The Sainthood : A Dark High School Romance (The Complete Series)

by Siobhan Davis

  A topless waitress steps forward carrying a tray of drug baggies. My mouth turns dry as my eyes fixate on the branding etched on the front of the small plastic bags. It’s The Sainthood’s signature branding, the same drawing that members have inked on their skin—a dark circle with a burning cross in the center.

  Senior members get the symbol inked on their chests once they attain full membership, while junior members are branded on their backs. A shiver works its way through me as I stare at the bag. On the bottom of the infamous symbol it reads Lowell Chapter in capital letters, and my skin crawls at the confirmation The Sainthood has moved into town and intends to stay.

  “With the compliments of The Sainthood,” the pretty girl says, blatantly eye-fucking Emmett from head to toe.

  The Sainthood isn’t pulling any punches tonight. They are making sure every person at school is locked down tight, and in a couple of strategic moves, they’ve wiped the board with Finn and his paltry opposition.

  Controlling the drug trade at Lowell High is a smart move, but Lowell Academy is a loftier prize, and owning the streets is where the real money is made. I’m guessing they’ll be making moves to go after that turf as well.

  We might as well avail of the free weed, so I grab the entire contents from the tray, distributing the bags among us. I stuff a bunch right down the front of my dress, concealing them behind the tight leather.

  “You can’t—” the girl starts to say, shooting daggers at me.

  “This is my house, so I think you’ll find that I can, and I just have.” My stare dares her to challenge me, and she instantly backs down.

  Emmett chuckles as we walk past her toward the living room. “I think your sass turned her on. Her nipples went rock hard when you challenged her.”

  I roll my eyes, scoffing. “Don’t play dumb, Emmett. We both know you’re the one who creamed her panties and turned her nipples hard.”

  He laughs, sliding his arm around my shoulders, as we step into the den of iniquity, formerly known as our living room.

  “Ho. Lee. Shit.” Sean’s eyes pop wide as we stop at the entrance to the room to take it all in.

  “This is hardcore,” Sariah admits, shaking her head in disbelief as she looks around.

  “They had people here all day transforming the place.” All the overhead chandeliers have been draped in red and black coverings, casting a garish glow over the proceedings below. The gray walls are concealed behind tall black and red freestanding panels that rim the room on all sides.

  Mom’s furniture has been moved out to make way for modern black and red leather couches grouped around low, glossy black coffee tables with ornate floral centerpieces and buckets of beer and vodka on each table. All the couches are positioned around the sides of the room, leaving the middle of the space free. Music thumps from mobile speakers in the four corners of the room, and a teeming crowd jumps around the makeshift dance floor.

  The scent of weed is strong, and everyone in the room is high even if they’re not smoking it.

  More semi-naked girls man the temporary bar set up at the top of the room, and hordes of horny male seniors, with obvious hard-ons, crowd the space, ogling the girls. At a separate counter off to one side, our classmates line up to snort complimentary lines of coke.

  I smoke weed on occasion, but I steer clear of other drugs because that shit messes with your head, and my head’s fucked up enough as it is.

  Our fellow seniors are idiots. Falling into the trap like gullible fools.

  After tonight, the guys have Lowell High sewn up tighter than a nun’s panties.

  After tonight, the guys will reign supreme.

  And I fucking hate how easy everyone made it for them.

  “Fuck me.” Sariah stares at me like this is insane.

  And it damn well is.

  None of our usual parties come even close to matching up.

  “Oh, you haven’t seen the worst of it yet,” I add, gesturing them forward. We move across the room, stepping over writhing couples and avoiding flailing limbs as we circle the outside of the dance floor. I grab us some vodka shots from the bar before we pass out into the back hallway, leading to the game room at the rear of the house.

  My phone pings, and I jump on it, but it’s only another text from Mom. She’s called and texted daily since Thursday, but her faux concern doesn’t fool me. I delete the text without reading it, biting on the inside of my cheek, and the pain helps ground me.

  The door is closed but the sounds and smell of sex permeate the air as we approach. I turn with my back to the door, lifting my shot up. “Down the hatch!” I toss back my shot, and the others do the same. I grin at them. “Prepare yourself because I’m pretty confident when I say you’ve seen nothing like this before.”

  I move to open the door, and Emmett circles his arm around my shoulder again, but I brush it off this time. “The goon squad is through here, and you need to stay back.”

  Emmett chuckles as he slinks away, putting distance between us.

  “It’d be good if you hooked up with someone,” I suggest, and he shrugs noncommittally.

  “I hope you’re not queasy,” I joke as I open the door and lead the way.

  The same décor has been used to transform this room, and the usual furniture has been removed and replaced with a bunch of mattresses strewn across the floor. Everyone in here is naked or semi-naked except for the assholes lording it over everyone else from the raised dais at the back of the room.

  “Are they sitting on thrones?” Sean chokes out.

  “Yeppers. They really are that obnoxious.” I glare at the four dickheads as they smoke and drink from gold-plated thrones while they watch the orgy unfolding before them.

  Everywhere I look, people are fucking, and there’s zero discrimination and zero limits here. I ignore the grunting, groaning, and thrashing bodies as I pick my way toward the makeshift stage.

  Saint hones in on me, his eyes practically burning my dress off my body as I slowly approach. His gaze treks down my long legs, and I know I made the right call ditching my thigh high boots in favor of the stilettos. My long, slim, shapely legs have always been one of my best features, and I’m not opposed to using my body for gain when there’s a need. I draw the line at full-on prostitution, but most everything else is fair game.

  Saint clicks his fingers, and one of the minions standing guard at the side of the stage moves forward to meet us. He stops directly in front of me. “Your friends are welcome to stay if they’re participating.” He looks over my shoulder. “Get naked or get out.”

  I glance behind me. “I’ll meet you back out in the main room.”

  Sariah slants a look at me, and we silently communicate. I nod, and she takes her boyfriend’s hand, drawing him away. I quirk a brow at Emmett. It’s his call.

  He casts a wary eye at the group of four guys and two girls on our left. It’s a total free-for-all. Two of the guys are fucking the girls, and the other two guys are fucking one another. “I’ll pass,” Emmett says, adding, “You sure you want to do this alone?”

  “I’ll be fine.” I subtly raise the hem of my dress on one side, showing the blade strapped to my upper outer thigh.

  His eyes blaze with heat, and I caution him with a firm look. I’ve no doubt Saint is watching us, and that guy misses nothing.

  “Okay. But if you’re not back in fifteen minutes, I’m coming to get you.”

  “I think someone has a hero complex,” I tease.

  “I fucking mean it, Lo.”

  He levels a glare at the stage, and I tug on his arm to capture his attention.

  What the fuck is he doing antagonizing them?

  “Think of your sister,” I whisper, and that snaps him into place. He turns and leaves, and I watch until he’s closed the door behind him before turning back around and walking toward my soon-to-be stepbrother.

  “Princess. How good of you to join us,” Saint drawls, patting his lap like I’m a dog.

  “Thrones?”
I ignore him, quirking a brow and placing my hands on my hips. “Really? Aren’t you guys supposed to be saintly and shit?”

  He cocks his head to the side, that smug superior grin plastered on his mouth as he pats his lap again. I guess the guy is used to chicks obeying his every wish and command. He’ll soon realize that’s not me.

  “You’ll have to change your name to The Kinghood.” My lips twitch. “Or maybe The Dickhood would be better,” I add in a deliberately breathy tone as I lean down into his face. “Because you’re all such dicks.”

  I straighten up, smirking as his nostrils flare. Saintly did not like that.

  “Looking sexy, babe. C’mere,” Caz calls outs from his slouched position on his throne. “That dress is straight fire.” His leg is thrown over one arm of the chair, and he’s doing nothing to hide the massive bulge in his dark jeans as he smokes a blunt and shamelessly ogles me. The guys are all bare chested, and I’m sure it’s a calculated move to have every female in the vicinity panting after them.

  I’m doing my best not to fall into that category, but damn, all four of them are sporting impressive chests and abs, and I know what they’re packing behind their boxers too, which does nothing to dampen my ardor.

  “You want to peel it off me?” I taunt, taking a step toward Caz.

  “Fuck yeah.” He thrusts his hips forward, unbuttoning his jeans. “Come ride me, princess.”

  “Caz,” Saint commands in that deadly low tone of his as he grabs my wrist, tugging me down on his lap. “Pull your shit together.” Saint whips his head to Galen while settling me on his lap. “Cut him off now.”

  Galen tugs the blunt from between Caz’s lips and slaps him across the face. “Sober up, shithead.”

  Caz flips him the bird as Saint’s arm wraps around my body, holding me in place. He blatantly stares down the front of my dress, and I glare at him.

  “Seriously, asshole? Everyone here knows you’re going to be my stepbrother. I’m off-limits, so that means keep your grabby hands to yourself.” I attempt to pull his arm away, but it’s like trying to move a ten-ton weight.

  He looks at me with a familiar amused grin. “We’re not blood related. I can fucking stare at you whenever I want and touch you however I like.” He lowers his gaze to my chest again, and his arm moves higher, brushing the undersides of my breasts.

  This guy is so confusing. He says he hates me, and he looks at me sometimes like he wants to rip my insides out and hang me from my entrails upside down. But I know he feels the intense chemistry between us too, because other times, he blatantly undresses me with his eyes and his dark, lust-fueled gaze speaks to all the naughty things he wants to do to my body.

  I think it’s fair to say Saint is as torn up about me as I am about him, and he doesn’t know what the fuck to do about it either.

  But I didn’t stay home tonight to attend this party only to be distracted. I have two things to achieve, and I’m determined to handle both before the night is over.

  CHAPTER 14

  MY GAZE LATCHES on to agenda item number one, and I stare at Parker and Finn as if I’m looking through them.

  I spotted them entering the room a little while ago and that’s when I snuck a quick look. The guys didn’t notice me poking my head in here, or I’m sure they would’ve had one of their minions drag me in. I’ve spent the hours before Sariah and the guys arrived dodging the Saints’ hired hands and watching my cell like a demented person, waiting for Darrow to call.

  I don’t have complete faith he can do this, and I hope I haven’t made a worthless deal with the devil, but I haven’t written him off just yet.

  The Arrows despise The Sainthood, and I’m relying on that hatred to work to my advantage. But I’m under no illusion when it comes to Darrow’s loyalty. He’s loyal to himself first and foremost, and I’m only a means to an end, irrespective of his professions of love.

  Darrow would throw his own mother under the bus if he thought there was something in it for him.

  I swivel on Saint’s lap, feeling his solid erection press against my ass, as I look down at him. His eyes darken, and the hold around my waist strengthens. “What?” he asks in a guarded tone and it’s almost comical.

  I sweep my fingers across his brow. “I think the drugs must have gone to your head. Why else would you invite Finn, Parker, Brooklyn, and Beth? Losing your touch, Saintly?”

  He smirks, and his tongue darts out as he purposely trails his gaze to the mattress where Parker is blowing Finn while his bestie Brooklyn fucks her from behind.

  Beth is lying flat on her back underneath them, sucking on Parker’s tits as Brooklyn fingers her cunt. From the glazed looks in their eyes, I can tell they are all completely wasted.

  Saint watches me watching with a calculated edge to his expression.

  “Nothing I do is without reason, princess.” He pauses for a second, his eyes meeting Parker’s as she turns her head in his direction, eye-fucking Saint while she’s sucking Finn’s cock and taking Brooklyn’s dick for a ride.

  She really is a conniving, disloyal bitch.

  “Parker has something I want,” he admits.

  “Well, it can’t be her mouth because I’ve seen grannies suck popsicles with more skill than that.”

  Caz chuckles. Galen smirks. And Theo warns me with a sharp look. The latter’s attempts to ingratiate himself to me are wearing thin.

  Saint’s eyes glint with wicked intent. “You could do better?”

  “In my fucking sleep.” I pin sultry eyes on Caz. “I don’t remember Caz complaining.” I deliberately omit mention of Galen even though I sucked his cock too, because neither of us need reminding of that.

  “Our princess gives good head,” he confirms, waggling his brows.

  Galen snarls. “You can put that on your résumé. At least you’ll have one skill set you can brag about.”

  “I have a 4.1 GPA and plenty of skills I could brag about.” Sliding my blade out, I lean toward him, brandishing it in his face. “Care for a demonstration of my knife skills? I can carve your pretty face up quicker than you can draw a breath.”

  Saint takes my wrist, pulling me back from his cousin, his eyes roaming appreciatively over my Strider SMF. “Do you always bring blades to parties?”

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?” I quip, sliding my blade back into the holder strapped to my thigh.

  He grins, holding my gaze prisoner with that lethal lens of his, and I return his stare. “You made your point, princess.”

  “And you still haven’t answered my question.” I keep my eyes locked on his. “Why do you need Parker, and don’t insinuate it’s her cunt or her cocksucking skills because we both know that’s bullshit.”

  He plants my feet on the ground and stands. Clasping my hand, he walks me down the stage toward Finn and his pathetic crew, while I try to ignore the tremors zipping up and down my arm from his touch.

  He stops in front of them, keeping a tight hold of my hand.

  Finn glances warily at Saint before sharing a look with Brooklyn. Brooklyn slows his thrusting pace while Parker’s mouth makes a loud popping sound as she releases Finn’s dick.

  “Don’t stop,” Saint says. “The princess is going to give you a few tips.” He shoots me a wicked grin.

  Asshole.

  “She deems your cocksucking skills lacking.”

  Her eyes narrow calculatingly. “I could always give you a personal demonstration, Saint,” she purrs, ignoring the scowl her boyfriend sends her way. “And you can make your own assessment.”

  Saint scrubs a hand along his prickly jaw, looking like he might actually be considering it. “Tempting,” he says, winking at her. Finn growls, and he truly is an idiot. Saint grins like all his birthdays have come at once. “But we have a rule about sharing.”

  Parker’s eyes legit light up. “I can blow you all.” Her eagerness is spew-worthy.

  “Parker!” Finn snaps, glaring at his girlfriend as his erection noticeably wilts.

&nb
sp; “You’re used to being shared,” Saint adds, licking his lips as if he’s genuinely interested. “We’ll put it to a vote.”

  “Like fucking hell you will,” Finn spits, swaying a little as he attempts to face up to Saint. “She’s mine.”

  “News flash.” Saint grins viciously. “I don’t think your slut got the memo.” Saint reaches down, caressing her cheek, and she stares adoringly at him despite his slur.

  Unbridled rage courses through me, and I’m done pussyfooting around. “It’s her loss, Finn,” I cut in, keeping my voice level and my face devoid of the red-hot jealousy slaying me on the inside. “And my gain.”

  I yank my hand out of Saint’s, shoving him aside so I can press up against a very naked Finn. “You know I suck like a pro and can go all night. How long did we fuck at Robbin’s party that time?” I pretend to count in my head. “I believe it was six hours straight.” I smile seductively, piercing him with a lustful look. “I’m game for a repeat if you are.”

  Parker loses her shit, as I predicted. “You fucked that stupid slut?” she screeches at Finn, jumping up and lunging at me.

  But she’s high, drunk, and a fucking imbecile, and I’m way faster on my feet. I have her in a headlock with my knife pressed to her neck before she’s even realized it. “Why am I the slut and your boyfriend isn’t? Huh? Haven’t you heard it takes two to tango?” I smile smugly at Saint as I spy Galen, Caz, and Theo approaching from behind. “To be clear, he wasn’t your boyfriend at the time. We were both single and free to fuck our brains out all night long, which we sooooo did.” I press the knife into her neck as she wriggles against me, and the blade cuts her skin.

  She screams like I’ve just gutted her, and I remove my knife from her throat before I accidentally kill her.

  If I end up in jail, I want it to be for something worthwhile.

  Stepping back, I thrust her at Finn. “You deserve a fucking medal for putting up with that shit. I’m guessing her pussy is a better ride than her mouth because there sure as fuck isn’t anything else going for her.”