Vicious Lies

by Ella Miles

  “What now?” I ask. Please tell me this was all a joke. That we are in Santorini and he dragged me here to meet Kai and Siren.

  “Breakfast.”

  He snuffs out the fire and then stretches.

  “You have more bars?”

  “Nope, you are going hunting for our breakfast.”

  I laugh. “When you call me huntress, you know it’s a nickname, right? I don’t actually hunt animals.” I hunt men. I hunt secrets. I hunt truths. Not poor, furry animals.

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  My stomach growls right on cue, but I refuse.

  “I’m not going to hunt and kill an animal. I’d rather starve. I—”

  Langston starts walking away even though I haven’t finished my sentence.

  “Really?” I huff after him, annoyed that he won’t even listen to me.

  I stop dead in my tracks as Langston pulls something out from behind a tree and holds it out to me.

  I blink several times—Langston holds out a bow and arrow.

  I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip to hold back my excitement. I haven’t held a bow and arrow in my hands since I was ten, when Langston took me “hunting.” All we did was target practice since I couldn’t kill anything.

  I was a perfect shot.

  I cautiously reach out for the weapon.

  My fingers brush his as I take the bow and arrows in my hands.

  I have a weapon.

  Something I can use against Langston.

  He looks at me wearily. “Don’t even think about it.”

  My eyes light up. “What? I’m not thinking about shooting this arrow into your heart.”

  He grins. “I’ll give you one shot.”

  “What?”

  “One shot to shoot me.”

  “And what happens when I hit you in the heart and you drop dead? How do I survive?”

  He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone. “I unlocked it. When I drop dead, you can call for help.”

  I lean forward. He unlocked the phone, and it has service.

  Langston takes his time walking ten strides away from me. Then he turns and looks me in the eyes.

  “I’m waiting.”

  I hold his gaze as I reach into the bag and pull out a single arrow. It feels familiar in my hand.

  I could do this.

  I could kill him.

  I could…

  I take a deep breath as I position the arrow against the bow and pull back on the string, aiming at the ground as I get used to the feel of the bow in my hands again.

  And then I look up at Langston—his light blonde hair, his gleaming blue eyes, his tense smirk. He knows that I might shoot him, kill him, but it doesn’t matter. Death has never scared him, just like it doesn’t scare me. We’ve seen too much, he and I.

  Can I really kill him?

  I aim the arrow at his heart.

  He doesn’t flinch—I doubt even a hurricane sized wind would move him. Langston is testing me, seeing how badly I want to kill him.

  I do—I want to be free.

  But can Langston really be the first man I kill?

  Without another moment to think about it, I let the arrow fly.

  The moment the arrow leaves my grasp, I know I’ve made a mistake.

  Was the mistake aiming too high?

  Or letting the arrow go in the first place?

  My eyes have squeezed shut out of instinct. My heart rattles quickly in my chest as my breath whooshes out of my body at the release of the arrow.

  The jungle is still and quiet.

  I force my eyes open, terrified to see Langston standing but equally afraid to see him lying on the ground.

  Langston.

  He’s still standing.

  The arrow didn’t hit him.

  I sigh.

  “Is that a sigh of relief or a sigh of anguish?” Langston says with a wide grin like we were just playing a game he won—not one that could end in death.

  I ignore his snark.

  He pulls the arrow from the tree I hit, just over his left shoulder.

  “You’re rusty,” he says as he begins to stride back to me.

  I pull another arrow out and aim it at his heart. He’s much closer this time. I wouldn’t miss a second time.

  “Or maybe I missed on purpose, realizing that you were lying, and cell service doesn’t work on this barren island.”

  He takes another step closer until the arrow is touching his chest. Then he grabs it slowly, his eyes begging to be let into a window of my soul.

  “Liar.”

  “Scoundrel.”

  He grins at that.

  “Are you ready to hunt for breakfast now?”

  “No.” My hands shake at the thought of killing something on this island with my own hands.

  He takes the bow from me. “But so sure you would be able to live with killing me.”

  “You deserve death,” I snap back.

  He puts the bow and bag of arrows over his shoulder. He looks rugged and woodsman-like, like he could kill any animal that crosses our path. Any human too.

  That’s Langston—he fits into any situation. The city, countryside, woods, castles. He can belong anywhere.

  “Maybe I would have,” Langston answers. “But I won’t be dying today.”

  He turns, leaving me no choice but to follow.

  I yank my sweatshirt back off and tie it around my waist as I follow Langston pushing through the brush.

  “You aren’t really going to kill something for our breakfast, are you?”

  He looks back at me with an amused expression. “You eat meat, don’t you?”

  “Actually, I don’t,” I lie.

  “Liar.”

  I shake my head. “Well, I would be a vegetarian if I had to actually kill the animal before I ate it.”

  “That I believe.” Langston stops, putting his backpack, bow, and arrows down.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting you breakfast without killing anything.”

  Langston grabs the base of a palm tree and begins to scale it. It takes him five seconds to reach the top. He slices off two coconuts before sliding back down. He cracks them both open and hands me one.

  “You’re welcome,” he says before sucking the juices out.

  “Thanks for providing me with food, oh great one. You forget you wouldn’t have to feed me if you’d just set me free.”

  “I could stop providing you with food, then, if you don’t appreciate it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Then I would die from starvation instead of at your hand, before you’ve had your way with me. Now, who’s a liar?”

  After that, we finish eating our coconuts without any more smart remarks.

  “Let’s go,” Langston says soon after I’ve finished my last bite.

  “Where? Back to camp?”

  He raises a brow with a large smirk as he holds his hand out to me. I reluctantly let him help me off the ground. “No, to my house.”

  I gasp.

  “You’re lying.”

  “Follow me, and you’ll find out.” He takes off at a quick speed, almost like he’s running as he carries his backpack, bow, and arrows.

  I run after, still not sure if I believe him or not.

  Suddenly, Langston stops at a clearing.

  I follow his gaze out to see a large house—the kind you see celebrities renting when they take vacations to private islands. I would guess the house has at least ten bedrooms and as many bathrooms. I can see a large infinity pool, and the landscaping is immaculate. There are people living on this island.

  “You son of a bitch! You had us sleep on the ground last night. You made me think that we were on a deserted island, just the two of us. You bastard!”

  I hit him squarely in the shoulder. More pissed that he lied to me, tricked me, and I fell for it than I am that he made me sleep on the dirt when there was a mansion with big fluffy beds not ten minutes from where we
slept.

  He catches my fist before I hit him again.

  “We lie to each other, Liesel. Don’t expect anything less from me. I will lie, cheat, trick you, hurt you, go as far as it takes. You think what I did last night was cruel? You have no idea what I have planned for you. End this now and tell me the truth.”

  “I’ll decide if I tell a truth or a lie. I’ll decide what happens to me.”

  He stands tall, looking down at me, making hot desire shoot through my body.

  Damn him and his commanding expression turning me on.

  “You’ll tell me every truth you have. You won’t be able to survive without spilling your secrets.”

  I’ll survive, alright. He won’t get the truth, only lies. I just hope I can keep to my own words. I hope I’m not lying to myself.

  18

  Langston

  I let Liesel aim an arrow at me, knowing how good of a shot she is. She could have killed me if, deep down, she truly wanted to.

  But she didn’t. She’s not a killer like I am.

  She’s done some horrible things in her life, but she doesn’t kill. Even her worst enemies. Even me.

  It was a gamble.

  I didn’t know how Liesel truly felt—now I do. She hasn’t changed. She’s a monster, done some horrible things. Things she deserves to pay for, die for, but I don’t have to worry about her slitting my throat in the middle of the night.

  That’s where she draws the line—murder.

  There are two types of people in this world: the kind who kill and those who can’t, no matter the circumstances. You could say there is a third group of people: ones who kill in self-defense, only when their own life is threatened. But those types of people don’t exist. It’s a lie.

  You can either kill or you can’t.

  It makes no difference the reason why. And once you cross that line, you can never go back.

  Liesel hasn’t crossed that line. If she can’t cross that line to save her own neck now, then she never will.

  Still, letting her shoot at me was incredibly reckless.

  I shouldn’t have been so careless. There was a time when it wouldn’t have mattered if I died. Now, it’s important to stay alive.

  Liesel may not have meant to offer a truth, but she did. It may be the only truth I get from her for a while, but it’s a start.

  “Stay close,” I say to Liesel as we start walking down the hillside toward my home.

  She laughs. “I’m not following any of your orders.”

  She takes off at a full sprint toward the house.

  She’s not running away. I should just let her throw her tantrum, let her think she’s won and punish her for her mistakes later.

  But I’m not going to let her gain an inch.

  I run after her.

  She’s quick and has a head start, but I’m faster.

  She drops her sweatshirt, trying to sprint faster, but running won’t save her.

  Two more leaps, and I tackle her to the grass. Liesel tries to fight back, but she doesn’t have a chance. I overpower her easily, pinning her arms above her head as my weight holds her waist and legs down. She pants heavily with more anger than fear flickering in her hazel eyes.

  She’s covered in dirt, sand, and grass. There is nothing sexy about our appearances, and yet my erection pushes against her stomach. There is no hiding it.

  I growl instead of claiming her mouth like I want to.

  “When I give you an order, you follow it.”

  She grins. “No. I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Liar,” I breathe against her neck. “I can smell the terror in your sweat, feel the speed of your pulse—you’re petrified.”

  “I’m out of breath from running. Of course, I’m sweating, and my pulse is racing.”

  I shake my head as I see my staff approaching to greet me. They pause, but Liesel glances up, realizing we have an audience.

  “Do you see them?” I say, grabbing her chin and tilting her head up so I know she does.

  Her eyes cut back to me.

  “They work for me. They know exactly who I am, the evil I’ve done, and they still choose me. Their loyalty is with me. Every single one would die for me. Try to turn them. Try to run from them. Try, huntress.

  “Heed my warning…don’t trust anyone here. Don’t think you are safe. Everyone here has done fucked up things—stolen, tortured, killed. That’s the only way they end up working for me. And I won’t stop them from hurting you…”

  Liesel’s eyes widen.

  “You are only safe by my side, following my orders. If you do as I say, if you tell the truth, then your life here will be easy.”

  “I’ll still end up dead. What incentive is there to follow your orders?”

  I stroke her face, and she turns her head, trying to get away from me.

  “Your body might enjoy my touch, but would you enjoy theirs?”

  She gasps.

  Finally, I got through to her. She’s in danger when she’s not with me, not following me. It won’t keep her from fighting, but it might prevent her from seeking help from someone she shouldn’t.

  Slowly, I inch off her, despite my body screaming to crush her. To have my way with her right here, right now in the grass in front of everyone. To show everyone that she’s mine.

  She’s not mine. She never will be. Not truly.

  I stand, but don’t offer her a hand. I watch her closely, waiting to see if she will follow my orders this time or not. When she stands close and doesn’t run, she’s agreed to be obedient—for now, at least.

  I nod my approval at her change in attitude.

  It’s fake. I’m not naive enough to think this will last, but it will for now.

  “Stay close,” I say again.

  She grabs my hand and squeezes, pressing her vivacious body against mine. “Close enough?” she purrs.

  “Don’t test me, Liesel.”

  She lifts our joined hands up to her lips and plants a kiss on the back of my hand. “I’m just doing as you asked.”

  “Sir, would you like me to take your bag?” Shawn asks.

  “Yes, thanks.” I realize I dropped my backpack when I was chasing Liesel down the hill.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your employee?” Liesel asks, batting her eyes like a shy little girl at Shawn.

  Liesel isn’t shy. This is all an act.

  “No, you don’t need to know anyone. And they already know who you are.”

  “Oh? What did you tell them about me?”

  “You’re a lying bitch, and they shouldn’t trust you.” I drop her hand.

  “At least I’m not a murdering asshole.”

  I grab her hand again and pull her toward the house. I’m tired of dealing with her smart mouth.

  “I’ll show you around.” The sooner I give her a tour, the sooner I can be done with her. I’ll lock her up in a room and run the hell away.

  If I spend too much time with her, I’ll lose my mind.

  “Pool,” I say, pointing out the infinity pool that rivals any view in the world. It shoots out over the cliff and looks down at the beach. The sun sets every night over the ocean, and my house has a perfect view.

  “Are you just going to state the obvious during this tour or actually point out the things that matter?”

  I frown and ignore her, jerking her hand, pulling her along as I walk.

  Several of my employees scatter at the sight of us walking in through the back door. Good, they got the message I made clear to Shawn. Don’t talk to us.

  “Kitchen,” I point to my left.

  “Dinning room,” I nod to my right.

  Liesel stops, and my arm jerks back. I think she’s afraid I’m going to lock her in a dungeon, but when I look at her, I realize she stopped because she’s in awe.

  She’s taking in all the finishings—the bamboo floors, the giant glass doors that open up the entire house, the handcrafted cabinets.

  I take a moment to glance aroun
d and really take in the house, trying to see it for the first time through her eyes.

  Her mouth falls open when she spots the porch swing that looks like it’s in the house, when really it sits just outside the living room. When the glass walls close, the swing is outside, but the doors are almost never closed.

  Slowly, her head turns to me. “This house…” she whispers.

  She can’t finish.

  “I didn’t build it for you. I built it for me. This was my dream.”

  One of her eyebrows raises—she’s skeptical. She should be. When I built this house, it was built with our childhood dream house in mind. This was the house we both dreamed up when we were nine. This house. Whether I meant to build it for her or for us, it makes no difference. It’s our dream house to a T.

  “It’s incredible,” Liesel says, and she really means it.

  “I know. I built it. Of course, it’s amazing.”

  That earns me the tiniest smile. For a moment, it feels like we are kids again, teasing each other, instead of foes locked in a battle to the end.

  “Let’s finish the tour,” I say. I don’t take her hand this time. I don’t want to be connected to her as I realize that sharing this house with her is as personal as if I were to cut my chest open and reveal the depths of my heart.

  “This floor is the staff bedrooms,” I say, walking her through the house.

  The number of bedrooms is the only thing that differs from the house we imagined and this one. In our dream house, we only needed two bedrooms.

  One for each of us.

  We didn’t need bedrooms for staff.

  We didn’t need bedrooms for kids.

  We didn’t need guest bedrooms.

  In our world, this house was meant to be just ours.

  Ours.

  Of course, there was never an ‘ours,’ never an ‘us.’

  Just her.

  And me.

  Locked in a bitter war.

  I lead her up the stairs.

  “More bedrooms,” I say, showing her a couple. And then we walk past a door.

  “And this room?”

  “Is mine, not yours. This half of the house is off-limits to you,” I say, pointing down the hallway.