by Becca Steele
Not that I could blame her for my current situation. No, that was all me.
Bloody tequila slammers.
The house loomed on the horizon, and I clambered off my borrowed bike on shaky legs, turning the lights off and stashing the bike behind a handy hedge. Turning off the maps app on my phone, I crept towards the house, staying on the soft grass that ran alongside the gravel driveway. There were at least seven or eight different cars parked outside, and from the music spilling out of the house, it looked like the Four were having a bit of a party. Good. It meant I could go unnoticed.
I scanned the cars until I spotted Caiden’s. Thanks to my observational skills and my social media stalking, it was easy to tell which was his. The low-slung, matte-black Audi R8 Spyder was parked up off to the side of the house, away from the entrance. Perfect.
I inched closer and closer and withdrew the can of spray paint from my hoodie pocket with shaking hands. Clutching the can in my left hand, I reached out with my right and ran it over the smooth paintwork. The cycle here had sobered me up a lot, but not enough to back down. When I thought about how Caiden had acted towards me, I hardened my resolve. I was truly sorry to deface such a beautiful car, but Caiden needed to learn I wouldn’t take his shit lying down.
Pulling the lid off, I shook the can in my hand and directed the nozzle at the side of the R8, sending the jet of bright pink paint straight onto the door. Working quickly, I moved the can, spelling out the letters K-I-N-G, then taking a step backwards to admire my handiwork before starting on the second word.
I crashed straight into a body and froze, my heart hammering in my chest.
The can of paint fell from my hand, clattering against the stones that littered the surface of the driveway.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” a low, furious voice hissed in my ear, and strong arms came around me, pinning my arms down so I was helpless to move away. It would have been pointless to try. He was huge, and I was no match for him physically.
Shit.
“I-I went out for a bike ride.”
He laughed darkly. “At least attempt to make your story believable, Snowflake.” Pushing me forwards, using his body weight to make me move, he spoke in my ear again, his proximity and hostile tone sending my body into high alert. “You’re coming with me.”
We walked the short distance to the house—or more accurately, I stumbled along unwillingly, Caiden moving me where he wanted me to go. Inside, he spoke in a clipped tone.
“Upstairs. First room on the right.”
My legs carried me up the stairs, and I hesitated at the top.
“Go.” He pushed me, and I fell forwards through the open door, catching myself before I could tumble to the ground and turning around to glare at him.
“Stop throwing your weight around, you fucking asshole.”
“What did you call me?” He was suddenly all up in my face, his nostrils flaring and his eyes darkening as our angry breaths mingled.
“Fucking. Ass. Hole.” I drew out the words slowly, exaggeratedly, leaning into him, my mouth so close to his that our lips were almost touching.
“You’re going to pay for that.” His angry tone turned into a whispered promise, low and deadly, as his hands reached around me, holding my arms in place. I struggled against him fruitlessly. He was far too strong.
Time to try another tactic.
I went limp, letting my body sag into his. Unprepared, he rocked backwards, his grip loosening. I took the chance to bring my knee up, smashing it straight into his groin.
He gasped, dropping me altogether, falling backwards and clutching himself.
“You bitch,” he wheezed out. He recovered much more quickly than I anticipated, and I panicked at the murderous intent in his eyes, blindly racing for a door on the other side of the room, my heart hammering out of my chest.
There was no point in running—he was much too fast. He threw himself at my back, sending us both tumbling to the floor, rolling over until I was pinned underneath him, my breath coming in short pants. I bucked my body, trying to throw him off, but he slung his full body weight across me.
“I can’t breathe.” He was like a dead weight on top of me, his hands holding my arms in place, his legs entwined with mine. My forehead and nose hurt where I’d scraped my face across the carpet in our struggle, the burn making my eyes water.
“Good.”
“Caiden.” My voice was a hoarse whisper. “Can’t. Breathe.” I gasped, adrenaline and fear fizzing through my veins as I thrashed, trying to turn my head to the side to get more air into my lungs.
“I despise you, you know.” He let go of my arms suddenly and shifted his body, untangling our legs, enabling me to get some precious air into my lungs. I lay back, drained, trying to work out how I’d somehow gone from doing shots with my friend to lying under the person who hated me with a passion. I stared up at him, the expression on his gorgeous face full of loathing as he looked down at me.
My fear melted away as my traitorous body reacted to his proximity. Fuck. He was insanely sexy. All dark, brooding anger, his lethal body tensed and ready to strike at any moment, his muscular, tattooed arms either side of me, holding him effortlessly in place.
“Why do you hate me so much?” I whispered, finding it hard to catch my breath for a very different reason now.
He stared silently at me; then as if he’d become aware of my thoughts, he drew back, an expression of disgust on his face. “Don’t look at me like that again.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to fuck you.”
“Ugh, no thanks.” My voice held no conviction, and we both knew it.
He moved into a standing position in one smooth motion. “Get up.”
I sat up, and he indicated towards the huge bed to the side of me. “Sit there and do not move until I come back.” He strode from the room, slamming the door behind him, and I heard a loud click. Rushing to the door, I pulled at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. The bastard had locked me in. Who the fuck has locks on internal doors, anyway? People with something to hide, that’s who.
I pounded on the door uselessly, until my knuckles were burning, before I finally admitted defeat. Crawling over to the bed, I pulled myself onto it and collapsed back against the soft dark grey covers. The throbbing from my sore head grew more intense, and I closed my eyes, tears leaking from the corners.
That was the last thing I remembered.
“She vandalised my fucking car!”
“Bitch!”
“You keyed hers.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Why did you bring her in here?”
“What happened to her face?”
The voices fell silent, and I slowly blinked my eyes open to find four pairs of eyes staring down at me. They were all here.
Brilliant.
I moved into a seated position, supporting my back against the wooden headboard behind me. The dull thud of music I’d heard earlier had gone, the house quiet. I licked my dry lips and spoke, directing my question at no one in particular. “What’s going on?”
“You’re hurt.” Cassius sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing me with concern. “What happened to your face?”
“Someone thought it would be a great idea to tackle me to the floor, and I scraped my face along the carpet.”
“You shouldn’t have kneed me in the balls, should you?” Caiden shot me one of his hostile glares, and I looked away, unable to find the strength to go up against him right now. I was tired, in pain, and my friend tequila was no longer my friend. The throbbing headache it had left me with just added to the pain in my face, and I groaned.
Cassius grasped my chin gently, his fingers skimming over the carpet burns on my nose and head, and I hissed.
“Sorry. I’ll get something to help.” He stood and walked out of the room, while the other three remained standing, their poses mirroring each other—crossed arms and tense bodies.
“I
’m going to check the feeds.” At least, I think that was what Weston mumbled before he turned on his heel and left us, throwing me a sad smile, disappointment clear in his eyes.
Cassius returned with his arms full of supplies, setting them on the table next to the bed. “Let’s patch you up, babe.” He dipped a cotton ball in a bowl of cool water and brought it to my face, dabbing it on my skin.
“Ow. That stings.”
“Got to get it clean. It won’t hurt for long. Take your mind off your pain by imagining all the ways you could inflict pain on Cade.”
Despite myself, I laughed, glancing over at Caiden to see a tiny smile appear on his lips, which disappeared almost instantly. Our eyes met, and we both looked away quickly. Zayde stared between us, his face expressionless, before he turned and left the room, leaving me with Caiden and Cassius.
“We need to have a talk,” Cassius announced as he put the lid back on the ointment he’d smeared over my sore skin. He handed me two painkillers and a glass of water, and I swallowed them, willing them to work on my headache. “What’s all this about you sneaking over here to graffiti Cade’s car?”
“Hang on, why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” I’d barely been aware of my surroundings, but now I noticed how Cassius was only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, his muscles rippling and flexing, tattoos snaking up both arms. I tilted my head, studying the intricate designs.
He gave me a sly grin, leaning back and running a hand through his dirty-blond hair. “I prefer not to when I’m in my own home. Enjoying the view?”
I blushed, turning away from him, catching Caiden’s eye. He was glaring. Again. Although this time, it was directed at Cassius.
Cassius followed my line of sight, and he sighed heavily. “I’m going to get a T-shirt. Can I trust you two not to kill each other while I’m gone?”
I shrugged. “Bring a towel back with you in case there’s a bloodbath.”
He snorted and left us alone.
“Plastic sheets.” Caiden spoke softly.
“Huh?”
“If we put them down on the floor, it’s easier to clean up. No blood staining the carpet.”
“Okay, now I’m disturbed. How—no, I don’t even want to know.”
“You brought up the bloodbath.”
“You basically attacked me.”
“You graffitied my car. You don’t want to start a war with me, Snowflake. You won’t win.”
“A war? Look, I’m sorry I defaced such a pretty car, but you had it coming.”
“Such a girl. My car is not ‘pretty.’ And I did not have it coming. That paint better wash off, or I’ll be sending you the bill.” His words were hissed through gritted teeth.
“It is. And you did. And, please, like you can’t afford to have it cleaned off. May I remind you, you started this whole thing by keying my car.”
“That thing is a heap of junk. I improved it, if anything.”
“How is writing the word ‘whore’ improving it?” My voice rose in frustration. “It’s a horrible, asshole-ish thing to do.”
He ignored my comments. “Why are you driving that piece of crap around, anyway? Can’t mother dearest buy you a better one?”
“I’ll never take any money from her,” I bit out. “It’s bad enough that I had to use her name—your name—just to get into this bloody university. I don’t want to owe her anything.”
He stared at me, his stormy eyes clouding over. “I don’t understand.”
“What exactly don’t you understand?”
Cassius chose that moment to walk back into the room, a black T-shirt covering his impressive torso. “Look at that. No blood. You can play nicely together.”
Caiden took a step back, his face smoothing into an impassive mask. “I’m out of here. Get her out of my sight.”
And there he was, back to being an asshole again. Just when we were having our first civil-ish interaction. Or argument. Whatever. I rolled my eyes as he left the room.
“Right, if we’re done here, I’m going home. I’ve got a tequila hangover already and a ten-o’clock lecture, and it’s—what time is it?”
“Two fifteen.”
“Great.”
“Probably wasn’t the best idea to drink tequila on a school night, was it?” Cassius raised a brow at me.
“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” I stood, gripping my head as the headache returned with a vengeance.
“You’re not riding that bike back home,” he stated.
“How did you know I rode a bike here?”
“Security cameras. West saw you on the feeds.”
Oh.
“Can you drive me?”
“Sorry, babe. I’ve had a few beers; I’m over the limit. I don’t think any of us are under. I’ll call you a cab. Or…” A mischievous expression crossed his face. “You can crash here if you want?”
Here? Bad, bad idea.
“What? Here? Are you serious? Won’t His Highness go mad?”
“I really want to be there when you call him that to his face,” he smirked. “Yeah, stay here. Cade needs a bit of payback for keying your car, and seeing your pretty face tomorrow morning should annoy him. How are you at cooking?”
Should I stay? It was a terrible idea, but I found myself agreeing. Partly because I was feeling the effects of the tequila and I really, really needed to sleep, but if I was honest with myself, it was mostly for the fact that it would piss Caiden off. I touched my head gingerly, wincing as my fingers came into contact with the carpet burn. It would take more than me staying over to pay him back for what he’d done to me, but it was a way to get under his skin, so I’d take it. “I really don’t think seeing my face is punishment enough for him keying my car. But whatever, I’ll stay. And yes, I’ll cook breakfast, if that’s what you’re trying to ask me.”
“Good. You can sleep in my bed if you want?”
“I thought you said I was off limits?”
He sighed. “Yeah, better not. Stay in here, then. It’s our spare bedroom. You’ve got a bathroom through there, and you can lock the door from the inside if you want to.”
“Thanks. You’re really not so bad.”
“I’m fucking awesome. You’re not so bad, yourself. I’ll get you something to wear.”
He disappeared out of the room and returned a few minutes later with a soft black T-shirt that he threw onto the bed.
“There you go. Sweet dreams, Winter.”
“Night.”
Finally, I was left alone. I took the key from the outside lock, shut the door firmly, and locked the door from the inside, then sent a quick message to Kinslee, although she’d been dead to the world by the time I’d left her, sleeping off the effects of the tequila. Pulling on the T-shirt, I slipped under the covers. How had I ended up sleeping here, of all places?
Overcome with exhaustion, I closed my eyes and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
EIGHT
Have you ever woken up and stumbled downstairs all disorientated, to be confronted with the hottest guys you’ve ever seen?
I have.
I thought I was dreaming for a moment, but when I closed my eyes and reopened them, they were still there. “They” being Cassius, Weston, and Zayde. Caiden hadn’t appeared as I stood, bleary-eyed, my hair a tangled mess, wearing the T-shirt Cass had thrown at me, chopping mushrooms and tomatoes ready to go in the omelettes. Weston stood next to me at the huge black marble kitchen island, grating cheese.
Did I mention they were all shirtless?
I wasn’t the type to mindlessly drool over men’s torsos, but anyone with eyes would appreciate this view. Weston’s lean, toned body close to mine, and Cassius’ golden skin and his tattooed arms leaning on the island across from me, and Zayde… I let my eyes trail across his pecs, his abs, his arms…every single inch of ripped, exposed skin was covered in tattoos, and it was hot. So hot.
“Babe, when you’ve finished eye fucking us, I think the mushrooms are ready.” Cassius’ amused voice
snapped me out of my reverie, and I shook my head, focusing on breakfast.
“Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t eye fucking any of you, by the way. I was just…thinking about stuff.”
“Course you were.”
“Hang on, do you have matching tattoos?” I noticed an IV tattoo on Cassius’ left pec, just over his heart, and the same one on West’s ribs.
“Sure do, babe. We’re the Four. Hence the tattoo.” Cassius shrugged.
Right. “Where’s Zayde’s?” I mumbled under my breath, stealing a look at his inked body again. He gave me a cold, blank stare, and I turned to the range cooker, my face flushed.
As I tipped the eggs into the frying pan, the boys were forgotten and my mind turned to my mother, against my will. I needed to get closer to her, to find out as much as I could. She—
Every thought I’d had flew out of my head as I turned around to grab the mushrooms, right at the same moment Caiden sauntered into the kitchen.
Oh.
My.
Fucking.
Days.
Maybe my stupid hormones were taking over, because my heart rate shot up and my mouth went dry as I drank him in. Faded, ripped jeans, the top of an IV tattoo just showing above the waistband, tantalising me, acres of tanned, tattooed skin, and muscles all over the place. As my eyes trailed up to his face, I saw an angular jaw, a fucking perfect nose, grey-blue eyes shadowed by ebony lashes, and just-rolled-out-of-bed messy black hair. Yep. Caiden was insanely gorgeous. How could anyone be that good-looking?
Hang on a minute.
I did a double take, noting the marks on his jeans, and the way his hands were stained a bright pink. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.
Anger filled Caiden’s face as he noticed me standing by the oven.
“What the fuck? Why is she here, and why is she wearing my fucking clothes?” He practically snarled his question at the other three, and I noticed Weston slinking around the island to put as much distance as possible between us.