Jeremy disappeared.
Not completely. Just from my life.
It’s been two weeks since he took me to the club and kissed me with an insatiable hunger. Two weeks and my lips still tingle in remembrance of his forceful hands and punishing mouth.
After he dropped me home that night, he hasn’t shown himself around me.
There’s no more stalking, no more unsolicited sliding into my peripheral vision and following me back to the flat.
Nothing.
At first, I thought it was because of all the events happening on both campuses, especially the rivalry between the Heathens and the Serpents.
He’s the leader, after all, and these types of events would be on the forefront of his mind.
However, that didn’t stop him before. No matter what type of fuckery was going on, Jeremy managed to continuously transform into my shadow and haunt my days and nights.
Especially my nights.
I stare out my window at the gloomy darkness outside, rolling my pen between my fingers.
My attention has long since become scattered, blown by the wind and shattered by the edge of daydreaming. My academics have suffered the most, no matter how much I push myself into my ‘nerd’ zone, as my friends call it.
Straightening in my rotating chair, I slap my cheeks and return my focus to the project I’m supposed to be making.
Five minutes is all it takes before the words on the screen of my laptop blur into intelligible chaos.
Images of that day rush back into my mind. Punishing lips, merciless hands, unforgiving eyes.
I thought it was a dream, but I obviously zoned out and it was for longer than usual since my brain had the capacity to turn the event into a dream.
Not a nightmare. A dream.
My fingers ghost over my lips and touch them tentatively. A zap slashes through my body, and usually, I’d drop my hand as if I’d been caught stealing from a biscuit jar.
Now, I don’t.
This time, I close my eyes and picture his lips, unapologetic and controlling. I had no choice but to let him ravage, suck, lick.
It was a stolen moment that I couldn’t have put an end to.
I hate myself for reliving it over and over again. For picturing his big hand around my waist and the other trapping my cheek.
For still having the distinctive feeling of his erection rubbing against my backside.
But what I hate the most is wondering about why he left and never came back.
It’s not that I want him back.
I was relieved the first few days he wasn’t around to keep an eye on me.
Jeremy is a dangerous man, the worst enigma, and a devil with distorted morals and a cutthroat personality. He’s absolutely not someone I want to mingle with, so, yeah, I was glad he got over whatever stalker kink he had.
But that relief soon morphed into something more nefarious.
Unsettling curiosity.
I keep replaying what happened after he kissed me, poured vodka down my throat, then drank it off me.
He looked mad before he abruptly announced we were leaving. No, not mad. Possibly annoyed?
I really can’t be sure, considering his never-changing angry expression, so I have no clue if he looked that way by default or due to something I did.
I open my eyes, groan softly, then fish out my phone and open Instagram. I realize I’m letting him get under my skin, but I can’t help it.
Jeremy has an account, but he seldom posts on it, and most of his pictures are blurred and unintelligible. A mass of black and white and mysterious.
A day ago, I scrolled through all of his posts twice. This is the third time.
What? I need to know the enemy.
Though is he really an enemy if he’s actually left you alone?
I ignore that voice and start at the top.
Jeremyvolkov. That’s what his account is called. He doesn’t have a bio or anything.
His profile picture is a black and white side shot of him on his bike, wearing a leather jacket. From this angle, his hair flopped by the wind, his square jaw appears ready to cut someone in half.
In most of the pictures, he’s on the bike, with Nikolai, who’s usually half naked on his own bike, or with the other guys. There are no family pictures. Not even any with Annika.
She, however, posts religiously, and some of them do include Jeremy. He’s an unwilling participant in all of them since she usually catches him in the background.
My favorite picture of them is one she posted a few weeks back. It’s from when she was young, maybe about four years old while Jeremy is no older than ten. She was laughing through her tears while he wiped them. Her caption was even more heartwarming.
Do I have the best brother ever? Yes, yes, I totally do. Thank you for being my anchor, Jer *purple hearts*
But even Annika doesn’t have a full family picture. The closest one to a family photo is one of her hugging her mum, with Jeremy standing behind them.
She captioned it: My favorite people.
There’s no trace of their father and I guess that makes sense, considering his leadership position in the mafia.
After scrolling through Jeremy’s profile for longer than needed, I groan and hit the home screen.
What the hell am I doing?
The first post that appears is of Landon kissing a statue on the mouth.
landon-king: If you know what agalmatophilia means, be mine?
I know Lan has been a highly sexualized person since we were teens. He’s had weird sexual adventures, which is different from, say, his twin, Bran.
He’s on the same level as Remi, but not really. Remington genuinely loves chasing after skirt, a playboy through and through.
Lan only wants the bizarre experiences, the things that are frowned upon by society, the kinks that most people are afraid to try.
It’s like he’s challenging himself to go further and further.
Until he’s out of reach.
It’s downright paraphilia at times. Sexual deviation and attraction to atypical individuals, situations, objects, and behaviors.
The type most serial killers have.
It’s funny how these types of posts used to tug at my heart, but now, I just smile and like his picture. I guess it means I’m emotionally mature enough to understand him better.
I don’t even mind the thousands of thirsty comments from girls—and boys—volunteering to be his object of perversion.
They probably wouldn’t feel the same if he actually acted on his kinks. Plural. I know I wouldn’t let him tie me up me in a room and let random strangers watch.
I always thought we were sexually compatible, but maybe that was just vain hope.
I scroll through to read the comments from the friends we have in common.
lord-remington-astor: Picture was taken by yours truly. No need to thank me, ladies.
eli-king: No tongue?
ariella-jailbait-nash: *heart eyes*
the-ava-nash: What the hell are you doing here, Ari? You’re only 16. Get out of 18+ space!
ariella-jailbait-nash: No.
annika-volkov: So beautiful.
glyndon-king: The statue *heart eyes*
brandon-king: Poor statue.
I comment beneath them.
cecily-knight: *hearts emoji*
I’m about to scroll some more, but a commotion in the flat steals my attention.
Since I’m not studying anyway, I roll out of my chair, do some stretches, and then smooth my fluffy pajamas.
Definitely not something I’d buy myself. Although I’m all for anything comfy and casual. This was a gift from Ava, and I wear them because the shirt has the quote Nerd? I prefer intellectually superior.
As soon as I open my door, I’m slammed with endless noise and chatter.
No surprise, Remi has decided to invade our space just because he’s bored and probably has no shags scheduled for tonight. As usual, Creighton and Bran are with him.
He waltzes into our living room carrying bottles of beer and starts to kick, push, and rearrange our furniture.
“Stop doing that!” Ava runs toward him and effortlessly tries to put an end to his chaos. “This is our space!”
“I’m not hearing you over my lordship’s creative ideas.” He tells Creighton to help him, which he does without a word.
When he reaches the sofa on which Annika sits like a doll, slurping from her purple cup and glittery straw, he fixates her with a stare.
That’s enough to have her stand up and head to Ava’s side.
Remi, who’s having his way as usual, grins, opens a bottle of beer, and gives one to Bran. “Cheers, mate!”
Bran clicks Remi’s bottle with his and sits on the floor cross-legged. Even though he’s Lan’s identical twin brother, the similarities stop there. Bran is more silent, nicer, kinder, and definitely isn’t up to trouble all the time. He’s a bit like me, but I think he runs deeper than any of us know.
He’s hanging out with us mainly because Remi dragged him along.
Remi always bugs him and Creigh to join his endeavours, part because he’s annoying and part because he knows we wouldn’t actually kick them out.
“The house is so silent,” the prick muses, running his gaze over the place.
“I’m right here, dick.” Ava glares down her nose at him but still snatches a bottle of beer.
“Not you, peasant.” He sniffs the air. “I can smell that other crazy cougar, so she must be around here. Unless she actually died in one of her books and her ghost is doing stretches to haunt us.”
“The only one I’ll haunt is you, Remi.” I stroll from my room and join them.
The other guys nod at me and I nod back. Ava, however, side-hugs me. “Rems invaded our flat and ruined our pretty decorations.”
He gives an evil laugh. “You don’t stand a chance in front of my genius plans.”
“More like foolish,” I mutter.
“Don’t be jealous, Ces.”
“Of what exactly?”
“My dashing looks, for one.” He forms an L at his chin and touches his nose to show just how straight it is. “I’m open to giving you lessons in charisma if you get on your knees and call me your master.”
“In your dreams.”
“In my dreams, you’re not a prude slash nerd.”
“Now, who’s the jealous one?”
“Of your nonexistent sex life.” He pretends to yawn. “Wake me up when this one starts to say the word cock. Sorry, I mean penis.”
“You little—” I pause when I feel Ava’s body vibrating against mine. “Are you laughing?”
“No, I swear.” She does a shit job at hiding her laughter. “I’m done.”
“Something Cecy will never say in this lifetime,” Remi muses.
Ava snorts and bursts out laughing.
“I’m going to kill you,” I tell him, then glare at Ava. “And you just lost bestie privileges.”
“No, Cecy.” She hugs me tighter. “Don’t leave me. And shut up, Rems, seriously. Leave her alone. We need a prude in our ranks like we need a manwhore, aka you.”
Remi laughs. “Joke’s on you because that’s a compliment!”
“Was that supposed to make me feel better?” I ask Ava while wearing my poker face.
She merely grins and hugs me again. “You can die celibate and we’ll still love you.”
Rolling my eyes, I push her away and head toward Anni, who’s not so subtly watching Creighton while toying with her straw.
When I sit beside her, she smiles and offers me some snacks.
Remi chooses to put Ava under fire, obviously bored with the old rehearsed topic of my alleged prudeness.
You’re not a prude if you like primal play.
I slowly close my eyes to chase away Jeremy’s voice. Just why on earth do I keep thinking of him when I’m supposed to be focusing that energy on starting anew with Lan?
Though is that what I truly want?
“I missed being here with you guys.” Anni sighs.
Right. She was often forced to stay in her brother’s mansion upon his order and there was nothing she could do about it.
“Can’t you tell him no?” I swallow. “Jeremy, I mean.”
“Tell Jer no?” She laughs awkwardly. “Have you seen him?”
I have.
Countless times.
And I hate it.
Because even when he’s not there, I find myself searching for his shadow in the darkness, behind the trees.
Everywhere.
“I did get some of my freedom back, so silver lining!” She smiles.
“Has he…always been controlling like this?” I realize that I’m digging where I’m not supposed to, but I can’t help it.
Maybe if I continue painting him as the devil, I’ll find the will to move past him.
Anni releases the straw and stares up. “For as long as I’ve been alive? He’s six years older than me, so ever since I was born, it’s felt as if I’ve had a guard from hell. No, a guardian angel.”
“Those are entirely different.”
“I hate when he confiscates my freedom, but I know he’s doing it because he cares about my safety. We…were born into a cruel world, and Jeremy suffered in it more than I did, so I guess he takes security very seriously and I love him as a brother. I just don’t like him as Papa’s heir sometimes.”
I rub the side of my nose.
Of course.
Jeremy is meant to be a mafia leader one day. That’s his destiny that he can’t escape even if he wants to. Considering all the violence he takes part in, I suspect he doesn’t.
That should be enough to make me forget about him.
Move on.
Even if my body refuses to erase his touch.
I grab a bottle of beer and chug half of it down.
“OMG.” Ava leaves Remi alone and wipes the side of my face. “Why are you drinking?”
“Last I checked, you’re not the only one who can.”
“You’re a lightweight, remember?”
“Leave me alone.” I swat her away as if she’s a fly.
“Yeah, leave her alone. Drunk Ces is much less uptight than sober Ces, and we love that beautiful bitch.” Remi clinks his bottle against mine. “Cheers to a truce!”
I drink the other half the bottle in one go and wince at the burn. They’re right. I don’t usually do this, but I’m safe here with them. If I somehow pass out, Ava will tuck me in.
While I avoid drink as to not repeat that black night, I don’t mind if it’s with people I trust.
It takes exactly three beers for my muscles to loosen, and I start grinning like an idiot.
Truth is, Remi is actually a clown and he’s funny. I’m just much harder on him when I’m sober, because he keeps calling me names.
We start singing karaoke, and I stand up to jump along to the music while hugging Ava and Anni, but immediately, the room starts swaying. Or I do.
Ava grabs me by the arm and snatches the beer from my hand. “No more drinks for you, lady.”
“Nooo, let me be.”
“Yeah, let her be.” Remi appears like a devil on my left. “Drunk Cecy is fun Cecy!”
I narrow my eyes on him. “I’m not a prude.”
He grins. “Wanna be in my next orgy?”
“Hmph. I’m into something way better than that.” I pull on his ear. “Wanna know what?”
“Fuck yeah. I’m all for kinks.”
“Forget it.” My shoulders slump. “I’m too cowardly to try it again.”
“You can just un-coward yourself.” He waggles his brows. “I can help.”
I grab him by the face, watching him intently before I tut. “Not the right one.”
“Hey, what the actual fuck? I’m always the right one. It’s on my birth certificate right next to the aristocratic title.”
I wave him off and stumble, then hit a fallen pillow. Creighton catches me with a slight frown. “You good?”
I pat his arm, nodding, and pull his ear to whisper, “Perrrfect.”
He merely raises a brow, seeming to call my bullshit, but he doesn’t push it.
“I love you, Creigh.”
“Thanks?”
“Want me to help with Anni?”
“If you mean help to keep her away, sure.”
“Oh, please.” I snort and push him away. “Liar. Liar. Hey, Ava! Is there any vodka around here?”
“None of us drink that. What the fuck?” Ava snatches me from Creigh’s hold, drags me to my room, and dumps me on the bed like I’m a sack of potatoes. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”
I stand up, sway, and fall back down with a grunt. “I’m gonna go to the store and get some vodka.”
“Like fuck you are. You can’t even walk.” She sits beside me and checks my temperature. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you don’t willingly drink or entertain Remi, and you’ve certainly never even tried vodka before.”
“I did.” I grin, my voice lowering. “It was sexy.”
“Huh?”
“Shh,” I murmur. “He could be watching. He’s everywhere and nowhere all at once.”
“Why are we whispering?” She matches my tone. “And who is he?”
“The devil,” I say in a hoarse voice, then gasp. “He disappeared and I hate it.”
“Is this about Lan?” She frowns. “He’s seriously bad news, Cecy. I thought you were over him by now.”
“Are you over Eli?”
She purses her lips. “In this house, we don’t speak of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.”
I release a long breath and lie down. “I wish it was about Lan. The devil you know is better, right?”
“What the fuck type of drug did you inhale today?”
“Devilish?”
“I swear, you’ll be the death of me.” She makes me drink water, then tucks me in bed and even kisses my forehead like I do to her when she’s drunk out of her mind.
Ava and I only allow ourselves to be vulnerable in each other’s company.
Because that’s what best friends are for.
She remains by my side until she thinks I’ve fallen asleep.
As soon as she leaves, I open my eyes and stare at the mangas covering the ceiling.
After a few minutes, I pull out my phone.
I’m so going to regret this in the morning, but if I wait until I’m sober, I’ll never stop being a coward and will never do what I want.
To take risks.
To step out of my comfort zone.
I want that feeling of freedom again. I need to overflow with being both wrong and right at the same time.
After clicking on Lan’s profile, I pause, then type a DM.
I want to be chased and ambushed. In the dark. Where you can use me and no one knows.
He reads it. But no dots appear.
I stare at my screen for what seems like hours, but no reply comes.
So I flip my phone and groan when it falls on my face.
That’s why tears come out—because the hit hurts.
It’s not because of anything else.
I hide my eyes with my arms and this time force myself to fall asleep.
I dream of dark eyes following my every move, watching every step, and counting every breath.
They’re intense and ruthless and I don’t stand a chance in front of them.
It’s half a dream, half reality, because I know I’m lying in bed and drunk out of my mind with tears in my eyes.
But I still feel him.
He fills the room with his otherworldly presence as he watches me from the corner with enough tension to spike the heat in my veins.
I kick the blanket away and moan when it rubs against my soft flesh. I slide my hand beneath my shorts, under my knickers, then tease my swollen folds.
Soft moans slip out of me and I hide my face in the pillow to muffle them. The more I feel his eyes on me, the harder I tease my clit and the stronger I sense the pleasure building in my core.
When I’m getting close, I writhe in bed, my heart beating so loud, I’m surprised no one outside can hear.
A low tutting sound fills the room and I freeze, slowly opening my eyes.
They clash with gray ones. The devil’s eyes.
Who’s watching my every move from the corner.
“No wonder you like to be chased when you touch yourself this gently. How about I show you how it’s properly done, Lisichka?”
