“Watch your fucking mouth,” Sean says. “You don’t get to disrespect my girlfriend, and if you come anywhere near her I’ll cut your fucking balls off.”
The clacking of heels distracts all of us.
“No loitering in the hallways and the bell has already rang,” the small, curvy woman with the pinched features says, jabbing her finger in the air in our direction. Her name badge says Vice Principal Pierson. “Get to class now.”
“You need to have a word with your superior,” Saint says, fixing a dark glare on the woman. “If you ever dare speak to us like that again, I’ll raze your house to the ground.” He moves closer, and his face is so close to hers his nose is almost bumping hers. “With your husband Travis and your son Cameron in it.”
The vice principal pales, clutching a shaky hand to her chest.
I’d like to reassure her that he’s spoofing, but I know The Sainthood has no qualms about hurting innocent children.
“Come on.” Sean places one hand on each of our lower backs, urging me and Sariah forward. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
CHAPTER 4
IT’S HARD TO concentrate on my classes after the bomb that’s just been dropped in my lap, but I try, because I can’t afford to fall behind. There’s no way I’ll maintain my 4.1 GPA if I allow distractions to derail me. I’m on a countdown to the day I graduate and I can get the fuck out of this town. No one is messing that up for me. Especially not The Sainthood.
I have my heart set on attending Brown, like my father did. The only issue is Mom. I don’t like the thought of leaving her here all alone, but I doubt she’ll want to move clear across the country. Her business is here, and she’s very attached to the house because it’s where I grew up and all her memories of Dad are embedded into the bricks and mortar. She knows I’ve already received an early offer from Brown. That I want to follow in Dad’s footsteps, and she’s never had an issue with it.
But that was before Dad died.
We haven’t discussed it since because Mom has largely checked out of life.
I know it’s a conversation we need to have someday soon.
But it’s all hypothetical anyway until I find a way of squashing fate.
“How is day one so far?” Sean asks as we line up in the cafeteria at lunchtime.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I reply, grabbing a bottle of water and a small salad from the refrigerator.
“Batshit Branning made her stand at the top of math class and introduce herself,” Sariah says.
“I tried to get away with a vague introduction,” I explain as the line moves forward. “But she wasn’t happy until I’d given up my life story.”
Sariah grins. “The look on her face when you confirmed your favorite sex position was extended cowgirl and how you were the girl from The Sainthood video was fucking priceless.”
“She couldn’t get me back to my seat fast enough.” I grin at the recollection as I hold out my plate. The server slaps two indistinguishable lumps of food on the plate and hands it back to me. I squint at the sludge on my plate, my stomach churning at the unpleasant smells assaulting my nostrils. “I wouldn’t serve this to my pet pig,” I grumble, abandoning the plate and heading toward the prepackaged sandwiches. I’d rather eat processed meat sandwiched between dry bread than risk the complete unknown.
“You have a pet pig?” a hot guy with cute dimples asks, arching a brow. He’s standing with Sean, so I assume he’s a friend although Sean hasn’t made introductions yet.
“No, but if I did, I wouldn’t give it that slop.”
He chuckles, and waves of messy chocolate-brown hair fall into his eyes. “Can’t disagree. The food here is shit, but it beats starving.”
“I think I’d rather starve,” I deadpan, inspecting the pathetic sandwich offerings on display.
He chuckles again, moving aside to let Sean and Sariah pass. “I’m guessing the food here is a lot different than the food at Lowell Academy.”
I nod as I grab a ham and cheese sandwich that looks like it’s the most edible. “That’s the only thing I’ll miss about the place.”
“I’m Emmett, by the way,” he says, whipping my tray from my hands.
I glare at him as I grab it back. “Did I ask you to carry it?”
His grin expands, and he’s even hotter when he smiles. His warm brown eyes glimmer with interest. “I’m just being a gentleman.”
I walk off, following in the direction my bestie and her boyfriend have taken. Emmett keeps pace at my side, and I glance up at him. Judging by his height and his ripped body, I’m guessing he’s a football player too. “If you’re looking to get into my panties, acting like a gentleman is a surefire recipe for failure.”
I’m walking past a long table when a leg darts out on purpose. I jump over Galen’s foot at the very last second, narrowly avoiding wearing my lunch. I plaster a bored look on my face as I stare at him. “Real mature, asshole.”
I ignore all members of The Sainthood, walking away with Emmett faithfully clinging to my side.
“Let me guess. You’re into assholes,” he asks, a tinge of disappointment underscoring his words.
“And if I was?” I ask, sliding into a seat at the empty table opposite the jock table. Sariah shoots me a look, but she gets up from her seat beside Sean and moves over to my table.
“Then I’d tell you I’ve no desire to be an asshole, and I’d go out of my way to prove that nice guys can be bad in all the right ways,” he says, waggling his brows as he hovers over the table.
A genuine smile slides over my mouth. “There might be hope for you yet.”
“Does that mean I can join you for lunch?” he asks, sharing a look with Sean as he too leaves the jock table, claiming the seat beside his girlfriend, across from me.
“Nope.” The chair beside me scrapes noisily along the tile floor as Saint plops down into it. “This seat is taken.” He levels a dark look at Emmett. “Permanently.”
“Fuck off, Saint.” I move to stand, but he grabs my wrist, keeping me in place.
I hate how my skin tingles from the contact.
How his touch coaxes a host of memories from the furthermost place in my mind.
How my brain rejoices at reliving every second of that hot night we shared together.
“I’m not sitting with you or any of your minions,” I add as Caz, Galen, and Theo sit down around us. “I’d rather sit at the fucking jock table.”
Emmett extends his hand. “You can sit with me.”
I place my hand in his, purely to taunt Saint. I attempt to wrench my other hand away from Saint, but he tightens his hold on my wrist, almost crushing my bones as he refuses to let me go.
Caz stands, rounding the table and pulling Emmett’s hand out of mine. “Don’t be an idiot. Stick with the cheerleaders,” he says, shoving him forcefully toward the jock table.
Emmett stumbles back a few feet before recovering. He reclaims the gap, squaring up to Caz. “I don’t take orders from thugs.”
“Maybe you should,” Theo says, not lifting his eyes from his iPad. “Unless you’d prefer your sister get kicked out of the hospital program.” He tips his chin up, staring at him with a face devoid of emotion. “She’ll probably die without that experimental drug, right?”
I’m not surprised the assholes have done their homework. It’s basic survival of the fittest. You don’t rock up to a new school without ammunition. And there’s no better ammunition than secrets and weak spots. My experience taught me that as well.
Secrets are the most important currency around these parts.
“Sit at the jock table, Emmett,” I say through clenched teeth. “It was never going to happen anyway.”
In another lifetime, before I was forced down this path, I could see myself with someone like Emmett. A nice guy with a side order of bad. Someone who could push my buttons and rein me in.
But this is my reality. And the Emmetts of this world don’t belong in it.
He�
��s seething. His fists are balled up and ready to unleash pain. But starting something would not be smart. And he’s obviously got smarts because, a couple seconds later, he turns around and wordlessly retreats to the jock table.
“Let go of my wrist,” I demand, plastering a neutral expression on my face as I eyeball Saint.
“Are you going to behave?” His thumb makes circular motions against my skin.
“No.”
He smirks, and his eyes burn with intensity as he rakes his gaze up and down my body. His inked fingers continue exploring the skin on the underside of my wrist, and I squirm on my seat as a trail of shivers ghosts over my flesh. He notices, his full lips kicking up in amusement, the dark glint in his eyes flaring with liquid heat.
My core throbs, pulsing in fast succession as his intense gaze does funny things to my insides.
Why the hell does the bastard have to be so freaking hot? And why the hell is he the first guy to ever evoke this type of visceral reaction in me?
I don’t answer my inner monologue because I already know the answers. I just don’t want to admit it or act on it.
“Then, I’m not letting go.”
I’m sure the sharp edge of a blade pressed against that growing bulge in his jeans would do the job. And I could easily reach down and remove my knife from the inside of my boot, but showing my hand this early would be a bad move, so I shut my mouth and urge my twitching fingers to retreat.
“Let her go,” Sean says, casually peeling an orange as he stares at Saint over the table. “Agree to leave Sariah and Harlow alone, and I’ll help you claim the crown at Lowell High.”
Saint grins, yanking me in closer to his side. His arm locks around my shoulders, keeping me firmly in place. “We don’t need any help claiming the crown. We already own it. Tomorrow’s planned little show is just that. A show. A demonstration of what will happen to anyone who dares challenge our authority.”
“You underestimate Finn’s reach if you think a visual threat will bring everyone to heel,” Sean coolly replies. “But if you have the jocks and the cheerleaders on your side, any lingering resistance will die out. It’ll make for a smoother transition.”
Saint runs his free hand over his cropped hairline. “Why would you help?”
“Because I’m a pragmatist. This will happen either way. And I’d rather it happened without anyone getting hurt.”
Galen snorts. “What the fuck do you see in this sap?” He directs his question at Sariah. “You need to sample a real man, sweetheart,” he adds, cupping his crotch. I don’t know if he’s flirting with my bestie to piss me off, incite a fight with Sean, or if he genuinely is interested in her, but he’s already rubbing me the wrong way, and I hate that he’s getting to me.
That they’re all getting to me.
Galen needs taken down a peg or ten. “I’ve already had a sample, and trust me, it’s nothing to brag about,” I drawl, wresting myself out from under Saint’s arm. I glare at him as he slams my hand to the table, pinning it underneath his much stronger, much larger, palm. And fuck him. Because he knows how to incapacitate me. If I had the use of that hand, I could free myself. Elbow him in the ribs. Hit his carotid at the perfect point to render him unconscious. Grab his nuts and twist so hard he’d see stars. I could attempt it with my free hand, but I’d have to stretch across my body to reach him, and his reflexes are too sharp. He’d see me coming and stop the move before I’d have time to engage.
“Try telling that to your greedy pussy,” Galen replies, slanting me with a poisonous look. “Your pussy was riding my cock so hard I almost impaled your womb.” He says this deliberately loud, and chuckles surround me as the crowd gives him the attention he seeks.
“I was squeezing that hard in the hope I’d break your cock,” I coolly retort. “Don’t convince yourself it was anything but an angry fuck when we both know the truth.”
“Enough.” Saint hauls me to my feet, wrapping his arm snuggly under my breasts in a way that screams possession. Holding me securely to his body, with my back against his chest, he whispers in my ear, “Make any move, and I’ll humiliate you in front of the entire cafeteria.”
As if I’d care.
I’m tempted to do it, just to piss him off, but I’m more intrigued to know exactly what The Sainthood’s game plan is. Nothing they do is without calculation. And I want to know their angle so I can counteract it.
So, for now, I’ll play their little game while I’m in the intel-gathering phase.
“Fuck you,” I auto-reply, holding still in his grip.
“That was a one-time thing, sweetheart. The Saints never go back for seconds.”
I’ve heard the rumors. That they never date. They only fuck girls once. And they always fuck girls as if it’s a team sport. But I’ve also heard they ignore their conquests after they’ve spread their legs. I know why I’m different, but no one else does, and their public expression of interest in me will make others suspicious.
“Good,” I say, “because I’d rather slit my throat and die a slow and painful death than fuck any of you again.”
“Liar.” His warm breath fans over my ear, and my body betrays me, shivering as delicious tremors zip through my limbs.
Most everyone in the cafeteria is watching us, so when he speaks, he has the attention of the entire place. “Listen up.” His deep voice projects around the room. “The princess is off-limits. She belongs to us. Touch her and you’ll regret it.”
I’m still puzzling over it hours later when I arrive home, parking my SUV in the ten-car garage beside Mom’s silver BMW and a strange red truck.
I’m cursing Saint under my breath as I saunter into the two-story beige-brick house, plotting various ways to murder him. I’m resourceful and skilled, and it doesn’t take me long to compile a long list. I’m grinning to myself as I imagine ripping his heart from his body and putting it through a blender as I watch him bleed out slowly on the floor, gasping for air as he gradually dies.
I walk through the lobby, past the sweeping hardwood stairs with the mirrored banisters, along the porcelain-tiled hallway. I pass by the closed door of Dad’s study, the library, and reading room, and head straight for the open-plan kitchen and dining room, searching for Mom, but she isn’t there. Remembering the unfamiliar red truck, I head toward the formal living room next. That’s where she usually brings guests. But that room is empty too. Sounds of laughter filter from the main living area, and I head in that direction, unprepared for the sight that awaits me.
I stand stock-still in the doorway, blinking excessively, wishing my eyes were deceiving me when I know they’re not.
Mom is lying flat on her back on one of the gray leather couches, smiling up at the man looming over her. They are fully clothed, but their bodies are strategically positioned in a way that confirms familiarity, and I see red. I storm into the room like a wild tornado hellbent on destruction.
“What the fuck is going on?” I roar as I round the couch, stopping in front of them. My dirty boots leave a trail of mud on the gray, pink, and white rug I know she spent a fortune on, but I don’t care.
At this proximity, it’s even worse. Mom’s legs are parted, and the man is thrusting his hips against hers. I don’t need to see his erection to know he’s sporting one. His hand is kneading her breast through her blouse, and I’m seconds away from personal nuclear detonation.
I cannot fucking believe this.
Her head turns to the side, and she looks at me with a horrified expression, swatting at the man’s chest, trying to push him off. But the guy is tall and well-built, and Mom’s small hands do nothing.
The man jerks his head up, his icy-blue eyes locking on mine. All the blood drains from my face as I watch a sleazy smile creep over his mouth. My heart stutters in my chest.
“Hello, sweetheart.” His gruff voice sends shards of dread coursing all over my body, and hatred blooms in my chest.
A thin line of sweat glides down my spine as my heart starts thumping w
ildly, careening around my rib cage. Blood rushes to my ears, and pain throbs in my skull.
Inside, I’m a mess. My emotions rage at me, begging to be set free. I’ve been assaulted on several fronts today, but I won’t let this break me. I paint an appropriate mask on my face so he can’t see the turmoil turning my insides upside down.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demand, my gaze jumping between him and Mom as I execute my role perfectly.
“I’m your new daddy,” he answers, and I lunge at him without hesitation.
CHAPTER 5
I HALF-GRAB him off my mom, ignoring her screams as I ram my fist in his face. Rage surges to the surface, and I unleash the beast, thrusting my fist forward again.
He reacts superfast, rolling off the couch onto the floor, grabbing hold of my ankle, and tugging sharply. I go down hard, landing flat on my back with pain darting up my spine. But my reflexes are quick too, and before he can climb over me and subdue me, I lift my leg, jamming my knee into his junk. An animalistic roar rips from his throat as he collapses on his side, clutching his crotch and writhing in agony. I climb to my feet as Mom scurries to his side. “Oh my God. Are you okay?”
“She kneed me in the balls!” he shouts. “Of course, I’m not okay.” He squeezes his eyes shut, moaning as I stand over them with my hands on my hips, my eyes fastened on my mom’s hand as she sweeps it up and down his arm in a soothing gesture.
Anger pummels my insides, and I glare at her.
“Everyone, just calm down,” she says, eyeing me warily. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Harlow. I wasn’t expecting you home for another hour.”
“Clearly,” I deadpan.
“You didn’t go to kickboxing class?”
“The instructor got sick. Canceled the class at lunchtime.”
“Perhaps, she shouldn’t go to kickboxing,” the asshole on the floor says, “if that’s what they’re teaching kids there.”
“I’m not a kid. And I didn’t learn that technique there. My first self-defense class taught me that handy little trick.”
The Sainthood : A Dark High School Romance (The Complete Series) Page 6