by S. J. Black
“I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you. No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed.”
― A.S. Byatt, Possession
Contents
Epigraph
The Baron Kings Saga
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Copyright © 2020 by S.J. Black
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Please note all characters are above 18 and fictional works of the author.
The Baron Kings Saga
JASPER
BOOK TWO
Chapter One
“Can you fucking move from my locker?”
“Excuse you?” A group of girls baulked in shock.
“Pretty please,” Zara smiled emptily.
The chattering girls looked at Zara with a derisive stare while she merely lifted her thick eyebrow, tilting her head.
The three senior students begrudgingly shifted away from Zara’s locker, giving her plenty of space to move in and dump the contents of her bag inside. She could feel the weight of the girls’ burn into her skin.
Not that she minded.
“Would you girls like a picture?” Zara muttered without turning.
“You didn’t have to be so rude,” a girl with a pointy nose proclaimed. Her face morphed into a flustered shade of crimson.
“You were in my way, Heidi,” Zara said in a deadpan tone.
“And there’s a word in the dictionary you could use; it’s called ‘please’,” Heidi said haughtily.
Zara turned from her locker, curling her lip in a barely concealed laugh. “And would you have moved if I said that?”
“Yes,” Heidi said pointedly.
“Good to know.”
Zara slammed her locker shut with a vocal bang. Moving past the group of girls, Zara walked ahead, moving straight to her Music class. Her first three months at Barcourt were difficult; no matter how hard she tried to fit in, she couldn’t. She didn’t belong. Every side stare, every curl of a stiff upper lip told Zara Haife that she was an outsider.
She wasn’t the only one who had felt that way; Annie Howell was one of the few friends she had in a frosty place like Barcourt.
Annie was dating a Baron. One of four elite boys who ran the school with a group of bullies, Zara thought. That was all that they were.
Wolves in disguise.
But Annie was one of the few friends she had in a place like this. Detailing her disgust about the Barons was something she wasn’t sure she could do to her friend. Not if she risked complete social isolation.
There were some things that she couldn’t bear. Being alone, unwanted and unliked; an experience she was all too familiar with, something she had no desire to feel again.
As she moved into the west wing of the main tower, she headed over to the music conservatory. Her music teacher, Ms Femi, stood by the front, waiting quietly for the students to assemble inside. She glanced at Zara, smiling widely, the wrinkle of her eyes creased in joy.
“Zara,” she greeted warmly. Ms Femi moved closer, resting her hand on Zara’s arm. “Welcome back. How were your Christmas holidays?”
“Great,’ Zara grinned. “I indulged in endless mince pies and chocolate cakes, and now I think I’m paying for every pound.”
“Sounds like a good time,” Ms Femi chuckled. “I was stuck with a handful of children that have never heard the word ‘no’.”
“The Barcourt students were there?” Zara quipped.
Ms Femi lightly patted Zara’s arm. “Behave, miss.”
Zara smirked lightly, moving to take her seat in the room. Most of the students hadn’t arrived yet. It was just Zara and a quiet student called Thomas. Thomas hardly said a word to anyone, choosing to communicate through his music. Not that Zara minded; if she could stop speaking to Barcourt students, she would have mistaken the place for heaven.
Taking out her song sheets from her folder, she placed them neatly on the table, deliberating over her next song choice. Today, she was going to come up with something original for her assessed project. Stellar grades and a glowing recommendation was exactly what she needed to get into Oxford.
Everything was resting on a smooth ride this year.
“Hello, hello, hello,” a confident voice drawled from the door.
Jesus Christ.
“Morning Mr Hamlish,” Ms Femi greeted with a smirk. “We are in a good mood today.”
“Of course, Ms Femi. It’s the start of the new year and my favourite people are all in this room,” Theo proclaimed. His golden gaze brushed over Zara’s blushing face before turning to Thomas’ bewildered face. “Not to worry, Thomas - that also includes you too,” he winked.
Theo strode to his table, only a few centimetres away from Zara’s. She pointedly ignored his presence, her eyes pressed intently to her song sheets.
“Careful love, you might burn a hole in your chorus,” he said smoothly.
Zara flipped her page, not addressing him.
“Ah, we’re playing silent today,” Theo mused, sitting down. He rested his head on his left hand, staring softly at Zara. At this angle, right before class started, he got the perfect view of her warm, angular face. The black, dark mane was her defining feature, as it framed her strong brown eyes, the outline of her nose, the cupid’s bow design of her pink lips, the way her cheeks sat high on her face, juxtaposing against the softness of her eyes.
This was becoming his insatiable habit.
Not quite a guilty obsession as he felt no remorse for admiring her beauty.
Zara ground her teeth together.
He was doing it again. Staring at her like she was his to look at; like a piece of furniture in his house, there for his perusal.
“Will you stop doing that?” She bit out. “For the hundredth time.”
“Doing what?” Theo whispered.
“Looking at me.”
“Is that a crime?”
“I wish it was.”
“I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?”
“You know you are.”
“Hm,” he said simply.
He didn’t stop. She released a frustrated exhale, slamming her song sheet book closed. Zara raised her hand, prompting Ms Femi to look up from her laptop.
“Yes, Zara?”
“Ms Femi, can I please move to another seat?”
Theo simply laughed under his breath, muffling his chuckle. He didn’t look at Zara, merely giving a handsome grin.
“Is there a problem?” Ms Femi furrowed her brows.
“Yes, there is. I can’t concentrate with him sitting next to me,” Zara said.
“It’s alright love, my handsome looks have that effect on women.”
“Shut up.”
“Oh, darling,” h
e said. “Let’s not fight.”
“Theo, stop that please,” Ms Femi rolled her eyes. Nodding to Zara, she motioned to an empty seat near the windowsill. “There’s a space near the window, take that one.”
“Thank you,” Zara said gratefully. She was tempted to stick her tongue out childishly at Theo. He infuriated her during these lessons; he took too much pleasure in seeing her riled up.
∞∞∞
Zara had exactly thirteen minutes until her Economics class. Standing outside her locker, she browsed through her daily planner, checking to see if she had completed her assignments.
Pedantic. That was the common word people used to describe her signature traits.
Laidback was a trait that did not come naturally to Zara. She had tried, but the nature of her upbringing meant that she couldn’t afford not to have a plan. Not when her family counted on her to be the obedient child. The normal one.
Inhaling heavily, she glanced up. Barcourt was a lion’s jungle that she would never fit into. She wasn’t branded an outcast like the scholarship kids, but she wasn’t part of the old money circle.
Heidi - the stoic redhead from earlier - walked past Zara, moving to stand beside her against the lockers. Zara bristled at the proximity.
“Is there something you needed?” Zara said firmly, without looking at her.
“Not from you,” Heidi shrugged, leaning her head against the locker. A line of tension etched into the expanse of her forehead, her body taut with a tightness that seemed unfamiliar.
Zara shifted awkwardly. They were used to exchanging spitfires. Soft moments of truce and vulnerability were things that did not happen.
Not in this place.
“My parents are divorcing,” Heidi blurted out.
Zara’s face flashed to Heidi’s stoic mask. Her mouth opened in soundless sympathy, but the words failed to flow.
“I’m sorry,” Zara said dumbly. The words felt foreign as they wrestled out of her tongue.
Heidi laughed mirthlessly. “I didn’t come for pity.”
“Then what did you come here for?”
“Self-destruction,” she said simply.
Zara frowned, confusion etching her features. She stretched out her fingers, easing out the invisible tension.
“That’s pretty ominous.”
“I just had an entire hour of English Lit. Excuse the hyperbole,” Heidi muttered.
Zara nodded quietly. Maybe silence was better in situations like these. Weirdly odd. Uncomfortable. Completely and utterly unthinkable. Heidi displaying an emotional spectrum beyond pissed and derisive? Maybe Zara was hallucinating.
“I’m uncomfortable,” Zara admitted.
“Good,” Heidi said.
“Rude. Do you want me to leave you alone or something?”
“Nah, you’re okay,” Heidi sighed. She moved up from the locker, tucking her hair behind her ear. She turned to Zara’s tight features. “We’re gonna forget about this in about thirty minutes. Back to the old routine of hating each other’s guts.”
“You don’t need to ask me twice,” Zara narrowed her eyes with a hidden smirk.
Heidi returned the smirk, looking away.
Zara checked her watch, noting the impatient click of her wristwatch. She had seven minutes left. Maybe she needed to make a move.
“I gotta -” Zara started.
BANG!
A loud thud echoed from the start of the corridor. Both girls jumped, their gazes snapping to the location of the sound.
The familiar weight of dread lodged in her throat. Sharp, grey eyes angrily scanned the room as he sauntered down the hallway, his usual lackeys by his side. Something had pissed this Baron off.
Jasper.
Jasper Rashford.
Her fists clenched instinctively. Zara felt her body close, itching to get the fuck out of there. She hated to run away like a coward. Wiping the arrogance off a prick like Jasper Rashford was something she relished.
But a part of him frightened her.
She didn’t know what part that was, but a look in those devilish eyes sent her backwards, her body propelled into the distance.
What the fuck was lurking behind those dark, haunted eyes?
She didn’t want to find out.
“Here we go,” Heidi sighed tiredly. Her gaze never departed from Jasper’s moving form as he strode down the corridor. James and Theo walked behind, barely concealing their frustration. They looked like they wanted to hold back Jasper but to no avail; that man was a loose cannon.
Jasper stopped, talking with a vicious animosity to a frightened younger student. Zara couldn’t gather much from the conversation, but she imagined it wasn’t a pleasant one.
“The day those boys graduate will be a joyous day for everyone,” Heidi muttered under her breath.
“What is Lucifer’s problem this time?” Zara murmured.
“Lucifer?”
“He’s the devil incarnate, Heidi. Don’t deny it,” Zara noted.
Heidi smiled quietly before her expression simmered down. Jasper had scanned the room, his fury and barely concealed temper breathed over everyone. His eyes caught Zara’s focused stare. Zara felt herself still. Frozen. Deadlocked. Had he heard what she said?
There was no way. She was just being paranoid.
She waited in anticipation for him to move his gaze away from her, to cast his unpleasant, dark aura on another unsuspecting Barcourt student. Gazing down to her watch, she checked the time.
Three minutes.
She was going to be late.
“Gotta go,” Zara mumbled quickly, smoothing out her hair. She gave Heidi a firm nod. “It’s been real.”
“Uh, Zara -” Heidi muttered, glancing between Zara and the space behind her.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” A thunderous voice boomed.
She knew who that haughty voice belonged to. Turning slightly, Zara faced Jasper Rashford and his crew. His dark, ominous stare was framed by a thick set of shapely eyebrows, outlining his deep, penetrating grey eyes. That signature jawline was taut with barely concealed anger. His unforgiving stare flittered over Zara’s features unabashedly. Almost as though he was looking for something beneath her skin.
She inhaled deeply, willing herself not to bow down to this man’s intimidation.
That was his currency for power - fear.
“Excuse me?” Zara lifted an eyebrow.
Two minutes.
The clock was ticking.
Grinding her teeth together, she met Jasper’s stare head-on. Unbending. Unrelenting.
He crowded her space, his presence overwhelmed her senses. “You’re playing dumb, I see.”
“Something that comes naturally to you,” Zara bit back.
A flash of white hot surprise burst in his eyes. Jasper grabbed her by the lapels of her blazer, clutching her close to him. Zara froze. His brazen behaviour was something that couldn’t be controlled.
“Listen bitch, do you think I’m in the mood for playing games?” He uttered quietly. He searched her gaze with a hunger that unsettled Zara’s resolve.
Bitch?
He called her a bitch.
She wanted to hit him.
Yep, she definitely wanted to punch that pig.
“Bitch?” She repeated. “Who are you calling a bitch? Dickhead.”
“Mate, not now,” James whispered. James Knightley stared intently at Jasper, not paying Zara any mind. Did it escape his attention that his best friend was attacking a student?
Jasper stood in his spot. She didn’t think that he would move. Not one inch. This man was a maniac. He heeded to nobody’s demands and Zara was under no illusions she was anything special. She wouldn’t be so lucky to escape from a bratty, arrogant snob like Rashford.
But to both James’ and Zara’s surprise, he released his grip. He took a firm step back, his gaze still resting on the girl in front of him.
“You better watch your fucking mouth if you want to survive a place like this,�
� Jasper arched his brow. The menace in his dark eyes still lingered.
“Or what?” Zara baulked. “You going to shut it for me? I’d work on the temper first, old chap.”
Two minutes.
She was late.
Why was she entertaining this ridiculous conversation?
This was a death wish.
A simple death wish.
Abort, Zara.
ABORT.
His dark brows furrowed, his angular, chiseled face tightening in confusion. Jasper took a step closer.
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me,” Zara lifted her eyebrow.
“I’ll close that mouth of yours and I’m sure you won’t mind how I do it,” he sneered suggestively.
Zara didn’t think. Her reaction was instantaneous. A reaction she would probably regret.
He had no right to talk to her like that. Like she was a piece of meat.
Her hand slapped his face sharply. The smack caught him off guard, sending his face to the side, a red angry mark threatening to build up.
Time seemed to stop. Zara felt the weight of confused stares press into her skin. But she didn’t care. She didn’t have time to. Not when there was a Baron ready to unleash his wrath.
“I-I…” Zara stumbled over her words. Her gaze morphed into an expression of concern.
Four minutes.
Late.
“Mate, don’t,” James said firmly. He grabbed Jasper by the arm, pulling him back as they walked down the corridor. Jasper followed reluctantly, but not without his dark gaze remaining on Zara’s bewildered form.
He said nothing.
The threat was there.
She had to watch her back.
“What was that?” Heidi let out an incredulous breath. Her blue eyes pierced into Zara.
“What was what?” Zara breathed. Maybe she wanted to exude an air of confidence, but her whole body was swimming in sickening tension. She strode past Heidi, moving down the corridor. Heidi followed suit.
“Don’t play dumb -”
The familiar words. His words.
She bristled.
“What is with everyone and thinking I’m playing dumb?” Zara huffed. She tugged her backpack strap closer.