Master,” I hissed. Before Jake could reply, three large frat boys approached us, surrounding him.

  “You guys alright?”

  “We’re fine,” Jake said, staring them down. They looked at me, and I shrugged, my face hot.

  “We’re not,” I said, “but we’re just leaving.”

  “How about you stay, and he goes?” One of the guys reached out and put a hand on my shoulder; it was friendly at first, but when I tried to pull away his fingers dug in. “He can leave,” the guy said more clearly, and I whirled towards him, wondering what the hell was going on. His fingers tightened, bruising the tissue beneath.

  “She stays with me. Where-ever-the-fuck I go,” Jake said softly, “she goes.” And then I saw Hunter behind them, leaning against the wall, waiting. Well, there goes the party, I thought, cringing inwardly.

  Hunter Black is six and a half feet tall, doesn’t speak, and is meaner than sin. He was watching the goings-on with a gleam in his eye, as if he couldn’t wait for one of them to give him a reason to introduce himself.

  Unfortunately, the guy gripping my shoulder like a manacle decided he was tired of talking and threw a punch at Jake.

  Three things happened at once: he swung, Jake ducked, Jake head-butted him. I crouched down and one of them slammed into me, forcing me to slide across the floor until I landed against the wall, knocking the wind out of me. And Hunter introduced himself.

  Hands grabbed me, lifting me—they weren’t nice, helping hands, I realized, trying to break free--they were paws, more manacles disguised as assistance, and I started scrabbling to get away, to leave—fuck—“Get off of me—"

  “What’s going on, guys?” Percy’s languid voice cut through the quiet thuds and startled silence like a whip. He approached the group of young men grappling with me and they fell away as if he could hurt them simply by smiling; Percy took my arm in the same gentlemanly hold he had earlier and turned towards the writhing mass of flesh by the front door. Hunter smashed his fist into one of the three gorillas that had tried to take me a minute ago and I watched, horrified, as his nose collapsed, blood gushing everywhere as the crack of his broken bone echoed through the air. Jake elbowed one of the other ones in the face and they staggered backward into the wall; the third guy was already down. “Mmm,” he said, walking slowly towards Jake and Hunter as they sucked in air, their backs up, fists up, ready to swing. “I’m going to guess you met security, Mr. Warfield—can’t blame them. Look at you. All puffed up.” He slipped his hand down my arm, his fingers tangling with mine as he spun me in an unexpected twirl, then lightly handed me off to Jake. “Have a good night,” Percy called, but he was only speaking to me. The room was now utterly silent, as if everyone there were afraid of him—afraid of us. Jake snarled in response, clutched my arm, and marched outside of the house.

  “Get off of me,” I snarled, but when I went to yank my arm back he tightened his grip and leaned down to look directly in my face.

  “No,” he said bluntly, and held me tightly as he marched me all the way across campus, practically dragging me across stairwells and down halls until we ended up back in front of the office. I dreaded him opening the door, expecting the smell of my humiliation to greet me, but when he yanked it open, letting it slam against the wall, there was nothing but the aroma of lemon-scented cleaner in the air. He made someone else steam-clean my urine out of the expensive rug. I didn’t know if that was worse than me having to do it myself or not.

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” Jake reared on me, his chest heaving. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?�
��

  “Going to a fucking frat party?” I rubbed my arm and glared at him. “Or hanging out with you?”

  “Raven, you are a member of the Society now, and somebody has it out for me,” he breathed, staring at me. “You’re a fucking target in this town anyway—”

  “Because of you!” I shoved his chest. “You did that shit—”

  “No,” he growled, lowering his face again so he could stare directly into my eyes. “I didn’t.” I backed off, my cheeks heating as his meaning sunk in, his expression vicious. “Besides your own fucking choices and the obvious fucking repercussions—” I started to interrupt him, even though my protest was pretty empty; I didn’t think anyone deserved to be bullied the way he had bullied me, but I also couldn’t help the swell of guilt that rose through me. He talked right over me. “You’re a goddamn Keller, Raven. Everybody knows who you are—and now you’re the fucking Sineater. Even if it wasn’t an easy means to fuck with me—and we know somebody’s looking for one—your name was on the goddamn Internet where any troll could see it. The Sineaters are tested immediately by the nomination process. How much punishment are you willing to take?” He abruptly stood up and raked his hands through his hair, his dark curls sweaty from the fight. “And then you… You fucking head off into the goddamn depths of Delta house with Percy fucking Hatchett? Are you fucking insane?”

  “You told me to act like a cock-hungry slut—”

  “And did you ever,” he snarled, his eyes darkening as he twisted again to stare at me. “That’s not what I meant, by the way. That wasn’t some casual chat by the fucking keg—”