by Gemma Weir
The moment his door clicks shut, I clench my hands into fists, squeezing tight enough that my nails dig into my palms and all of the fear and anger and horror turns into pain.
Like every other day, the whole school seems to be loitering outside waiting for the bell to ring and I wonder if Valentine staged this so as many people as possible will see me humiliate myself by kissing him.
Closing my door behind me, I round the hood until I’m in front of him. He’s leaning nonchalantly against the side of my car, his eyes hooded and filled with cruel amusement. I step into his chest, swallowing thickly as I rise up onto my tiptoes and press a dry, closed mouthed kiss against his lips.
The kiss lasts a fraction of a second and I’m pulling away, eager to get away from him now that I’ve fulfilled my end of the deal. But before my heels even hit the ground, his hand is around my back and he’s holding me in a vice-like grip, my chest plastered against his.
“We both know that isn’t the type of kiss that will stop me from doing anything. Try again or the deal’s off,” he snarls, so quietly I’m sure only he and I can hear him.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I lean in and kiss him properly, molding my lips to his and kissing him like I’m drowning and he’s air. His fingers tangle in my hair and he tugs, tilting my head back so he can take control.
His hand at my waist drops lower until his fingers are sliding beneath the hem of my jean shorts and he forces his tongue into my mouth, controlling the kiss, my body, and me.
A loud cough beside us shatters the trance the kiss had pulled me into, and I quickly move my hands between us and push at his chest. He slowly pulls his face from mine, biting down on my bottom lip before finally releasing me. His hand in my hair lowers to the back of my neck and he grips me tightly preventing me from moving. His other hand lifts up further, exposing more of my leg and probably the bottom of my butt as he possessively manhandles me.
I’m shaking, literally trembling in his arms. It’s anger, or at least it’s mainly anger. But there’s something else. Heat, desire maybe. Who am I kidding? My body is shaking with pure unbridled lust. I’ve never been kissed like he kisses me. His touch isn’t faltering or unsure, it’s confident and sure, and as much as I hate him, I know that if I’m not careful I could become addicted.
It’s wrong. He’s manipulated me into this whole situation, yet my body is on fire and my mind is blissfully quiet. I should move away, but I don’t fight his hold on me, and I try to convince myself it’s to protect my friends and my family. But I’m not sure if that’s the only reason I’m allowing all of this to happen.
“Dude, that’s my sister,” Zeke says, his voice a mix of amusement and annoyance.
“I know,” Valentine replies, his grip on my neck tightening almost painfully as if he’s warning me not to try to move away.
“So you pair are a thing now?”
I open my mouth to deny it, despite how much the situation may point to that conclusion, when Valentine’s warm breath cascades over my ear. “Deny it and I’ll make your brother today’s target,” he whispers, then kisses the shell of my ear in what I’m sure looks like an affectionate gesture.
“Is that a problem?” he asks.
“Not to me; just a bit of a shock, that’s all,” Zeke says with a chuckle. “See you in class, Sis.”
Valentine holds me in place for a minute longer and then he slowly pulls his hand from my ass and releases his grip on my neck. “You asshole,” I hiss, all of my anger returning full force the moment his hands aren’t on me anymore.
“What’s the matter, Princess? You didn’t enjoy it?” He taunts.
“You just told my brother and whoever else was listening that we’re dating. Why the fuck would you do that?”
Sighing, like he’s indulging the questions of an annoying toddler, he steps away from my car, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I don’t like to share my toys, Princess. I already told you that.”
“I’m not yours and I’m not a toy, you jackass!” I seethe at his back as he walks ahead of me up the steps, toward the school’s entrance.
Quick as a flash, he turns, grabs me and slams me into the wall at the side of the door. “Don’t fucking push me. That kiss was a nice starter but don’t forget what I’m capable of. Perhaps you need another reminder?”
His lips smash against mine, delivering a hard, punishing kiss. Then he’s gone, his back to me as he walks away leaving me trembling again. My legs are weak and my mind more confused than ever.
His threat swims through my head for the rest of the morning as I wait for something awful to happen. By the time I enter the cafeteria, my stomach is in knots and I probably look like I’m on drugs, my paranoid eyes darting from face to face.
I don’t eat. My throat feels like it’s raw and I know I’ll probably throw up anything I try to swallow. Obsessively watching the door, I wait for him to arrive, but he doesn’t come. When the bell signaling the end of lunch chimes, I start to wonder if everything he said to me this morning was just bravado filled words that he was never capable of delivering on.
Hell, maybe everything that happened with Brit had nothing to do with him either. He’s only a teenage boy. Sure, he talks a big game, but am I being naïve in thinking he could deliver on any of his threats?
As I walk down the hall to my next class, the knots in my stomach start to unravel for the first time since he issued his threats. Valentine Miller is full of shit! He doesn’t like me and somehow he managed to twist a few coincidences into making me think he orchestrated things, when he really had nothing to do with it.
Turning the corner, I almost collide with a running, crying Emmy. Catching her by the shoulders I squeeze her lightly. “Em, what’s the matter? Are you okay?”
Her red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes lift to mine. She opens her mouth to speak, but the only noise that escapes is a strangled sob. Pulling her to me, I wrap her in my arms. Emmy never cries, not like this anyway, not at school where anyone could see her.
I wait for her sobs to subside then gently push her away, not releasing my hold on her until I can see her face. “What’s going on?”
“Principal Gerard,” she rushes, then covers her mouth to stifle another sob.
“Principal Gerard what?” I ask, looking behind Emmy to where the faculty offices are located.
“He,” she sucks in a ragged breath. “He said that they received an anonymous tip that I plagiarized some of my essay’s last year. He said that he’s looking into it and if they confirm the accusation I’ll be expelled.”
“What?” I cry, outraged. “That’s ridiculous. You’re the smartest person in this school, and that includes the teachers. Why would you need to cheat?”
“He doesn’t believe me, Nova. I saw the way he looked at me, he thinks I did it. But I didn’t; I swear I didn’t.”
Pulling her in for another hug, I can feel her tiny body shaking. “We’ll fix this. I know you didn’t do this and so will everyone else. Have you spoken to your mom and dad?”
I feel her nod against my shoulder. “Mom’s furious; she’s on her way over.”
“Do you want me to wait with you?”
Emmy opens her mouth just as the sound of her cell ringing bursts to life.
“Hi, Mom,” Emmy says as she answers her phone. “Yeah, okay, I’ll be there in a minute. Love you too.”
“She’s here?” I ask, as she ends the call and slides her cell back into her pocket.
“Yeah, she’s outside and she had Auntie Dove with her too.”
“Oh shit,” I say, barely stifling a giggle. Auntie Dove is a lawyer and despite how sweet and nice she is, she has a reputation for being a shark in the courtroom.
“I should go,” Emmy says, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Principal Gerard can’t punish you when you’re innocent. Your mom and Auntie Dove will get everything sorted out. Do you want me to come with you?”
Shaking her head, I watch as she pulls in a trembling breath. “No, I’ll be okay. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay, love you.”
“Love you too,” she says, as she walks toward the front entrance.
I watch her go, wondering why the hell Principal Gerard would ever think Emmy was a cheat. Glancing toward his office, I find Valentine leaning against the wall, his foot rested against the plaster, his body relaxed and at ease.
When our gazes meet, he tilts his head to the side and smiles callously at me. “She never struck me as the type,” he says, slowly pushing off the wall and taking a step toward me.
“Whatever,” I reply, rolling my eyes. My best friend is hurt and upset; I don’t have time for Valentine’s bullshit.
“It’s always the quiet ones. Maybe she snapped under the pressure of being so perfect.”
“I don’t have time for this; I’m going to be late,” I snap, taking a step away from him.
His fingers wrap around my upper arm and he unceremoniously yanks me back until his chest hits my spine and his arm clamps me in place, preventing me from moving.
“Cheat,” he hisses against my ear. “It’s such an ugly word, with such a stigma to it. No matter how much time passes, it just never really goes away. Don’t you agree?”
My body stiffens. He must have heard our conversation. “It’s a mistake.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, I have no idea how the Principal got a stupid idea like this is his head, but it’s ridiculous.”
“Poor, poor Emmy,” Valentine says in a mocking tone.
Something about the sound of his voice makes me freeze. “No,” I gasp, shaking my head as if the movement will make it true.
He laughs and the sound is cruel, hard, and mean. His lips land on my shoulder and I flinch, horrified.
“Did you do this?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
“I would never do anything to hurt poor, sweet little Emmy,” he says with mock sincerity.
“Oh my god.” Lifting my hand, I cover my mouth, horror filling me. He did this because of me. My best friend could get expelled because he was trying to show me how easily he could hurt me.
“Why?” I ask.
“Are you starting to understand exactly what I can do now, Princess?”
I nod, my mouth so dry from fear that I can’t form words.
“Excellent. Now turn around and kiss me.”
My legs feel like jelly, but I force them to move as soon as he loosens his hold on me. Turning around until my chest is pressed against his, I lift up and kiss him.
The moment our lips touch, he takes control of the kiss, hauling me even closer and dominating my mouth. I hate him. I hate him so much, and I try not to respond, but my body reacts without my consent. Sparks of something burst to life in my chest and expand outward until I can feel them all the way to my fingertips. I know I shouldn’t, I don’t want to, but I kiss him back, my tongue dueling with his, fighting him in the only way I can. Anger fuels our movements. His fingers are in my hair, pulling the strands. My nails sink into the fabric of his shirt, frantically trying to mark the skin below.
Then it’s over and his hands are pushing me away. My eyes snap open, only to find his wild gaze staring back at me, his chest rising up and down, his ragged breaths matched with mine. He hates me, I can see it clearly in his expression, but there’s something else there too, something that I’d guess is probably reflected back in my face. It could be simple animal lust, but at least for me it feels darker, more forbidden.
Wanting someone who seems to take pleasure in causing me pain is disgusting, but I can’t deny how alive I feel right now. It’s similar to the rush you get from a rollercoaster in the moment just before it drops you over the edge. That horrifying second when you have no idea if there’s even track on the other side or if your car will just drop though the air into nothingness.
“You’re mine, Princess. No more dates. Do you understand?”
I nod quickly. “If I do this, then you leave my friends and family out of it.”
He tilts his head to the side and blinks slowly at me, his gaze running up and down my body. “I think I can cope with that.”
“Is Emmy going to get expelled?” I ask, feeling sick at the thought of being the reason why Emmy lost her chance at an Ivy League school.
Laughing, he shakes his head. “Not unless she really has been cheating. School policy is that when an accusation of cheating is made, they have to investigate. Assuming she’s innocent then it will all go away; nothing will go on her permanent record.”
I sag with relief, tears filling my eyes.
“We should get to class. You don’t want to get a detention; after all, you’re still my ride.”
My lips part and I open my mouth to argue, but a single imperious lift of his eyebrow silences me. Can I cope with giving him a ride home if it means he stops targeting my friends? Firming up my mental resolve, I give myself a silent pep talk. I can cope with almost anything if it means they won’t be affected. I might not be an official member of the biker club my dad is the vice president of, but I might as well be. I’m a Sinner and so are my brothers, Emmy, and Griffin, and Sinners look after their own. I’ve heard my dad and uncles say those words a hundred times before, but I didn’t fully understand what they meant. Now more than ever it makes complete sense and I won’t let them down.
When we reach the art room, I’m tense and on edge. Thanks to Valentine’s manipulations we’re partnered up for the rest of the year while we complete our portrait projects. As we enter the room, his arm is around my shoulders and to the outside world I’m sure we look like a cute teenage couple.
“Ahh, Miss Stubbs, Mr. Miller, I’m pleased you could join us and that you sorted out your lovers tiff,” the teacher says sarcastically. “Perhaps you could tear yourselves away from each other and take your seats?”
“Sorry, Sir,” I mutter, trying to shuck Valentine’s arm off me as I rush to our desk. Unlike normal, the tables have been turned around, a stool placed on either side. I slide onto my stool and Valentine sits opposite.
“Okay, today we will be looking at the human form. Your task is to look into your partner’s eyes, study them: the shape, the color. Take note of the proportions, how open or how closed they are. Then I want you to draw your partner’s eyes, just the eyes. Get going, I want your finished image on my desk by the end of class.”
Closing my eyes, I curse the teacher, the class, and the universe, because right now with all of the confused emotions running through me, the absolute last thing I want to do is spend an entire class staring into Valentine’s eyes.
Somehow, I manage to survive art without saying more than ten words to Valentine and he doesn’t stop me when I jump from the desk and rush out of the classroom the moment the bell rings. The rest of the day passes in a haze and by the time the final bell rings I’m exhausted and ready to curl up in my bed and pretend this entire day didn’t happen. Like a prisoner being walked to the electric chair, I slowly pad from my classroom to my locker, avoiding eye contact with everyone I see.
Unlocking the lock, I grab the books I need for homework and leave the rest behind. A huge, black clad figure appears to my right and I feel my skin tingle with a mix of fear and awareness. I don’t have to look up to know who it is, but I don’t seem to be the one in control of my body whenever he’s near. Despite my attempts to resist, I lift my gaze until it’s locked on his chiseled jaw and those full lips that are turned down at the edges.
“Come here,” he demands, his voice so low it’s barely audible.
Sliding the last of my books into my purse, I close my locker door, then move until I’m at his side, our thighs pressed together. Instead of insisting I kiss him like I expect, he dips his head to mine and presses his lips against me in a featherlight soft embrace. This kiss is unlike any other that we’ve shared so far and the gentle, almost careful way he’s touching me only adds to my confusion.
How can he hate me and touch me like he cares? How can I hate him, when his kisses turn me to mush? I try to keep my body rigid, to remember that this is a game to him, but his soft, almost sweet kiss melts me, and my muscles relax into him.
The moment I give in to his touch he pulls back and smirks at me. “Let’s go.”
Bewildered, I don’t speak and just nod my agreement. A wicked gleam flashes in his eyes and he drops his arm across my shoulder, his fingers resting at the back of my neck. His grip is a little too tight to be comfortable as he leads me down the hallway. I can feel the eyes of every single person on us as we confirm the gossip that’s been swirling though the school since our kiss in the parking lot this morning.
I’ve never been more grateful for my ability to mask my emotions than I am right now. I keep my eyes up and affect a sneering expression, daring anyone to judge me for letting Valentine treat me like his. If only they knew that I wasn’t here by choice. If only they knew that I’m letting him touch me to protect my friends and my family from his wrath.
Is that the only reason you’re letting him do it? My subconscious taunts, but I ignore it along with all of the swirling thoughts about how many people are watching and how many whispered words are about us.
I don’t risk a look at the boy who is publicly claiming me. For some reason the idea of seeing his victory feels dangerous. I know who he is, or at least the person he’s showed me he is. But when we emerge from the school building and into the bright sunshine, I can’t help the surge of hope that bursts to life. Hope that maybe he isn’t the monster he seems to be; that maybe somewhere deep inside he’s just as damaged and broken as I am.
When we reach my car, all three of my brothers smirking faces greet me. Emmy isn’t here and guilt pushes away every last vestige of hope from me. He isn’t redeemable, there isn’t any hope. He’s exactly the monster that he seems to be.
“I’m gonna ride with Nova.” Valentine announces and somehow none of my brothers even bat an eye. Zeke just nods and signals for Dill and Leo to climb into his car.