by Eva Ashwood
As the bitter winter air slowly began to warm into spring sunshine, we visited Claudio a few more times, and every time we did, I could sense Misael’s walls coming down a little bit more. It wasn’t in his nature to trust, or to believe in pretty words or promises. But Claudio was so steadfast in his insistence that he wanted to make things right, never wavering in that for a second, and I could tell that Misael was slowly beginning to believe.
I was glad.
I may never entirely forgive Claudio, but I couldn’t find it in me to hate him either. Truthfully, he could’ve kept his suspicions to himself, never stepping forward to claim that he was Misael’s father, and no one would’ve been the wiser. The fact that he hadn’t done that went a long way toward proving how much he wanted to be in Misael’s life.
None of the Lost Boys had happy histories, and although my upbringing had been vastly different than theirs, I didn’t exactly have a good one either. It seemed like the universe owed at least one of us a good parent.
A grin crossed my face as I stepped out of the shower, my thoughts turning to our last visit with Claudio. I wiped off the condensation on the glass and ran my fingers through my wet blonde hair. But when I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped into the bedroom to grab fresh clothes, the smile melted from my face.
Poppy was in my room. So was my mother.
They were speaking in low tones as Poppy rifled through a selection of dresses hanging on a garment rack and Mom ran an assessing gaze over each one.
My hands clutched at the towel I wore, my brows drawing together. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“Language, Cordelia,” Mom said sharply. She was dressed elegantly, hair and makeup styled to perfection as usual, even though it was just nine in the morning on a Saturday.
“What are you doing?” I repeated.
“What does it look like?” She blinked up at me, appearing honestly surprised. “I’m choosing a prom dress for you.”
Prom. Fuck.
Despite the number of “prom committee meetings” I’d gone to over the past month, I had completely forgotten that the actual event was coming up.
“I’m not going to prom,” I said shortly, veering toward my closet even as my heart picked up its pace.
“Of course you are, dear. With Barrett. What would it look like if two soon-to-be newlyweds didn’t go to the most important social event at the school all year?”
“It would look like they don’t actually like each other,” I gritted out, wheeling around to face her. I hadn’t spoken to my mother much since the day of my engagement party—the day I’d realized she would take my father’s side over mine every time—but I still vividly remembered our last interaction in this room.
I wanted to leap at her again. I wanted to tear the dresses off the rack and shred them into pretty, colorful ribbons.
Maybe Mom could tell what I was thinking, because something almost like fear flickered in her eyes, as if she were dealing with a rabid animal that might attack at any minute. But she pressed her lips together, taking a dress from Poppy and stepping forward.
“You’re going, Cordelia. This is not open for debate. Your father has been lenient on you lately because he expects you to obey when it matters, and this is one of the times when it matters.”
“Yeah?” I shot back, my anger growing. “Did he tell you that in one of your little heart-to-hearts? Oh wait, I forgot, you still hardly even speak to each other!”
Her nostrils flared wide, and I could see hurt and resentment flash across her face. “What goes on between me and your father is none of your business.”
“Of course not.” I shook my head, a sneer curling my lips. “You’re just my fucking parents.”
“Language!”
Her voice cracked like a whip, silencing me momentarily. She looked furious, and I realized that I’d hit a deeper nerve than I had thought.
She had cheated on my father while he was in prison, but she hadn’t done it for love. She had done it to secure herself some of the creature comforts she missed from when we’d had money. She had done it as a bargaining tool.
Now that my father was back home and we had our wealth and power back, she was by his side again. Maybe she’d even thought they could go back to the way things used to be.
But it was too late. She’d shown her true colors.
She’d shown that she would always put her own self-interests above others. That she would abandon someone the instant that person could no longer help her, and that she didn’t even know the meaning of loyalty.
It’s a shame she and Dad don’t get along anymore. They’re fucking perfect for each other.
That bitter thought filtered through my mind as Mom stepped toward me and thrust the dress into my hands.
“Poppy will help you dress and prepare,” she said stiffly. “Barrett will come pick you up at 7:30. Be ready, or you’ll be grounded until you graduate.”
With that, she turned on her heel and stalked out, leaving Poppy gazing at me with a mixture of awkwardness and pity.
Pick your battles, Cora.
I clenched my jaw, repeating the words over and over in my head. I still had half a mind to shred the dress and tell Mom to go fuck herself. But if I was grounded, I wouldn’t be able to see the boys for weeks. I couldn’t risk that.
“I don’t need your help. I can get ready myself,” I told Poppy, wishing like hell she were Ava. I wanted someone I could trust, someone I could lean on for a little bit of comfort, although not even Ava could’ve helped me out of this mess.
“But, Miss—”
“I’m fine. I’ll tell Mom I sent you away. You won’t get in trouble.”
Indecision warred on her face for a moment, but she finally nodded and slunk out. I tossed the dress on the bed, glaring at the expensive blue fabric with the beaded bodice and ombre skirt. I still had several hours before I needed to put it on, and I wasn’t going to wear it a second longer than necessary.
The dress taunted me all day, and I found myself pacing my room like a trapped animal. I skipped dinner, partly because I had no appetite and partly because I had no desire to see either of my parents. At 7:15, I threw on the dress, piled my hair into a rough updo, and brushed on some lip gloss and mascara. Fuck Mom if she thought I was going to do more than that for this bullshit.
When I couldn’t delay the inevitable anymore, I trotted down the stairs quickly, my heels sounding like gunshots on the polished marble. Barrett was standing in the large entry room talking to my father, and my footsteps slowed at the sight of them. My skin felt cold and clammy, and the soft fabric of my dress suddenly felt scratchy and too-tight.
Keeping my chin raised high, I stalked forward. Barrett was dressed in a bespoke suit that might’ve even made him look handsome—but I couldn’t see any of that anymore. All I saw when I looked at him was the slimy monster underneath.
“Ah, Cordelia. There you are.” My dad turned to me, smiling widely as if any of this was okay. “I hope you two have a wonderful time. Don’t forget to get pictures. And since it’s prom night, I’ll allow you to stay out a bit later.”
I just stared at him, not even able to summon a snarky response to that. Every single word he’d said had been like a dagger in my heart, yet he smiled at me as if expecting the lies he lived by to alter reality.
This wasn’t okay. Nothing would make it okay.
So I didn’t say anything. I just stepped toward the door, not even caring if Barrett followed me or not.
The ride to school was as uncomfortably painful as riding in a hearse—to your own funeral. The driver ignored us, and I ignored Barrett, determined to talk to him as little as possible this evening.
When we arrived at Highland Park, the entire school was lit up, and a red carpet was laid down out front as if this were a movie premiere or something. Girls gathered together in tight groups, exclaiming over each other’s dresses as the guys they’d come with laughed and joked among themselves. We slid fro
m the car, and Barrett tried to take my arm, but I yanked it away.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I hissed.
Irritation flashed in his face, and he looked around quickly to see if we’d drawn any attention. I could see him weighing the pros and cons of forcing the issue, wondering whether it was worth it to make a scene trying to teach me my place.
It wouldn’t be. I’d make sure of that.
The vicious smile that quirked my lips must’ve given away my thoughts, because Barrett let out a low noise of disgust and settled for walking a few inches to one side of me as we entered the school.
The girl I’d been just a year ago might’ve been happy to be here. She might’ve been glad to be seen on the arm of the son of one of the most powerful families in Baltimore. She would’ve been among the groups of girls whispering together, complimenting each other’s dresses, admiring each other’s jewelry.
The girl I was today took one look around and marched toward the drink table, wishing there was something to spike the fucking punch with.
Minutes ticked by as more and more students arrived, and the lights in the gymnasium were dimmed as music blared through the space. Barrett stood awkwardly at my side for a while, casting me glances out of the corners of his eyes every now and then.
Finally, he turned to me. “Would you like to dance?”
I looked over at him slowly, brows pulling together. “No.”
He scoffed, then shook his head. “You think you’re being so tough, saying ‘no, no, no’ over and over? Well, let me break it to you, sweetheart. You’re not. All you’re doing is acting like a fucking baby, whining about how this isn’t what you want.” He turned to face me fully, and he reminded me so much of my father for an instant that I fell back a step. “This is happening. You’re not stopping it by being a fucking bitch every step of the way. I think you know that. So why don’t you climb off your fucking high horse, come to grips with reality, and dance with me. Your parents want pictures, remember?”
He smirked as he said the last bit, and something inside me snapped.
No, not snapped.
Tore.
It was as if someone had taken the two halves of me, the two sides I’d spent the past months trying to reconcile, and physically torn them apart. A deep ache spread through my chest, radiating outward as if the tear in my being had left me bleeding internally.
“You’re wrong.” My voice was so low I could barely hear it over the music, thick with emotion. “You’re so fucking wrong. I will never be yours. You’re a smarmy, greasy, ugly-souled hypocrite who thinks the world owes you more than the wealth and power you were lucky enough to be born into. There are people who love me who would never forgive me for saying this, but I’ll die before I marry you. I fucking mean it.”
My hands shook as I turned on my heel, wanting to get as far away from Barrett as possible. But before I could walk away, he grabbed my wrist.
“What the hell, Cora? You can’t just—”
I yanked my arm free and shoved at his chest, and his eyes flew wide as he caught his balance. I hit him again, my hands curled into fists this time, and several people around us stepped back, their eyes widening.
Barrett’s body tensed, like he was going to retaliate or grab me again. But his gaze flicked around the room, realizing how much attention we’d already drawn, and he slowly took a step back, his eyes burning into mine.
“Get your rebellious phase out of the way now, Cora,” he drawled, a cruel smile curving his lips. “Because the first thing I’m going to do when we get married is teach you some fucking manners.”
A burst of cold fear tried to break through the anger pulsing inside my veins, but I could barely register it. All I saw was red. Turning away from the boy I despised more than almost anyone in the world, I stalked away, scanning the edges of the gymnasium as I looked for someplace quiet and dark to pass the rest of the evening.
My skin prickled, a sudden awareness making my whole body buzz.
I froze, my feet stopping in place so I could inspect the edges of the room more carefully.
My heart beat hard and fast when I recognized the broad frame of the boy with short blond hair who stood just inside one of the doors that led to the courtyard outside.
Kace.
Seventeen
My entire body reacted to the sight of him, and I glanced behind him, searching for the other two Lost Boys. I didn’t see them though. Kace was alone.
What was he doing here?
How much of my fight with Barrett had he seen?
Sudden fear swept through me, and my feet started moving toward him before I even consciously gave them the command. Kace had a bigger heart than almost anyone I knew. But he’d been raised on violence, and he was protective and possessive of the things he loved. If he had seen Barrett grab my wrist, seen him manhandle me like that…
Fuck.
I couldn’t let Kace get into a fight on Highland Park grounds. If shit went down between the two of them, Barrett would get his ass handed to him—but he’d be only too fucking happy to press charges.
I was practically running by the time I reached Kace and threw myself into his arms. He was so solid and big that he didn’t even stagger at the collision, and although he stayed still, I could feel his heart beating hard against mine.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer. I looked up to see his gaze focused over my shoulder, and I was positive he was staring at Barrett.
No. I needed him with me.
Kace had killed a man for me, and I didn’t doubt he would do it again if he had to. But violence wouldn’t help either of us in this situation. It would only make things worse.
So I fought against the violence brewing inside him with the only thing I could think of.
Love.
Rising up onto my tiptoes, I looped one hand around the back of Kace’s neck and pressed my lips to his, relishing how hard he was everywhere—how soft he made me feel. His earthy sage scent crept into my nostrils as his arms wrapped around me and he returned the kiss with wild heat.
Then, before I could even register what was happening, his lips broke apart from mine. I had a horrible certainty that he was about to push past me and stalk toward Barrett like a killing machine. But instead, the world spun around me as I was picked up by the waist and thrown over Kace’s shoulder.
I let out a little yelp as his arm beaded around my thighs, pinning them against him as he began walking toward one of the other doors on the perimeter of the room. He shoved it open, and the lights and sound of the dance faded as it closed behind us. The hallway was dark, and the sound of Kace’s heavy footfalls seemed like drumbeats in the empty corridor.
My cheeks flamed as a rush of heat surged through my body. On the one hand, half my school had just watched this boy throw me over his shoulder and carry me out of the room like a caveman claiming his mate.
On the other hand…
I fucking wanted to be claimed.
My core throbbed as heat pooled in my lower belly. I could feel the flex of Kace’s muscles beneath me as he walked, and the sheer strength and power of his body made me ache for more contact. I wanted to be enveloped by him. Owned by him.
When he finally set me down, I found myself leaning back against a door. My legs wobbled a little, adjusting to supporting my weight as I gazed up at the tall boy before me. His hands rested on the door on either side of my head, and he was staring down at me with an intensity that almost burned, his moss-green eyes seeming darker than usual in the dim light.
He dropped his head, our noses almost brushing as I tilted my own head up. Then he kissed me again, and my whole world narrowed to the connection between us. I was vaguely aware of him doing something with the door handle, but I couldn’t focus on that. Not when his tongue was sliding so insistently against mine, not when I could feel the heat radiating from his body, lighting mine up like a furnace.
Then the door suddenly fell
away from behind me as it swung open. I’d been resting so much of my weight against it that I almost fell over when it opened, but Kace’s arms caught me, holding me tight to him as he walked me backward into the room.
I expected it to be a bathroom. He and I had made something of a habit of fucking in public bathrooms on school grounds, so it only seemed fitting that we would christen one of the bathrooms at Highland Park too.
But when Kace tore his lips from mine and began working them along the line of my jaw and down my neck, I blinked my eyes open and realized I’d been wrong.
We were in the nurse’s office.
It was a small, sterile room with an exam table in the middle and stacks of brochures on the small stand by the door.
Keeping his lips on my skin, Kace urged me backward again, and when my ass bumped into the exam table, he kept moving my upper body backward, dipping me deeply as his hand supported the back of my head. His lips trailed over my chest, along the neckline of my dress, and he made a pleased, animalistic sound in his throat.
It was the closest he’d come to speaking since he’d arrived here.
I groaned, reaching up to grab handfuls of his short blond hair, arching my back even more to encourage his exploration. “Fuck, Kace!”
“I want to kill him, Princess.”
The words were muttered low, spoken against my skin as he devoured me, but I could hear the truth in them. I could feel the truth in his body, in the tension that tightened every one of his muscles.
“Don’t!” I gasped. Forcing my head up, I met his gaze as his lips brushed over the exposed tops of my breasts, staring into his eyes as if I was trying to meld our souls into one. “Please, Kace. He’s not fucking worth it. Stay with me. Show me I’m yours.”
Something shifted in his expression, brutal anger warring with insatiable hunger. His breathing grew harsh, and the hand that roamed my body became rougher, more possessive.