“Sleep tight and have an erotic dream where I’m eating your tight little pussy for dinner, baby.” I peek through my car window. “Or filling it with my cum. Either would do.”
Glyndon comes to a halt and searches our surroundings for possible eavesdroppers, then glares at me.
I love it when she glares. It’s my Glyndon’s love language.
And because I love it, I push, “Unless you changed your mind and would rather spend the night in my bed, which is five stars, highly recommended?”
“Dream on.”
“I told you my dreams are much darker and kinkier than reality. So if you’re down to explore more of your sexuality, I’m game.”
She spins around and faces me. Her cheeks are red and her honey-colored hair flies in the wind. Now, I don’t know what angels look like and probably never will—thank fuck I have a designated place in hell—but she’s the closest thing to an angel I’ve ever seen.
My own angel.
Glyndon stares at me with the crookedness of an amateur detective. “Did you do that a lot? Explore your sexuality, I mean?”
“Why are you asking?”
“I’m just curious.”
“If you mean did I go to sex clubs and try kinks, then yeah, I did.”
She steps closer like a curious kitten. “What did you try?”
“Ropes, chains, canes, gags, bondage, breath play, knife play, impact play, D/s, S/M, objectification, electrostimulation—you name it.”
Her lips part and I wave. “Hello? Earth to my little rabbit.”
“Wow,” she finally breathes out. “I don’t even know what half of those mean.”
“Which ones? I’ll happily explain.”
“No, thanks. You’ll probably end up trying them on me.”
“Not if you’re not interested.”
“Are you serious?”
“You really need to quit the habit of questioning everything I say.”
She shifts from one foot to the other. “I’m just surprised you’d willingly forgo the chance of trying those kinks on me.”
“I don’t need kinks when I’m with you.”
She pauses.
I pause.
The whole world fucking pauses.
That’s right. I don’t.
“Really…?” she trails off when she realizes she’s repeating the fucking habit, then blurts, “I mean, why not? You obviously enjoyed them.”
“I’m not sure I actually did enjoy them. I only went to those lengths because normal sex wasn’t providing me the stimulation I needed.”
“And…I do?”
“You do. Now, stop grinning like an idiot.”
She flips her hair back, still smiling. “You must be so into me, huh?”
“Who’s the arrogant one now?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were the only one who was allowed the privilege.”
“You were an innocent little virgin not too long ago, remember? If I didn’t acquaint you with eroticism, you wouldn’t know what that word means.”
“You still want me more than all the kinks and sex clubs.”
“Looks like I created a monster. Maybe we should explore your sexuality, after all.”
“Exploring my sexuality means sleeping around, hooking up. You know, the casual kinky sex you had but I didn’t get the chance to try.”
My smirk disappears. “If you’re up for fucking in their blood, then sure thing. You have the green light to pick some poor souls.”
“You honestly would do that, wouldn’t you?”
“I’ll also take pictures of the whole thing and show you them after a romantic dinner so you think twice before entertaining the idea of another dick—or pussy.”
“So you get to sleep around and I don’t.”
“You’re the only one I sleep with.”
“I’m talking about before.”
“Before is in the before. You don’t see me going around, hunting your kindergarten crush or high school sweetheart. I could, but I probably won’t.”
“Probably?” she says with enough incredulousness to write a book about it.
“Since I’m actually your first, I don’t hold a lot of grudge against them. I might find their names, slash their tires, and cause a little discomfort in their lives, like hiding their keys and busting their windows. Small-time felonies for small-dicked simpletons.”
“I’ll have you know that my secondary school boyfriend had a huge dick.”
“You said that to piss me off, didn’t you?”
She raises a brow. “Is it working?”
This little fucking witch is learning faster than should be allowed. I will go ahead and say that I fully expected her to run for the hills when I admitted that I liked to kill yesterday.
And I was ready to chase her the fuck down, tie her to my bed, and evidently cause her to add more hate to my dedicated section in her head.
So imagine my fucking surprise when she stayed. She was scared shitless, trembled with it, almost threw up because of it, but she stayed.
However, she did something a lot more interesting than staying.
Glyndon actually listened.
She asked questions, too, and was completely in the moment with me.
She wanted to know that side of me and refused the masks the whole world—my parents included—are comfortable with. Glyndon motherfucking King said she wanted the truth and meant it this time.
“Is it true?” I ask instead of answering her question. “Have you seen his presumptuously huge dick?”
“Yeah. I was a virgin, but not completely inexperienced. I fooled around.”
“Hmm. I’m gonna need a name.”
“Glyndon King.” She offers me her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
I glare at her hand, then at her face. “Is this supposed to be sarcasm?”
“Are you supposed to be this rude?” She grabs my hand and shakes it. “There, see how easy it is to actually be nice?”
I pull her by my hold on her hand and she yelps as she crashes against the side of the car.
“Easy there, cowboy,” she says in a breathless voice.
“Don’t be a flirt, and don’t fuck with me, Glyndon. What’s the sorry fuck’s name?”
“Did you know that you have, like, beautiful flecks of black in your blue eyes? It’s a genetic masterpiece.”
“You’re stalling.”
“And you’re supposed to be gone. Two more minutes and the stern dorm director will come to chase you away with a broom.”
“A name. Last time I ask.”
“Just stop it, Killian.” She’s half-exasperated, half-resigned. “You can’t simply hunt down all the men from my past.”
“And your present and future combined. But we’ll start with the supposedly big dick guy. Sorry, I mean huge.”
“He took some time off to volunteer in human rights organizations in Africa.”
“You even keep up with his life. Go on, give me more reasons to engrave him on my shit list.”
She laughs a little. “You’re impossible. Do you know that?”
“Of course I do. That sentence is your everyday mantra.”
“You’re the one who said the past is in the past. I should be the one offended with your countless girlfriends, fuck buddies, and kinks, not the other way around.”
“I never had a girlfriend. Until you, of course. Though I prefer the terms my girl, my woman, mine that you still haven’t voiced, by the way.”
Her cheeks splash in red. “What about Cherry?”
“Cherry was a warm hole. Holes, to be more specific.”
“You’re disgusting.” She slips her hand from mine.
“She’s a cheater and an impulsive anarchist who’s addicted to more drugs than rock stars. Also, aren’t you jealous of her?”
“Whatever my feelings about her are, you shouldn’t speak that way about women. We’re more than just holes for your entertainment.”
“Aren’t you a little feminist?”
“Don’t put labels on me when you hate them yourself. Now, goodnight. Actually, no good night to you.”
She turns to leave, but I catch her wrist and tug her until she slams back against the door. “You don’t have to be difficult about everything, Glyndon. It’s starting to be tiresome, repetitive, and irritating.”
“Then let me go,” she deadpans, her eyes igniting with a challenge.
“You still on that? Guess I haven’t punished you enough.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, baby. You know that foul little mouth gets me hard.”
I expect her to throw out one of her tasteless prude comments, but all expressions vanish from her face as she leans over, levels her face with mine, and whispers, “Then stay hard.”
And then she swiftly pulls her hand away and walks to the door of her dorm with a seductive sway to her hips.
Did she just do that?
Yes, she fucking did, and I’m harder than earlier.
She probably didn’t think that I could climb up to her window and teach her a lesson or two.
My phone vibrates with a text.
Glyndon: Don’t even think about climbing up to my window. I’ll be sleeping sandwiched between Ava and Cecily tonight.
A smile grazes my lips. My Glyndon is indeed a fast learner. If anyone else was starting to read me this effortlessly, I’d punch them to the next planet.
With Glyndon, I don’t mind.
I know. I shocked myself with that piece of information before I could admit it to myself.
Killian: You’re talking as if that would stop me.
Glyndon: Don’t you dare.
Killian: Not unless you say you’ll dream of sucking my cock.
Glyndon: I’ll try to dream of sucking your cock until you deep-throat me and I gag on it. Happy now?
Fuck. I nearly come in my pants from her rare dirty talk.
Killian: Should’ve asked you to say you’re mine.
Glyndon: Not in a million years.
I tap my index finger against the back of the phone, feeling the tendons of my jaw clenching.
This side of her makes me want to commit fucking murder.
My phone lights up again, and I think it’s her, but it’s from the Heathens’ group chat.
Nikolai: I say, Killer’s obsession with Glyn is tugging on my nonexistent heartstrings. Think he’ll let me fuck her once he’s done?
Killian: Go fuck a corpse, and while you’re at it, turn into one before I find you.
Nikolai: Yo, motherfucker, didn’t you block me?
Jeremy: He unblocked you to see you going rogue and getting yourself into trouble. RIP, asshole.
Nikolai: What’s with the fucking RIP? Killer has the attention span of a mosquito and he’ll let her go before exams start. What’s wrong with me getting leftovers? I’m doing it for a very important reason. Cross my heart and hope to die, cousin.
Killian: The only leftover you’ll get is your balls after I shove them down your throat. I’m serious, fucking drop it.
Nikolai: Whoa. Hold on. Did you just threaten my balls with murder for pussy? Who are you and what have you done with our Satan’s heir?
Gareth: Stop it, Niko. It’s different this time.
I want to go at my brother’s throat, too, but that would just fuck up my mood, so I slip my phone into my pocket and drive out of REU.
A few seconds after I’m out of the main gate, something feels off.
A car is following me.
No, two.
Five.
Fuck.
I swerve to the right and drive down the dirt road, but I’m only a few seconds in when blinding light hits me in the face.
A car—or something bigger, a truck—is speeding straight in my direction with their blinding headlights on. I don’t attempt to avoid it because I’d crash into the other cars.
I don’t try to lessen the blow, I even step on the gas.
You want crazy? I’ll give you fucking crazy.
The last thing I hear is a loud crash and the sound of the airbag when it smashes my head back.
Hot liquid slips down my forehead as my neck remains lolled in a backward position.
I’m not sure if I’m conscious, unconscious, or in between, but I can feel a sharp sting as I’m wrenched out of the car.
A very familiar, very annoying voice rings in the air. “Your seven days are up, motherfucker.”
Underground-like noise rings in my ears and shadowy figures fly behind my orange-lined lids.
I slowly open them and a sudden throb slashes through my skull.
Motherfucker.
I haven’t experienced this type of pain since a group of losers ganged up on me back in high school.
Only, this time, my head feels heavier and I’m having trouble focusing. Is it a concussion?
I’m almost sure there was no blunt force trauma during the accident since the crash wasn’t that strong and the airbag protected my head.
Though it could’ve happened after.
Red dots line my vision as I shake my head to chase away the blurriness. I lift my hand to clutch my temples, but they won’t move.
I stare down, and sure enough, both my wrists are bound behind my back and my legs are strapped to the legs of the metal chair I’m in.
Fucking perfect.
Judging by the charcoal-colored walls and the bright neon lights, this is the underground.
My first bet would logically be the Serpents. They have a bone to pick with us, and Jeremy has been hitting them where it hurts for years. As a result, their retaliation was a matter of when, not if.
Assaulting and kidnapping me seems legit and predictable.
But that would only apply if I’d been kidnapped within TKU or if the chase had happened close to our compounds.
REU might be full of posh folks who worship the queen’s pristine shoes, but they have their own club. And Serpent or not, they’d be vulnerable here.
It’s not their territory.
It’s Elites’ grounds.
And I happen to have pissed off one of them, unintentionally—or maybe intentionally, considering all the couple shots I’ve become a fan of posting on social media lately.
The last picture I posted is of Glyndon sleeping on my lap, her face hidden by my naked chest and only half of mine visible. She’s wearing shorts and a red tank top and her arms are wrapped around my middle.
She wears red for me.
That could and would anger him. Which is one of the reasons I posted it, not the main one, though. That would be my constant need to stake a claim on the little rabbit.
Sure enough, when the door opens, the one who strides inside, dressed all in black with a golf club resting on his shoulder, is none other than Landon.
Usually, the Elites put on white and gold masquerade masks during rivals’ week, but he obviously thinks that detail isn’t needed in this situation.
He wants me to know he’s the one behind this.
It’s personal.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he says casually. “I hope you had a good one, because you might not be able to sleep for a while.”
“Oh my, I’m shaking.” I mirror his tone. “Is this the part where I start to cry?”
“I know you can’t, but thanks for the effort.” He glances over his shoulder. “Do we have the water?”
“Enough to drown an elephant.”
Now, this is a surprise.
The owner of the last line is none other than Eli King. He’s about the same height as Landon, dressed in denim, and is currently dragging a giant hose.
Upon seeing me, he pauses, but his expression remains the same. “It’s nothing personal, Kill. Just family business.”
“I’m wounded. I thought we shared a connection.”
He props an elbow on Landon’s shoulder. “Not more than the one I share with this one. Imagine if I let him loose? Jesus. We’d have a massacre on our hands. Got to play my role as the eldest King and put him on some sort of leash. Besides, you ghosted me, Killer. Damn near cried myself to sleep when we were kids.”
“Aww.” I match his mocking voice. “I’d never do that. Your parents and my parents are annoyingly smart and figured out early on that we shouldn’t mingle or they’d have bloodbaths to clean up. Plural. If it’s of any consolation, I missed you.”
“Missed you, too, little Kill. But don’t go changing lanes after you f—touched my cousin.” Eli raises a brow. “She’d cry.”
“Are you done with whatever fucked-up shit you’re on?” Landon glares at the both of us, probably blindsided by my acquaintance with his cousin.
Eli and I met when we were young, when his parents visited mine in the States. I was around six that time and he was twelve, and even though we were practically strangers, it was the first time I found someone whose look mirrored mine.
That encounter was fascinating and irritating. I ended up beating his brother, Creighton, up just to rile him, and he would’ve ripped me a new one if Gareth, righteous golden boy Gareth, hadn’t intervened.
Fun times.
Just when I think all the players are here, a third person walks inside wearing jogging clothes. No kidding. Creighton appears as if he stumbled upon the place by chance.
Eli releases Landon and frowns at his brother. “What are you doing here?”
“Last I checked, I’m part of the King family.” That’s genuinely the most I’ve heard the emo fuck say. He usually stands at the corner of the table, spoken to but never replies, and is constantly bugged by both Remington and Annika.
A fact I’m intentionally keeping from Jeremy until further notice.
That notice is now.
He’ll regret messing with me when Jeremy uses his blood as his room’s wallpaper.
Besides, I’ve done my research on Glyndon’s family, and the seemingly docile, pretty boy actually has dark tastes no one is aware of.
Except for maybe Eli.
“I called him over,” Landon says without breaking eye contact with me.
“Then maybe I should call Brandon over, too,” Eli announces.
“If you want him to personally report us, then by all means.”
“I must say, I’m touched. You gathered almost the entire King clan just for me. If I’d known there would be a welcome-to-the-family ceremony, I would’ve put on my tux.”
Landon rolls his neck until the bones crack. “You think I’m playing?”
“I know you’re not. But don’t you think this is too extreme for the occasion?”
“Not as extreme as you sleeping with my sister when I clearly told you not to.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I needed permission from anyone about the status of our growing relationship.”
“Now, you do.”
“What are your demands, Your Majesty?”
“No demands, just torture.” He nods at Eli and he directs the high-pressure water straight in my face.
I was ready for it since they showcased their weapon of choice, but actually being blinded by water and breathing it instead of air is different in a practical sense.
The force physically jerks my head back and someone holds my shoulders from behind, keeping me in place.
My lungs burn and I swallow more water than I can handle. The spasms in my limbs increase in intensity until they’re close to seizure level.
It’s fucking irritating when my physical being chooses to fail my mind.
Just when I think I’ll faint, the flow stops. I cough, spluttering on all the water and dragging it and air in through my mouth.
My hair and clothes are soaked, the droplets forming a pool on the ground.
Once I’ve gotten enough air, I burst out laughing. “That’s all you got? What are you? A fucking amateur?”
“I wouldn’t provoke him if I were you.” Eli speaks in a tone that I would believe intends good if I didn’t already know that the motherfucker left his soul in his mother’s womb and was miraculously born without one.
“If you’re going to torture me, do it properly and draw some blood. This isn’t some kid’s game.”
Creighton—who was the one grabbing my shoulders all this time—releases me and stalks to the door without a word.
“Where are you going, punk?” Eli asks.
“Out. I’m bored.” And then he leaves as if he was never there.
“Fucker needs his head checked,” Eli says with fake sympathy.
“Shouldn’t you set an example and do it first, E?” I taunt with a grin.
He merely stares at me blankly.
“Here’s how it will go.” Landon drags his club on the ground, creating a screeching, annoying sensory sound, and keeps the rhythm as he speaks. “Once we’re done with our little get-together here, you’re going to nurse your wounds, then text my baby sis that you no longer want her, and you’ll be brutal about it. I want you to make her hate you so it’ll be easier for her to forget you.”
“Question.” I interrupt in a super-serious tone. “I would’ve raised my hand, but they’re bound. Unless you want to change that?” When he keeps dragging his golf club on the ground, I continue. “Doesn’t hurt to ask. So my question is, would that plan work if she already hates me?”
“That’s a damn good question,” Eli agrees.
“Thanks, man.”
“Doesn’t matter what she feels for you now. I’ll make sure she leaves you behind. And I will personally choose the next man in her life.”
For the first time since this whole charade started, I want to bash Landon’s skull with his golf club and watch his brains splatter on the walls.
This motherfucker can hurt me all he wants, but giving Glyndon to someone else is where his life starts to be in jeopardy.
“You mean someone you can manipulate?” I smirk. “Let me guess, you personally approved of all her previous boring boyfriends, probably threatened them not to touch her either. Hmm, I don’t think she’ll react well to that information.”
“Not sure she’d care about that when she learns what you did at your old school.”
My smirk remains in place, but it falters for a bit and it’s Landon’s turn to smirk. “That’s right, I did my research and even fucked the skeletons in your closet. A bit dry, but they’d do. Not sure our little princess would like them that much. Isn’t that right, Eli?”
“I’m inclined to agree. Our Glyn was always a scaredy-cat, never liked skeletons.”
“Or hypocrites.”
“Or you.” I grin.
“The fuck did you just say?”
“Your own brother and sister don’t even like you, so you fill that emptiness with sculptures and this whole bullshit. Very sad.”
He swings his club and hits me across the face. Eli opens the water, and this time, I swing and fall backward.
The loud thud echoes in the air as my body hits the ground.
My vision blackens from the lack of air as cold water drenches me whole.
Ah, fuck.
I’m going to lose consciousness. Or worse, maybe die.
People say their life flashes before their eyes in the last moments, but that’s not what happens.
My life isn’t what I see.
It’s Glyndon smiling. I always liked her sweet little smile, probably because it was rarely ever directed at me.
She’s smiling at me now, calling my name, but I can’t hear her.
A commotion snaps me from the image that I was enjoying.
The water stops and I twist onto my side, coughing and inhaling air as if through small straws.
“What is wrong with you?” Brandon pushes at Eli’s chest. “How can you help him with this?”
“He asked nicely?” Eli says casually.
“Stop it!”
My blood roars in my ears at the sound of her voice. Glyndon.
From my blurry vision, I can make out her silhouette getting in Landon’s face.
“I told him to stay away, he didn’t listen, so I’m just teaching him a valuable lesson here, little princess.”
“And who the hell are you to teach people lessons? Do you really consider yourself a god? News flash, you’re not.”
“He’s manipulating you and will eventually hurt you.”
“That’s still nothing for you to concern yourself with.”
“You don’t know what’s good for you, Glyn.”
“I’m old enough to make my own life choices and I’m choosing this, Lan. I’m finally choosing someone myself, without them having to go through your approval process. Can’t you let me have that?”
Can I kiss her and not die? Actually, I’m fine with dying for this kiss.
“No,” Landon says dismissively. “Now, take Bran and leave.”
“No.”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“I said no, Lan. Fucking no. I’m sick and tired of your controlling ways and tiptoeing around you and avoiding you. I’m so damn tired. Just stop. Stop being so out of line, stop making us scared of you. We aren’t supposed to be scared of our own brother.”
“Glyn…” Bran comes to her side, trying to pull her back, but my fucking girl slips away from his hold.
“No, we’re doing this, Bran.”
“That’s my ticket out.” Eli waves. “Happy family meeting, Kings.”
Bran softens his voice. “Glyn, this isn’t the right time.”
“And when is the right time? For how long are we supposed to take this from him? This is about as right a time as any to tell him we’re through pretending to like him in front of Mum and Dad. We’re through covering his actions and making him appear to be a perfect genius when he’s nothing more than an unfeeling person. You’re supposed to be on our side, not against us, Lan. We’re family, not enemies. Bran is your twin brother, not your competition. I’m your sister, not your damn property.”
“Is the word vomit done?” Landon’s expression doesn’t change, but he sounds edgy.
That’s right. I pushed straight where it hurts.
I told him his siblings don’t like him and he’s now seeing the proof.
“No,” Glyndon says. “You’ll let Killian go and stop meddling in my business.”
“And if I say no?”
“I’ll tell Grandpa, Papa, and Uncle. When they find out about all your actions, they’ll put you on a leash.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Just like you threatened us all our lives. Tastes bitter coming from your family, doesn’t it?” Then she runs toward me and I think I let go then.
She’s here.
It’s all good now.
“Killian! Kill! Open your eyes…” She lifts my head on her lap, fawning over me with worry dripping from her every word and touch.
She’s really my custom-made angel, my Glyndon.
As she holds me, I meet Landon’s gaze and smirk.
I knew Bran would come, because Eli doesn’t like Creighton involved, and since Landon twisted his arm, he’d definitely bring in Brandon as a form of retaliation.
As soon as Creighton appeared, Eli fished out his phone and typed something—probably a text to Brandon to inform him of the current situation.
If he knew I was here, he would surely bring Glyndon.
I could’ve escaped earlier by using the Zippo in my back pocket, but I already knew Landon would get me sooner or later.
The moment I saw Eli’s discreet anger in seeing Creighton involved, I plotted this.
This scene had to happen.
If Glyndon saw her brother torture me, she’d definitely be on my side, not his. She’d sympathize with me, hate her brother, and would want to save me.
Her standing up to him and getting all that baggage off her chest was only a bonus.
Happy to serve, baby.
Landon narrows his eyes, probably having figured out my plan. But there’s nothing he can do now.
He’ll never, ever be able to get between me and Glyndon if he doesn’t want to be the one who’s hated instead.
One-nil, motherfucker.
