The Siders Box Set

by Leah Clifford

  “That bad, huh?” She dropped the bloody cloth into the sink and cranked on the water, leaning against the porcelain basin.

  “How did you meet Vaughn?” Jarrod asked, suddenly.

  She stared at him for a second before she managed to recover. “I was out with my friends looking for Touch. He sold to us. I ended up hanging out with him a few times and we hit it off.” She squeezed the hot water out of the cloth and dabbed softly at his upper lip. “I thought I already told you that?”

  “You did,” he said, quietly, knowing his voice wasn’t as casual as he wanted it to be, plowing ahead anyway. “When?”

  “When did I meet him or when did I tell you?”

  “Meet him.” Jarrod swiped at the water dripping down his neck.

  Sullivan’s brow furrowed, her eyes on the ceiling as she thought. “Six months ago, I guess?”

  You knew she wouldn’t remember anyway, he thought. She’s not lying even if he was telling the truth. Jarrod leaned forward, head down, his elbows balanced on his knees. “Did he seem, like, familiar when you met him?”

  He felt the pressure of the cloth against the back of his neck as she cleaned the last of the blood.

  “Familiar how?”

  He rose up and caught the confusion in her look. “Forget it,” he said, glancing away as he got to his feet. “You know that I’m… I mean, about how I’m not…”

  Sullivan raised an eyebrow. “Alive?” she filled in.

  He tried to smile and felt the split in his lip separate again. She wiped at it with her thumb.

  “You have a thing for dead guys or what?”

  “Are you kidding me? Half the movies out there these days are about girls getting with vampire guys or werewolf guys or some other supernatural hotness. I’m living the dream.” She sighed, a fake dreamy sound. “Lucky me. The envy of thirteen-year-olds coast to coast.”

  His shoulders shook. He fought to keep the laugh from his broken lip.

  He meant to thank her for cleaning him up but when he opened his mouth what came out was different. “You’d tell me, right? If you were feeling like you did.” He paused. “On the roof.”

  He moved his hands to her shoulders, forced her to look at him. “How often do you get like that, Sullivan?”

  Her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

  “What did Vaughn say to you?” she whispered.

  He pulled her into a hug, sighed against her hair. Now that he was closer to her, he could feel the heat coming off her. “Jesus!” he said, holding her at arm’s length. “Did you take anything for that yet?”

  When she stepped back, he saw the glassy sheen to her eyes, not sure if it was the fever or tears, if he’d missed it before.

  “It’s nothing,” she said.

  He opened the medicine cabinet and handed her a bottle of pain relievers. “Take like, three of them. Your brain’s going to fry if you don’t get that down.”

  She turned the bottle in her hand, the pills rattling slowly. “Sure you can trust me after whatever Vaughn told you?”

  Jarrod grabbed the bottle of Tylenol, twisted off the cap and shook out enough for both of them. He handed a few to Sullivan, tossed back a trio himself and slugged them down with a palmful of water. It tasted like blood. He held his hand to his mouth, stifled a gag, sure he felt a thick slosh in his stomach.

  “What’s going on with Eden’s friend? She didn’t want you going with her.”

  “Eden didn’t want me there because of Luke,” he answered, his face still twisted with the taste of iron.

  “I take it he’s your big bad arch nemesis?” she said.

  Jarrod opened the medicine cabinet and put the bottle away, his face hidden from her behind the mirror. “Might say that.” He swung it closed. “Come with me,” he said, leading the way to the couch.

  Sullivan plopped down beside him. On the coffee table the laptop was still open to Aerie’s website and their schedule of bands playing over the next weeks. He clicked the link for Dawn’s Supernova, waited while it redirected him to a video.

  “This is Luke,” he said while it buffered, frozen on a shot of Luke mid-stage and glowering straight at the camera. Unease ripped through Jarrod, ached in his bones, his organs. Even the blood in his veins seemed to curdle.

  Sullivan’s voice was uncertain. “A singer?”

  The video kicked in and Luke’s snarl filled the room. Jarrod jumped, snapped the laptop closed, embarrassed.

  “I can’t...” He turned to Sullivan, not caring about his reaction, the shake in his hands, the crack in his voice. “You ever see him, you run. If I’m with you. If he has me. I don’t care. Sullivan, you leave me and you run.”

  “Jarrod, what—”

  “No. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” she said, her eyes wide. “What happened? I mean, you walked in here half an hour ago covered in blood and didn’t even seem fazed, but you’re, like—” she took his trembling hand at the wrist. “—you’re shaking after watching two seconds of video with the guy?”

  “He killed some…” How to explain what Adam had been to him? His friend? Even after what he’d done? “Some people who used to live here with us. He hurt Az really bad, Eden…me.” He tipped his chin toward the closed laptop. “That’s Hell. And the reason I don’t do roofs.”

  He didn’t elaborate, and much to his relief, she didn’t ask.

  “You see him,” Jarrod said again. “And you run.”

  Chapter 29

  Glass crunched under Luke’s boots as he paced, playing his guitar softly. He’d been practicing for an hour in the hidden room, backstage at Aerie, the notes falling from him as he walked.

  The couch Kristen stretched on was cigarette burned, springs digging into her back. She was grateful she’d decided to wear black slacks, even if the tight bustier paired with them pinched a bit. Against her chest lay a volume of poetry. The pages smelled of the bookstore Luke had taken her to that afternoon. He’d bought her every book she’d laid a finger on until she’d forgotten about the doomsayer, the Bound. Everything but him.

  She snuck glances at Luke, small sips. The light in the dank room was weak, meant for showing off the tattered posters decorating the walls. And still, it caught his body. The perfect curve of his shoulders as he adjusted the strap of his guitar. The swagger of his hips as he moved.

  Halfway through the song he sung, he shifted to practicing scales, his fingers slipping down the frets.

  “You’re watching me,” he said suddenly.

  She paused, her smile unsure. In truth, the book she held was a prop. She hadn’t been able to read a word with Luke’s lyrics rolling over her.

  “At the risk of feeding your ego, I rather like your singing. You’re putting Yeats to shame.” She closed the book. Luke chuckled as he lifted the guitar over his head. “Oh hush,” she said. “It was a tiny little thing of a compliment.”

  He propped the guitar against a broken speaker. “Better than Yeats? Coming from you, that’s almost an attempt at seduction.”

  With each stride toward her, the frenzy in his eyes intensified. Lust and need and danger. Her heart skipped quick beats in her chest. She flipped the book back open, trying to ignore him. “We both know my powers of seduction far outweigh yours. Only I don’t play them as fast and loose.”

  He crawled over the armrest and onto the couch. The smell of spices filled her head. “Prove it,” he challenged.

  He snatched the book from her and laid it on the floor beside them. When she moved to pick it up, his fingers ran the length of her arm. Kristen shivered.

  “See, I barely need to touch you. Where’s your control?” he chastised. “You used to be such a minx, Kristen.”

  “My control?” Kristen stared him down, knowing he only did it to bait her. But the chance to catch him off guard, put him in his place, was too tempting. She raised an eyebrow, giving his shoulder a gentle push. Luke followed the momentum, let himself fall back against the armrest.

&nb
sp; “You’d give in so easily?” he asked.

  She sat up and tipped forward, sliding a leg across his leather pants until she straddled him. He hadn’t expected her to respond. That much was clear. She added a twist to her hips as she settled.

  “I’m not giving.” She arched her back, one palm pressed against his abs, the other rising to catch the ribbon she’d used to tie up her hair. In one smooth movement she yanked it free and shook the strands loose. “I’m taking what I want.”

  She slipped the tips of her fingers under the waistband of his pants, teasing. “You did say that’s proper etiquette Downstairs?”

  She grazed his neck with her teeth, each tiny bite ending with the soft press of her mouth against his skin.

  “Holy Hell, Kristen.” His voice was breathless.

  She thought about ripping the shirt off him. How far could she go before stopping would become impossible? Already, she knew she treaded the line, the gasp that escaped him sending a tremble through her body. His hips rose, pressing against her. She clutched the back of his neck, kneading the tight muscles there as she drew herself closer. Her lips found his earlobe. Beneath her, his whole body lifted in anticipation, wanting her.

  Exactly where she wanted him.

  “I win,” she whispered. With a breathy laugh she pulled back.

  Luke caught her wrist.

  She looked down, surprised by the roughness of his grip, the intensity in his eyes burning through her. In a flash he’d sat up, his hands at her waist, rolling her until she was under him. Shock stole her air. Each breath darkened his eyes until they blazed black as pitch. His hands pushed down on her shoulders, his body atop hers.

  “Should I take what I want?” He slid his finger down to the button of her pants. It popped loose.

  “Stop.” She couldn’t break away from his eyes, the darkness eating her up. Part of her wanted to let it. “Luke, I said stop!” she yelled, yanking an arm free. Her palm cracked hard against his cheek. The force of the slap turned his face from her.

  He froze. And then his hands lifted away.

  “It’s dangerous to lure me into games, Kristen,” he said quietly.

  “No harm done.” She touched his reddened cheek.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. Luke untangled himself from her and sat up. The play was gone from his eyes.

  “I want you,” he said, “to choose me this time. I’ll give you happiness. Books. Pleasure. Anything you wish,” he promised. “Anything at all.”

  His mouth moved slowly toward hers and she thought for a moment that he'd forgotten the danger of her lips, but he moved down her jaw, and the side of her neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps that did nothing to slow her speeding pulse.

  “Why? Why me?”

  He trailed his fingers down her face and then further. They lingered against the swell of her breast, the lace of her bustier. “Because you tempt me. You demand I fight for your affections instead of taking what I please.” He dropped his hand. “You tell me no. You say stop. And I listen.” He said the last words like a curse, anger bleeding through, each word rougher than the last.

  Luke tilted his head, his neck tense, cracking with a snap. He rolled his shoulders.

  “You’re a silly little dead girl.” He glared at her, his tone harsh. “You should mean exactly nothing to me.” He grabbed her chin, forced her to meet his eyes. “And yet I covet you more than anything else on this Earth.”

  He was off the couch and across the room before Kristen could react. She rose to her knees in time to catch the opening of the door.

  It closed and cut off the sound of even his receding footsteps. Left her somehow hating the silence she’d always welcomed.

  Chapter 30

  Eden grabbed her gloves, reached for a scarf and decided against it. It didn’t seem very bright to put something around her neck that she could be choked with.

  “Are you ready?” she asked Sebastian, coming out of her room. They’d agreed to head to Aerie early. If they could catch Luke off his game, maybe he’d slip up a bit. Not that it was likely.

  “Yes,” Sebastian said instantly. Eden nodded. From the corner of her eye she saw Az stand.

  She turned to him. “You're not coming.”

  He froze with his hand in mid-reach for his coat, a perfect statue of confusion before his expression turned to disbelief. “You can't be serious.”

  She kept her eyes on him. “I'm dead serious. You're staying here, Az.”

  “Not a fucking chance.” He yanked his coat down.

  “Az.” She moved closer, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Listen to me, alright? Listen.” He shook his head, but she went on anyway. “Luke will do whatever it takes to get to you.” She searched his eyes, letting him see the fear in hers, not hiding it. “If you're there, I'll be concentrating on you. I need to be able to watch my back, right?”

  His jaw tightened, the muscles working. She met his gaze, the hurt in it torturous.

  “I need you here. I need someone to play the hero if this goes bad,” she said. “And I know you’ll come for me.”

  A long moment passed between them before he winced, then nodded. She forced herself to turn away, leave while she could.

  “Let’s go,” she said to Sebastian as she pulled the door open and pounded down the stairs.

  “Eden! Wait!”

  She wanted to keep going but found herself turning around. Az rushed down the stairs, slowing as he got closer.

  “Be careful,” he whispered. He pulled her into a tight hug, his lips on her ear. “I love you and please don’t… please be careful.”

  Suddenly, he lifted his head, his eyes on Sebastian. “Anything happens, first thing you do is call me.”

  Sebastian nodded.

  “Give him my number,” Az added to Eden. She lifted her arms and wrapped them around Az. “Be fast,” he said.

  A few early fangirls wandered aimlessly in front of the club, chain-smoking, but at an hour and a half before the opening band would take the stage, the place was fairly deserted. Sebastian grabbed Eden’s arm as they approached, but his eyes stayed on the door, eager and angry, ready to fight for Kristen. “Anything in particular I should know?”

  “Yeah,” Eden said. “He hates me.”

  Sebastian’s brow wrinkled.

  “Jarrod threw Luke off a roof. After I killed his girlfriend,” she finished, striding up to the door.

  She tried the handle first, found it locked, and slammed her hand against the wood. Her palm was almost bleeding by the time someone finally opened it. Smears of gray ash graffitied the door. She ignored them. As long as the pain held off, she’d be fine.

  “Is there a fucking problem?” the guy barked. “Doors open an hour before the show!”

  “No.” The word crackled with enough quiet authority that the bouncer didn’t interrupt her. “We’re here to see Luke. Now.”

  He checked her out, one eyebrow raised, assessing. Apparently, she failed the test. “That only works in the movies, honey. Nice try though,” he said, the door started to fall shut.

  “You want to tell him Eden’s here. Trust me,” she called through the crack. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the wall, waiting. On the sidewalk, a pair of girls giggled, whispering about her behind their hands. She gave them a satisfied grin when the door opened again several minutes later.

  “He’s finished sound check,” the guy said sheepishly, leading them across the empty dance floor, headed to the backstage door. Eden stopped halfway there.

  She’d be damned if she was going to be locked in the tiny room with Luke again. She remembered it well, where she’d first met him. The stench of cigarette butts and spilled beer. The only door led to a back lot that offered no escape. “No. Tell him to come meet us out here.”

  “Jesus Christ, you’re a pain in my ass,” she heard him mutter as he went on to deliver her message.

  “He can die, correct?” Sebastian said, suddenly. “Because I will kill him if he’s harme
d her.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, flashing back to the nights she’d seen him on stage. His mere presence stoked crowds to a feverpitch. He fed off it, reveled. She wondered if he took his strength from those screams. “He might be weaker before a show.”

  “Eden?”

  Sebastian startled at the voice, staring over Eden’s shoulder. Eden heard the backstage door slam. She spun around in time to see Kristen's eyes go wide. “Sebastian, what are you doing here?” She balled her hands into fists. “Leave,” she commanded. “Leave me alone. Now.”

  “Kristen what on Earth are you doing? Come with us. No one has to know about any of this.” Luke was nowhere in sight. Moments and they'd be out the door. It was almost too easy. “We can set you up at my place. Obviously not your whole crew, but you and Sebastian.” Her eyes flicked back to Kristen. “I’ll do what I can to help you.”

  Kristen's face steeled. “Help? The way you helped Gabe?”’

  Eden opened her mouth. No words came. Kristen knew about Gabe, and from the blaze of her eyes, she knew it was Eden’s fault.

  Sebastian stepped forward. “Kristen, come with us.”

  “Oh? You're giving orders now?”

  His bravado seemed to break for a second before he recovered.

  “Thank you,” Kristen said, “for your offer. I won’t be taking you up on it. You can leave now.”

  Eden snapped. “He's the fucking devil, Kristen. Gabe’s Fallen and you're shacking up Lucifer when we should be working together. Like we did before. Your Touch helped me stop Luke from taking us all on the roof. Don’t let him take you now.”

  “Hello, Eden.”

  A gasp slipped out of Eden before she could stop it, stole away whatever edge she’d managed to carve out. The soft baritone shredded her anger, left her unraveling. He was directly behind her, so close that she trembled. Still, she turned. Faced him. “We've come for Kristen,” she said.

  Luke had healed since the last time she’d seen him, bloody and broken from his fall off the roof. If anything, he looked stronger, more confident. “I figured. You were a little early for the show.” He moved and Eden staggered back, realizing too late that he only stepped past her to stand beside Kristen. “I don't believe she wants that.”