by Amo Jones
“Bailey. Bailey Rose Vitiosis.”
“Okay, Bailey, well I’m going to get you out.” I stand, swiping the dirt from my knees. Brantley is already watching me. His jaw clenches, and then he rolls his eyes, his strides eating up the distance between us. Oh shit.
“Fine, but I swear to fuck, Tillie, she is your responsibility.” He looks to the new boys who entered, the younger ones. Brantley grins, and it’s the kind of smirk that would disarm the devil.
A couple of the guys share a worried looks between each other, and I could have sworn I saw an Adam’s apple bob every now and then.
“Guess what, boys?” They all look at Brantley. “Looks like you’ll have the honor of having the first Elite King girl in your year group once you actually drop your nuts and get initiated in December.”
“How old is she? How old are they?” If those little shits lied to me…
Brantley laughs, pulling the keys to the padlock out of his pocket. “Sixteen. They have done the first initiation, but they don’t take the second ceremony until December thirty-first, which is when they become official Kings. Since Madison broke history, family had come out to say that they had a daughter and are moving her to Riverside.”
I shake my head, information spilling at the seams, but I drink it up like a thirsty hooker greedy for those tips. “This world is mental.”
“Her name is Bailey, but she’s also called The Raven…”
Interesting. Madison’s ‘gross’ comment makes sense now. “I mean, they look older…”
Brantley rolls his eyes. “You almost fucked a sixteen-year-old. So what.” I’m going to ignore that because it’s Brantley.
“What’s with this Raven chick? Is she going to be a King with them? Or queen, or whatever.”
Brantley turns to face me, his fingers wrapping around my chin. “How have you not figured all this shit out yet, Tillie. You’re fucking smart. Smarter than any girl I’ve ever met.”
“That’s not exactly a compliment, Brantley. You don’t fuck very smart girls.”
“Oh really?” His eyebrow raises, but his half grin is visible.
I ignore it. He continues. “There’s only one queen in this world.”
“Madison.” I nod, already knowing the answer.
Brantley growls in frustration and then presses his index finger to my forehead. “No, not Madison. She’s Bishop’s queen, but that’s all. You are the queen in this world. By right, and by blood.”
What the fuck is he talking about?
He opens the cage door, but the girl is quiet, subdued. He turns to me and gestures to her. “Well, take her back to my house. We’ve still got to do the meet.”
“How? I didn’t drive here. I came with you.”
He shrugs his shoulders, throwing his keys to me. “We’ve got other rides.” I instinctively seek out Nate. Craving his comfort. My insides yearn for him like a bad habit, one that’s worth overdosing on. “He’s gone, Tillie. Stop with the thirsty face.”
I growl, turning around to the girl before spinning back around to Brantley. “Wait!”
He stops, just before he’s about to disappear into the forest. “What?”
“How do I get back?”
He points to the clearing that I came out of. “Just walk straight. It’s not far, obviously.”
I wave him off and then drop down onto my knees to help the girl.
“Sorry. This might hurt.”
I take off the blindfold from her eyes, slowly unraveling it. I toss it across the ground, ignoring the smell of old urine and feces, my attention comes back to her. “Let’s get—” I pause, her eyes. Her eyes are captivating but familiar. “Do I know you?”
She watches me carefully, her bright turquoise eyes searching mine. She sighs and then shakes her head. “No.”
She is downright perfection. I can see why Madison was insecure about her now. Even in this cage, muddy and stinking of piss, she looks like she’s walked straight off a Victoria Secret runway.
“But before, you said my name?”
She seems to be looking for something on my face. Or tossing up whether she should be honest with me right now or lie. “I heard The Kings talk about you, that’s all…”
I get the feeling that she’s lying, but right now isn’t the time to press for truths. I take her hand after untying the binds around her ankles. “Let’s get you home.”
“Oh, I can’t. My mom and dad, they…”
I shake my head. “Your—whoever Brantley is to you— is taking you.”
“Brantley is my first cousin, and why would he do that? He gives me the creeps.”
I hook my arm around hers and start leading us in the direction of where Brantley said. “You and me both, sister. You and me both.”
We’re trekking through the fallen branches when I hear something rustle to the side.
“Shh,” I say, stopping Bailey’s movements. She wasn’t talking, but at least she’s smart enough not to make more noise by pointing that out. “Huh.” I shrug as we start moving through the trees again. The wind picks up, kicking my hair all over my face and chills spit through me. “If we could hurry up, that’d be great.”
A loud banging claps through the air, causing me to jump. I swear, my head is so dramatic. Bailey doesn’t move as if nothing frightens her. The loud bang sounds out again, and I look to the right in the direction it’s coming from.
“Let’s just go…” Bailey says, urging me toward the opposite direction.
Bang! It’s like a door slamming open and shut relentlessly.
“Seriously,” Bailey brushes me off. “It’s probably just a barn or something.”
Before I can contest what she’s saying, my feet are carrying me toward the sound.
Bang!
Bang!
I speed up, breaking out into a jog with Bailey being dragged behind me.
The sound gets closer, my heart beating faster as sweat oozes down my head. There’s a small clearing, so I shove the branches away, reaching for my phone and turning the light on.
I point it toward the noise and then freeze. The rusted wooden door, the steps leading up to it. The aluminum roof that provides it little shelter.
This was the small shack Daemon drew in his book.
“What?” I gasp, my head tilting to get a better look.
“Tillie, we should leave this place,” Bailey says, her eyes flying around the area. I understand her fear. I don’t blame her. What with being locked up in a cage for however long, awaiting her fate.
“It’s okay. I’ve seen this place before…” I take a step forward, the damp leaves rustling under the sole of my shoe. The wind whistles a sweet lullaby that sings through the strands of my hair, but like an interrupted record, it suddenly stops at the touch of Bailey’s hand on my arm.
I turn to face her. “What?”
She’s looking at me with fear, but her eyes frantically go over my shoulder and to the cabin. “We need to leave, Tillie.”
My eyes narrow, my suspicions about just how much this girl knows growing a little stronger the longer that I’m in her presence. I rip my arm out of her grasp and turn back to face the cabin. It’s not livable, it’s barely still standing against the wind. I start taking more tentative steps forward, looking around the yard. There’s a small tin roof that leads off to an old garage, but that wasn’t in the book. There’s a well in the front with an aged splintered bucket dangling from damp rope. My attention snaps to the front door when a dark shadow zips past in a flash.
“Tillie!” Bailey yells, but it’s too late.
I zip forward and run straight for the steps, taking them two at a time with my heart thundering in my chest. Ignoring the protesting stairs and old porch wood, I kick open the door that has been slamming open and shut and stand at the threshold, every single inch of myself is saying to run and that I do not belong in this place, but my rebellious side is disputing my logical side. I slide my finger into the small hole where the door handle u
sed to be. Lightning starts flashing above me from the skies, thunder clapping angrily, as if it’s remonstrating my being here.
“Hello?” I say, pushing the door open even more.
I feel like a fucking idiot—you know, the kind that asks hello after walking into a place they shouldn’t be walking into. It’s usually a couple of minutes before they get murdered, too. I shine the spotlight of my phone into the sitting room and gasp, my knees shaking, threatening to give way. A torn up single lounge chair is seated in front of an old fireplace. There’s foam spilling out of the split seams, illustrating the lack of usage. It’s the exact same chair in Daemon’s book. My eyes catch the fireplace since there seems to be nothing else in here where furnishing is concerned. It’s dark, like a cemented block of blackboard plastered against the frame of a fireplace, but I find myself squinting in an attempt to get a better look. Something flickers inside of it, too small to have me think maybe I imagined it, but big enough to catch my attention. It floats up, and it’s then that I realize it’s a firefly. How peculiar, to have a firefly here, in this weather. It flutters again, enough for its light to hit the right angle. The curve of something penetrates the light of the bug, and when I take a small step closer, I almost think—
“Who is there?”
I take another step forward, but a hand slams over my mouth, yanking me back out of the cabin and up against the outside wall. Nate is glaring at me, his hard body up against mine. My eyes go around to look for Bailey, but I can’t see her anywhere.
“Why do I always find you getting into trouble?”
I try to yank my face out of his grip, but he doesn’t budge, only loosens enough for me to answer. “Maybe because you have a bad habit of leaving me alone.”
His eyes flick to the crack of the door. “I don’t fucking want you wandering the fuck around without me—especially when you had orders to go straight to Brantley’s!”
I shove him away. “Well, maybe I don’t fucking take orders from you!”
His body presses into mine farther, his face so close that the tip of his nose touches mine. He growls, “Well maybe you should.”
I straighten my shoulders in defiance. “I will never take orders from you.”
He thrusts into me harder this time, so hard that I can feel the outline of his jean-clad cock pressing itself against me. “Is that a challenge?” I hate that even when I’m angry with him, completely fucking furious, I still want to tear his clothes off. Nate is pure sex and defiance. He’s the feeling of adrenalin roaring through your veins.
“If it was, it wouldn’t be yours for the taking.” Everything in the air shifts as he grips onto my thighs, lifts me up and wraps my legs around his waist. Even though his face is still painted with the mask, I can make out his expressions in the dim darkness. All that’s giving us light is the flashing of dry lightning and the shade of my phone spotlight that is still switched on. It’s going to rain down and I’d rather be in the car when it does.
He moves over me, enough to cause friction over my core. I bite down on my lip to stop from moaning, but it’s a shit attempt because a breathy moan sneaks out.
“Don’t ever get this twisted, Tillie,” he mutters as he swipes my shorts to the side, his finger slipping under my panties and circling inside of me. He puts me back down to my feet before yanking my shorts and panties down—leaving me feeling very exposed and very cold. “I am the only taker when it comes to this.” He picks me back up, my head falling backward and smacking against the cabin wall. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but everything is heightened and all I want to do is run, fuck, and fuck some more. Maybe they were right, and I did take something. Maybe I can blame my feelings on some random drug that I took.
I grab the back of Nate’s neck and smash his lips against mine.
Yeah, I’ll go with that.
His mouth opens as his tongue separates mine, licking my own. I suck his bottom lip into mine and then run my tongue across the rim. His own dives back into my mouth and I feel the silver ball skate over my teeth. Nate tugs on the top of my shirt and yanks it down, exposing my nipples to the cold air. He sucks them into his mouth and then comes back up, the bitter air slashing against them violently at his departure. Unzipping his pants, I bite at his neck, and grip his heavy cock in my hand, rubbing him roughly. I’m angry. I’m needing to be fucked.
“Nate, I need you to fuck yourself out of my system,” I say, as he slams himself inside of me. I scream as his fist grips my hair.
“No can do. I’m here to fucking stay. Who owns you?”
I don’t answer, wrapping my arm around his neck as he slows his pace and vigorously thrusts his cock inside of me with gentle force, my head smashing against the wall to a silent rhythm.
Slam. “Who fucking owns you, Tillie? Whose cock does this sweet little pussy weep for?”
He flicks my nipple so hard that I scream in pleasure but cry out in pain.
“Answer me.”
He circles his hips, his arm hooking around my back as he pulls out. He spins me around and snaps my back until I’m touching my toes. He enters me from behind and I have to stay on tippy toes to reach his height. His fingers dig into my hips and he pulls me back a little, more obviously so that we’re directly in front of the doorway.
“Who do you think of when you fuck yourself, baby? Who? Who fucking owns this ass and always will?” He thrusts into me slowly now. I feel every inch of him rubbing against me, working me higher and higher. Closer and closer. “Who do you come back to like a good little girl?”
He picks up his pace until he’s relentlessly thrashing me. His fingers dig deeper. I need to let go. I can let go. My core tightens as I hit the very tip of my pleasure. “You’re mine.”
I scream out through my orgasm just as thunder claps through and rain starts to pelt down on the tin roof. “I’m fucking yours!”
He loses it, pulls out and empties himself over my ass. I’m still trying to catch my breath when I feel his hand rubbing his warm cum into my ass cheek. “Mmm, fucking missed this view.” Then he tugs my head backward by my hair roughly with his other hand and brings the same fingers that were rubbing his cum into me to my mouth. “This is what you think about when you fuck yourself, Tillie, and this is why no matter what happens, you will always…” His eyes flick to the inside of the cabin as I suck his cum off his finger. He smirks. “Be mine.”
There’s no awkward silence between us as we drive back home. I think that’s one of the things that I can appreciate about Nate and I is the fact that it’s never “awkward.” “Something’s Gotta Give” by Camilla is playing softly through the speakers. I try to block out the lyrics that are pungently drilling into my ears when he cranks it down a bit.
“Hungry?”
I chuckle, my eyes feeling heavy. Fatigue has settled into my bones. I drop my head to the cool window. “Starving actually.” My thoughts race through all the events that happened tonight, or—I look at the time on the dashboard—last night, since it’s a little after one a.m. I miss Micaela. I’m excited to get home to her, but at the same time, I know that I can’t exactly see her until tomorrow.
Nate pulls into a drive-through joint, one I don’t recognize. “No way!” I look up at the building. The bright red lights flashing up reading Chinese Takeout. My head whips to him. “Since when do they have an all-night Chinese takeout?”
Nate just watches me with fascination. After searching my eyes a few times, he shakes his head and smiles. It’s a genuine smile, one that doesn’t grace the likes of Nate’s lips too often. It almost rattles the gates that contain all of my feelings for him.
Almost. Because then I remember who he is and what he’s like and like an ice bucket of cold water against a hard erection, I shrivel.
“You like Chinese?”
I wriggle up on my seat and turn off the warmer, since my ass is starting to literally feel like it’s on fire and I’m not sure whether it’s a mixture of the sex and the semen, but it doesn�
��t feel too great. “Love. It’s my favorite food. I want to go to China just to eat the food.”
He rolls his eyes and drives us through. “Stop being dramatic, we have this food everywhere.”
“Honey chicken!” I say to him before he has even opened his mouth. “And chicken fried rice and deep-fried prawns—oh and Mongolo—”
“—Tillie?” He glares at me over his arm. My eyes flick over him to the bored—and severely tired—looking teen who is staring at me like I’m a reel of some sappy romance movie.
“Hmmm?”
“Shut up and let me order.”
I sit back, ignoring how my tummy rumbles at the mere thought of food. “Okay.”
We’re sprawled out on my bed in the pool house and I’ve just finished tying my hair into a messy bun and kicked my muddy shoes off when I grab a fork and dig in. “Can I ask you something?” I start, shoving a big bit of deep fried honey chicken into my mouth.
Nate shrugs, sucking the juice off his thumb while still chewing. How can something so normal look stupidly sexy. Oh yeah, because it’s Nate fucking Riverside.
“Did I take something tonight?”
He pauses, picking up some chicken with his fingers and putting it into his mouth. He has no manners. At all. He refuses to even use a fork to eat, and that shouldn’t be sexy, but it is. “I don’t know. I’ll find out.”
My brows pull in. “Where’d you disappear to while I was with Madison? Did you do the meet?”
His eyes don’t meet mine as he continues to eat. “Had business to handle.” His eyes darken, a smirk evidently sprawled out on his face. “And this meet happened. T’was fucking perfect.” He glares at me. “Why? What were you doing when you were with Madison?”
For a second, a very short second, I think that maybe he’s jealous.
Then he laughs, shaking his head. “Whatever, Tillie. You do what you feel like you need to do, as per usual, and I’ll make sure I kill the motherfucker that touches you without my permission, as per usual.”
I want to ask him a hundred questions, and then clarify that we are not a couple, but we’re actually not screaming at each other right now, we have Chinese food to enjoy, and I’m exhausted from the night, so I put that on the list of things to ask about tomorrow.