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I sniffle, unable to move my eyes away from his. Like a stupid moth to a flame. A moth that will no doubt crash into the flame and crumble into ash. “Because I’ll enjoy ruining your life.” I swallow as he climbs off me. Walking to my door and slamming it in his wake.
I know one of the reasons why he hates me, and I won’t apologize for ratting him out about Gerry. It was the right thing to do. If I am on his radar now, so be it. I crawl out of my bed and make my way to Monroe’s room, but she isn’t there. Figures. So instead, I walked to Satan's room.
“Jasmine.” Ezra smiles. If any of us were messed up, it was her. Her soul is tainted. Stained in sin and blood.
“I need some help,” I say quietly, sitting on her bed.
She crosses her arms over her chest, looking me up and down. “And how am I supposed to help you with that, Jazzy?”
Ezra is beautiful. With cold eyes and ivory skin. Long, wavy blonde hair and freckles that dance across her nose. Pouty pink lips. She is like a mirror, pretty to look at but would cut you if you broke it.
“I need to be tougher.”
Ezra laughs. “I can’t make you tougher.”
She pushes me out of her room as I hang my head. Don’t cry. Do not cry. How did I come from the parents that I did and still not become a badass?
I go back to my room and think about when I can escape back to Africa.
Where I can escape back to him.
CHAPTER 2
JASMINE
18 YEARS OLD
Senior Year
“You got it or what, Andrews? I don’t have all day for your nerdy ass,” Axel King, motorcycle club prince of the Rebel MC, says as he sits on his motorcycle. Dark, distressed jeans with rips in the knees. A black, tight shirt that hugs his sculpted muscles, and a leather jacket with a skull and some kind of name on it. His hair is coal black, but not like mine. No, it actually looks good on him. He has stubble decorating his strong jaw, sunglasses sitting on his straight nose, hiding his eyes. We’re in an abandoned alley on the wrong side of town.
“Here.” I hand the wrapped package over, then he hands me an envelope. His veiny hands covered in ink reluctantly letting it go. Cash—that I have to give to my dad, but I also get a cut of. The cut I hide in my secret spot for when I flee.
He blows smoke from his cigarette, the smoke fogging my vision and blurring my eyes. I cough, waving the thick cloud away. He laughs, it’s rough like gravel. He tucks the package into his jacket.
“You know,” he says slowly. “If you’d take off those god-awful clothes that hide everything you're packing, you’d be hot.”
I blush and then frown. It’s a backhanded compliment at best. “You know,” I draw out. “If you stop doing illegal things, you might be able to stay out of juvie.” I smile sweetly at him, and he chuckles.
“Touché, nerdy girl. See you next time?” he asks, voice wrapping around me like silk. God, he is hot. If I were to sin, it would be all over Axel King.
“Yep.” I pop the P before turning on my heel, when his voice stops me.
“You know, if you ever want to let loose, or get that stick up your ass removed, I can help.” I snort and open my car door just as I hear the roar of a motorcycle start up.
I start my first day of senior year tomorrow. I’ve managed to avoid Easton all summer. First, by going to Africa and meeting him again. And then, by hiding in my room and enjoying the many lives I’ve lived through books. Sighing, I pull through the gates of our road. Parking my car on the first house on the left. Right next to the Davenports. Climbing out, I walk inside, taking in all the black, gold, and emerald green decor. My dad smiles but I slam the envelope of cash into his strong chest and walk off. I don’t get along with my parents. They aren’t bad people—to me, anyway. But I’m just not anything like them. Tradition or not, I believe I should be in charge of my own future. Make my own dreams.
I sigh, slamming my face into my bed.
One more year.
EASTON
“Go faster,” I growl as Maxine’s head bobs up and down on my dick. Her red hair has a slight layer of sweat. I curse as I feel my dick getting softer. Fucking Jasmine. This shit has been happening since she came back. It’s like my dick hasn’t gotten the memo that she’s off-limits.
I help Maxine off her knees as I tuck myself in. “Sorry, doll. I’m not feeling too well.” I give her my best smile. The one I’ve perfected. The one that will represent the BurBay Banks.
She wipes her mouth. “That’s okay. Maybe next time?” she asks, a sweet smile painted on her lips. We both know she also perfected that smile, because she is anything but sweet.
