I have no doubts, but I ask anyway, just to hear it in his cadence, a tone he reserves solely for me. “Do you swear you had no idea they were going to push me off the dock?”
“Jesus, Callie—no. I wrote that stupid note in my room, then dropped it off on your bed, thinking I’d embrace my fucking dork and you’d find it cute. Thought you might enjoy a handwritten ‘hit me up’ instead of a text. Then I was sidelined on my way back to the dorms. By James. He had some shit he needed to sort through at the academy and ...” Chase buries his fingers in his hair. “He played me. Kept me occupied.”
The urge to reach up and massage the back of his neck, bend his rigid body into mine, is so strong, but I curl my fingers on my lap instead. If Chase can’t even trust his friends, how could he ever think we could ask that of each other?
Maybe, because now is the time he needs you most.
I staunch the thought. Too much has been triggered. “I can’t swim.”
Chase freezes in scraping his hair back. He grimaces. “The fuck?”
“I can’t swim,” I repeat. “I don’t think being pushed into the lake was a coincidence.”
“You can’t swim?” Chase rears off the bed, then whirls to face me. “And you swished around under the docks trying to find a fucking key? It’s a vintage prop the Virtues don’t even use anymore! Why didn’t you refuse? And who the fuck did you tell your weakness to?”
I wince. “I could ask the same of you.”
Chase huffs out a breath.
“You could’ve refused your dad’s demands and ignored me. Maybe then, I would’ve stayed the harmless possum everybody liked to kick around. Instead, after meeting you, I risked everything to find Piper’s true killer. I sacrificed a future where I excel in all my classes in a top-tier high school because I couldn’t ignore that pained look on your face every time your ex-girlfriend was mentioned. And just when I think this whole thing is finished, that Addisyn is in custody, and you and I can finally get to know each other without Piper’s ghost behind us, I’ve been conned into a secret society by your sister and Eden through some twisted belief that my presence in this group can make up for Piper’s absence. I can’t do this, Chase. I’m not Piper.”
Chase presses his hands to my face, tipping it up. He asks harshly, “Is that what you think? That you’re some lame glimmer to Piper’s falling star?”
I try to nod, but he holds my head firm.
“Listen to me. I have never, nor will I ever, want you to take Piper’s place. What you and I have—it’s ours. Not theirs. Not hers. And I can’t speak for Emma, but when it comes to my sister and her plans to take down the Virtues, she’d only involve someone if she knew they wanted it, too.”
I choke on a sob, and my words are lost.
Chase murmurs my name. His thumbs stroke my cheeks, painting curved paths through my tears.
“You’re a girl who came into my life at the exact wrong time,” he says, bending closer. “And made me question everything I wanted. My future. My choices. I thought I had my tomorrows on lock, but the minute I had you, the second I sank into you, I had no fucking idea what the next day would bring.” His fingers knot in my hair. “And I ended up craving that uncertainty. And obsessing over my next fix of you.”
His gaze darts to my parted lips. Even doused in darkness, Chase’s handsomeness calls to the emptiness inside me, hooks it painfully, and draws it forward for him to satiate. His beauty is incomparable to anyone I’ve ever met—it makes me greedy and gluttonous. I want to stare at it, touch it, lick it until it’s mine.
Chase’s eyes lift. They sparkle like tiny stars.
My tongue hits my lip.
His lips break into a smile, and I forget to breathe, yet I don’t care. I’ve lost my breath so many times tonight, but this time, I’ll gladly give it away. Our chests rise and fall in tandem. He breathes for me.
Kiss me, he mouths.
My nipples zing as I read the silent words. He must sense it, because his grip tightens in my hair, tipping my head back and leaning forward until nothing but a sliver of air exists between us.
Chase tugs me closer, and I shiver as his hand slides from my hair down to the small of my back.
When he finds my bare ass, my body jerks with a small gasp, but I use that momentum to press my lips to his.
His silken tongue glides through my mouth, bringing with it his addictive taste—salted mint mixing with a tang uniquely his. I moan, going pliable in his grip, and he braces his arm at my back to lower us onto the bed, then settles between my legs as he devours me, owns me whole.
“Are you still cold?” he asks against my lips.
It’s an effort to open my eyes and come out of paradise. “Freezing.”
His pillowy mouth curves into mine, his hands start roaming, and my body curves into his every sway.
Chase traces my folds, slick and ready for him. I raise my hips, and on a groan, he sinks his fingers in.
“I want you to feel me inside you,” he says between kisses, “as much as I feel you in me.”
Whimpering, I clutch his shoulders, matching his pumps, circling my hips with his. When he pinches my clit between his fingers and twists, he catches my cry in his mouth.
Feeling outmatched, I let my hand wander between us, then under his jeans until I meet his dick, curling the pads of my fingers until I trace the thick vein on the underside of his incredibly long shaft. He groans when I squeeze, when I pace my hand pumps to his finger thrusts.
His knuckle brushes across my clit, once, twice, and I’m so swollen, even my throat can feel the pleasurable, aching pulse begging to release.
Chase’s smoky voice curls into my ear. “I’m going to make you come, and right when I have you, when you’re screaming my name, I’m going to fuck you.”
I tip my neck back, allowing him full access. “Yes.”
My legs tremble, but not from cold or fear. Pure ecstasy flits through my veins with the lightness of fairy dust, and as Chase brings me to my peak, when that enjoyable blackness coats my vision, I arch my back and give in.
I’m so lost in the ether I don’t notice Chase stand and strip off his pants. I barely register the crinkle of an opening condom. I can’t see the way his body covers mine, the sheer width of him blocking out the entirety of my room.
But I spectacularly feel when he thrusts into me mid-orgasm.
The sheer intensity of another building orgasm on the tail of my first one is almost too much, and I bite down on my lower lip to stop the scream.
Chase doesn’t let up. He pounds into me, his rhythmic thrusts ignorant to my pathetic attempts to be quiet.
“I’ve loved fucking you from the first second,” Chase rasps, nipping and licking my earlobe. “Love the tightness of your pussy, the feel of you clamping around me when you come. I want you to think about this whenever you’re questioning our validity. Remember what it’s like to have my cock inside you, to go to class still dripping with my cum and your juices, to have panties soaked with your want for me every time I can’t give it to you. Because I would. In public view, in the Wolf’s Den, on classroom desks, in Marron’s fucking office—I’d have you soaking wet in every damned room at Briarcliff Academy.”
My voice hitches. I can’t garble out syllables, words, meanings. I’m so close to tipping over another brink, I can’t even poise his name on my tongue.
“You like that? Me talking dirty? I fucking love it, too. Come on me, Callie. Come all over me and show me what I do to you.”
I can’t bear it. I cry out as my body dances under another spotlight of ecstasy.
My nails rake down his back as I instinctively bring him closer, absorbing his heartbeats into my own. Chase keeps drilling into me, cursing once before he thrusts as deep as he can and holds himself there. I wrap my legs around his lean hips to bring him as deep as possible, my body capturing his every orgasmic tremor and twitch.
We hold each other as we come down, Chase burying his face in my neck. Through my h
azy, sleepy fog, I hear, “I think I got paint all over your shirt.”
Laughing, I let my fingers delicately trace the deep route of his spine, the muscles on either side showcasing it like a ravine on his skin. “It’s worth the dry cleaning bill.”
Chase chuckles near my ear. “That ratty thing?”
“It was my mom’s shirt.”
Our movements still. Chase lifts his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, that’s not—I’m not mad.” I push pieces of loose hair from his flushed, angular face. “But I guess I just doused cold water on us, huh?”
The mention of my mom coupled with bringing up the topic of water, are two sore subjects I should’ve let lie. Instead, I’ve allowed them to flood their unresolved angst into this room. Into us.
Though it pains me to say it, I murmur, “I’d really like to get some sleep.”
“Yeah.” Chase’s hands come down on either side of me, and he swings himself up and out of bed. “Sure.”
He stands, the tendons of his arms and ridges of his biceps flexing. Even in this meager light, the full-frontal force of him is startling.
Chase glances down at me. “I gotta say one last thing.”
I nod while slipping under the covers, my body still twanging and vibrating from his sudden, addictive devotion. I don’t think it’ll ever fade. Chase gives me goosebumps just by looking at me, and hell, I’m in trouble now.
“You got their key, but it doesn’t get easier from here.” Chase leans forward, his pecs coming awfully close to my mouth, and his evergreen, freshwater scent all-consuming. He grabs the key from where it lays on the cold side of my bed and lifts it for inspection. “All this talk of trust between us … non-legacy members have to prove they’re trustworthy. That you’re committed to the society. And that whatever happens, you’ll keep the society’s agenda, their traditions, a secret you carry to your grave.”
“Yes,” I whisper into the enlarged space between us.
“They will test you the hardest of all, considering what happened today with Addisyn’s arrest. You’ll have to do things you will never be proud of. Are you ready for that?”
After a moment, I give another nod and sort through my thoughts enough to say, “I need to become one of them to take them down.”
Chase studies me in grim silence. When I don’t elaborate, he says, “I’ll do everything in my power to help you. So will Emma.”
He turns for the door, and I watch him leave under the heavy night shadows.
At the last minute, Chase turns. “Callie. I want to stop you from doing this, but I won’t force you to back off. Just know that whatever comes next, I warned you.”
Then, he leaves.
The white, predatory glitter in his eyes as he turns is the last image that resurfaces before I fall asleep.
5
Monday rolls in with an oceanic storm, and I scramble up the exposed pathway to the academy under my lopsided umbrella, balancing the overflow of textbooks in my arms, as well as my bag, straining at the seams as it bounces against my back.
When the corner of a textbook hits one of my kidneys, I curse, buckling under what both tickles and hurts at the same time.
Other students hurry up the same hill, but they have their shit together as they fly by with extra-large umbrellas and roller bags for backpacks.
And … is that a golf cart I see buzzing up ahead?
Why couldn’t I catch one of those?
Hunched over, huffing, and dripping, I make it to the school’s entrance in time to see said golf cart smooth to a stop under the covered section of the pavilion. Chase slides from the driver’s seat, brushing his hands down his impeccably dry Briarcliff blazer.
Even in a cold winter storm, his golden brilliance remains intact. His blond hair is sculpted away from his forehead with perfect, tousled texture. He fills out his uniform like a god, straining the fabric in all the right places, without a single raindrop marring his Midas aura.
Chase cuts his eyes to the right, catching me in plain sight as I inadvertently ogle him.
Can’t a life and death situation stifle, just a little bit, my foolish attraction toward him? Why does a stupid crush have to feel so unshakeable?
I pick up my pace, horrified to be caught in such a weakened position, especially after this weekend.
“Look, man, she’s wet for you,” I hear James, golf cart passenger, say. “How many times does it take for you to squeal, possum? Huh?”
I expect James’s remarks to be followed up by Chase’s fist hitting some part of his friend, but only silence follows.
Daring a peek over my shoulder, I notice that Chase merely sidles up to James with a smirk, Tempest coming up behind them. The fourth musketeer, Riordan, barks out with laughter as James says something else I don’t catch.
Chase’s attention flicks over to me once more, but then chooses to scan the rest of our surroundings in boredom rather than return to my face.
I whip back around, my cheeks hot with embarrassment and hurt, but I remind myself: Maybe this is how it should be, Chase going back to his rule-the-school roots and me returning to my rodent state. It’s safer this way. The Nobles and Virtues are less likely to mess with our heads if they think Chase has grown bored with me and stayed friends with James.
I tell myself that on the way to my locker. That Chase’s answering smile to James’s insult is an act, and not the real him.
This is what you wanted.
I kicked him out of my room for this very reason. Didn’t I?
My locker is—for once—a welcome sight when I come up to it, the dark wood varnish a much better image to focus on rather than Chase’s cool dismissal. I spin my combination code and swing the door open, dumping my textbooks with a breathy, happy sigh.
I peel off my blazer, too, considering it’s more of a damp overcoat than a fashion choice.
My phone dings in its pocket as I fold the collar over the hook, and I fish inside to pull it out before classes start.
When I see the preview on my lock screen, I frown. It’s a text with just a small image, too pixelated to get a good look.
Unlocking the screen, I pull up the message.
And cut off mid-gasp.
I glance around, hoping the nearby students who are also dropping off their things and having lingering morning chats before the first bell haven’t clued into my sudden freak-out mode.
But I have, and I glance at the picture one more time, to make sure it’s real.
It’s of Eden, changing in the co-ed bathrooms of Richardson House where she shares a dorm room with Ivy. She’s bending down, grabbing a towel off the hook, completely naked. The photo only shows her side, but a picture at any angle, while naked, is still meant to be humiliating if you haven’t consented to it.
And Eden is clearly unaware of a lens trained on her body as her damp hair trails down her back, and her tan lines on her shoulders and thighs from a bathing suit are on full display.
It took mere seconds to catalogue the terrible intent of this picture, and my brain screams delete delete delete well before my finger hovers over the screen.
But then another message pops up.
Private Number: Create a finsta and share this pic with the entire student body. Caption: FORMER SWIM CAPTAIN EATS PINOCCHIO AND THE WHALE.
My mouth falls open. My stomach sinks. I immediately type back: I’m not doing this.
It doesn’t take long for a response.
Private Number: to learn where our temple is, you’ll have this picture making the rounds by noon.
Fuck. Fuck.
While still holding my phone, I slam my palm into the side of my locker. Nearby students jolt at the noise, a few lifting their lips with snide disgust as they discover the source of the sound, then go about their day.
I’m not punching wood because I’m at a crossroads and can’t figure out the right move—I’m doing it because there is no other current recourse to expel the furious energy running through m
y veins.
“Callie?”
The tentative use of my name draws my head up. “Not now, Ivy.”
“I … you’re mad. That’s okay. But I was hoping we could maybe talk at lunch and—?”
New target.
I whirl, punching the air with my phone as I lurch it into Ivy’s view. “I am not doing this.”
Ivy pulls her books into her chest. “That’s—omigod.”
“You know who this came from.” It’s not a question.
She stutters out, “Yes.”
“This is how the big bad society wants to initiate me?” I point at my screen with my free hand. “By doing ninth grade, social media bullying bullshit? After having me swim for my life under a goddamned boat dock?”
“I…” Ivy shakes her head. “It all depends on who’s in charge of your initiation.”
“Falyn?” My question contains more spit than air. “Why her? Shouldn’t it be you? You excelled at duping me this entire semester. You’d think you’d be rewarded by being put in charge of my worthiness.”
Every syllable I utter is filled with vitriol—poison I couldn’t contain when I was freezing to death, and anger that was stifled by hurt when Chase visited me Saturday night. Now, though, oh, now, I am ready to unleash.
And Ivy, a person who I thought was my friend, will be my carnage.
Ivy flinches. “I don’t agree with any of this, and you may not believe me, but I was never fake with you. I’m your friend.”
“Are you?” I give Ivy the once-over, but all I can see is her swimming beside me, her hair rippling in the water as she allowed Falyn to take control. “What about Eden? Huh? What will this do to her? It rehashes the exact trauma she had to endure freshman year, and she barely made it out. She lost everything, Ivy. Her passion for swimming, her body, her mind, her friends. Everything was taken from her. And I’m expected to do that to her again?”
Fiend (Briarcliff Secret Society Series Book 3) Page 4