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Raising a brow I reach for my own beer. “We’re not all built like you and have to have our dicks wet to function. And I don’t think it’s the right time for you to be running that smart ass mouth of yours, do you?”
Amusement creeps onto his face, pulling the corner of his lips. “Talking of mouths, you can ask any chick here and they’ll tell you my mouth is my best asset—aside from my dick…”
“Sure you’re not confusing the two? I mean, you’ve always been a dick so…”
My comment causes Dane to smirk some more, clearly enjoying the show I’m putting on for him. Gold entertainment at my own expense.
“There he is. That feisty brother of mine. I was starting to think we’d lost you for a moment there.”
Against my better judgement my lips lift a fraction, but they fall just as fast before I clench my jaw and snap straight back to business. “Alright… the party can go ahead if it shuts you the fuck up but it’s invite only. I don’t want the whole school thinking they can rock up at the Manor house.”
“Fuck yes. Now that’s what I’m talking about brother…” Elated he’s getting his own way.
“No first years allowed.” I deadpan and his face goes slack. The realization of what I’ve just said hitting him hard.
“But…”
“But nothing. The Braxton Brat isn’t welcome.”
“Come on… it could be a way in.”
Slamming my hand down on the counter I lean over him. “I said what I fucking said. With Matteo out of the picture I make the rules. It’s non-negotiable. You want a party, fucking have a party… but I don’t want to see Phoenix anywhere near this place. She stays in the dungeons, festering alongside the sewer rats where she fucking belongs. Like we fucking agreed.” I press. “Don’t go against me on this, because if you do, I’ll fuck her up in front of everybody. Including you.”
PHOENIX
Two weeks.
It’s been two long ass torturous weeks since the Devil last graced my vision—or my body. I haven’t seen him anywhere. Not in plain sight or dark narrow corridors. I never thought I’d miss being held captive, yet here I am all alone with my thoughts, second guessing if it even fucking happened.
Maybe that’s what he wanted. To use and abuse me before leaving me high and dry. Desperate for more of him. I’ve thought about bringing his name up in conversation, but the thought of asking Flick scares the hell out of me. If I do, that girl is going to try and hose me down with Holy fucking water.
Even I know that won’t help me now. I’m way past being saved. My soul was destroyed years ago, but the less Flick knows about that period of my life, the better.
I’ll admit that sometimes I just lay awake at night reminding myself of my first night. The smell of cedar on hisskin, his hot wet kisses, and the expert movement of his fingers. Sometimes it’s enough for me to finish myself off, but most of the time I can’t bring myself to feel the same pleasure he evoked within me.
What if I did imagine it. What if my previous trauma from years past has finally caught up with me and now, I’m imagining things that didn’t even happen? My starved mind dreaming up crazy shit just for shits and giggles. To me that sounds like the most plausible explanation, however the idea is quickly shut down every time I move throughout the castle because Dane’s name falls from most people’s lips at every possible opportunity—telling me otherwise.
Dane Savage is exactly that. Fucking Savage.
From what I’ve heard here and there when the hushed whispers have become too loud, he’s notorious at Stonebrooke. Alongside his two brothers; Caleb and Cameron. Two who I’ve yet to meet—or maybe avoid.
Flick’s description of them and her endless horror stories does nothing to paint them in a good light, and that should keep me at bay. Truthfully, her stories shouldn’t shock me—not after experiencing some alone time with Dane. If anything, it’s made me curious about his brothers. Are they the same as him. More subdued, or maybe more fucked up.
“Oh shit…”
I jump at the sound of Flick’s voice, panic lacing her tone before her eyes drop down to focus on her plate. Her lunch became interesting all of a sudden.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, not sure if I want to know the answer.
“Keep your head down, and whatever you do… don’t make eye contact.” Her voice is barely a whisper and I just about make out what she’s trying to tell me, her face growing pale. Personally, I made a conscious decision a while ago that I’d refuse to take orders from anyone ever again, so of course my eyes dart around the Great Hall, roaming freely as I scan the many faces around me. Yes, my reaction is set to automatic self-destruct and I’m not going to apologize for it.
The more painful my experiences—the better. That way I know I’m living my life, and it’s not being lived for me. Fucked up, but valid.
My heart stops, flatlining before my lungs collapse as a pair of familiar green eyes stare me down, narrowing in disgust as he tries to get some kind of read on me. I feel naked, completely exposed as his eyes continue to search the darkest depths of my empty soul.
It’s not possible. He can’t fucking be here. The voice in my mind is screaming, telling me it’s not him, but my heart… my wild and uncontrollable heart beats frantically in my chest, and my blood runs cold. My palms grow cold and clammy as he drinks me in, sizing me up like I’m his prey. I should look away but I can’t.
The man of my inescapable nightmares is standing before me and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it.
