Page 55 of Cruel Hearts

Orlando paused at the door, his fingers hovering on the handle. “Good night, sweet princess. I’ll let myself out.”

He pulled it open, stepped out into the hallway, and blew me a kiss.

The door clicked shut, and his footsteps echoed on the floor. They continued down the stone staircase. A moment later, the front door opened and shut.

I rushed to my balcony window and stood behind the net curtains. Orlando’s shadowed figure descended the entrance steps and walked across the courtyard. When he reached the gates, he turned around and glanced up.

A jolt of surprise had me ducking out of view. I couldn’t stand the thought of him seeing me gape after him like he was the last dick in Templar.

“Damn,” I muttered. “He really meant what he said earlier.”

If I could be wrong about Orlando, was I also wrong about the level of Maxwell’s remorse?

Chapter 20

I didn’t get much sleep that night. Orlando had dropped a handful of coal on the fires of my libido, and they cried out for more. More tongue, more cock, more of that gorgeous, hard body and most of all, more fucking.

My eyes snapped open, and I glowered at the pale streams of morning light peeking through my net curtains. Why couldn’t I be more like Elizabeth? Revenge would be so much easier if I didn’t fancy those assholes so much. If they hadn’t awoken a desire for sex with two men. Memories of two sets of hands delving into the holes of my catsuit drifted to the front of my mind, as did the urge to handcuff a knight to the bed and ride him to satisfaction.

A knock on the door broke me out of my fantasy. “Lilah,” said Mr. Burgh. “Are you in there?”

Pushing those thoughts aside, I swung my legs out of bed and headed for the bathroom. “I’m airing out my room in the academy. It still smells like dogs.”

“Don’t be late for breakfast,” he said through the door.

“Alright.” I stepped into the white-tiled room, turned on the shower and stood back as the water went from lukewarm to steaming.

I stared into the mirror and brushed my teeth. Maxwell and Orlando claimed they were sorry, but it wasn’t enough. If I didn’t want to stab them in the back, I had to at least make them grovel. But my biggest worry right now was evening things out with Elizabeth. She had to know that nobody crossed Lilah Hancock. Not if they wanted to live.

The warm spray washed away thoughts of Maxwell, Kendrick, Orlando, and his magic tongue. I closed my eyes and washed my hair. That curry mix was the key to it all, but I couldn’t see Elizabeth or those younger boys leaving it lying around for anyone to pinch. Unless someone staged a distraction at the next cooking club, and we snuck back into the kitchen to steal it.

After dressing, I took the short walk through the snow to the academy, clutching my portfolio for Art and Design. It was my second day back to school and people still wouldn’t stop giggling and staring in the hallway. A stupid first year had accused me of lying about being mauled by a pack of police dogs, and I told him to fuck off. Did they really think I would start rumors about myself?

“I thought I smelled something rancid,” said a voice from behind.

A quick glance over my shoulder found Elizabeth trailing after me with Myra, the tawny-haired witch, hovering at her side.

I curled my lip. “The next time you try to kiss me with that foul breath, I’m calling the police.”

Myra scoffed. “No one wants to kiss your diseased lips, hand-job.”

“Have you looked in the mirror?” I waved a finger over her attempt to make her lips fuller with a thick, red liner. “You look like you’ve just sucked a baboon’s ass.”

Myra dipped her head and placed a hand over her mouth. Elizabeth’s lips quirked into a smile. “How many asses did you suck in custody? I heard they put you in with a prostitute who helped you hone your skills.”

The undercover policewoman who wanted me to spill my guts about Billy Hancock’s purpose for visiting Scotland. Pushing aside Elizabeth’s stupid comment, I drew my brows together. “Did anyone match your fingerprints to the bag of crap you left in my room?”

Her cheeks reddened. “That’s slander.”

“Is it?” I stepped into her personal space. Myra’s shoulders rose, looking like she was ready to step in if the disagreement turned physical. Some of the students moving from class to class paused to take in the spectacle.

Speaking loud and clearly enough for everyone to hear, I said, “There’s going to be an investigation.”

“No one would listen to you,” she sneered.

An idea dropped into my mind. Another way to get back at a girl who never got punished. “I’ve filed a complaint with the independent body that monitors the police.”

Gasps filled the hallway, and warm satisfaction filled my chest.