Here Lies a Saint: A Dark Bully Academy Romance Page 14

  Lux.

  Fuck.

  “No, stay back. Go away!” My pants make the words sound more exhausted than my body, but I don’t stop pushing toward the edge of Arcadia. I can escape. I’m so close.

  Where will I go?

  Nowhere is safe anymore.

  “Don’t be like that, Corpse. You’re going to hurt yourself!”

  I hate that his voice doesn’t sound strained whatsoever. Why do I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack and collapse at any moment?

  And just like that, my body trips and falls into the ground. Luckily, it’s grass and dirt, rather than gravel and rocky, but fuck, it takes all the oxygen from me. My bag lies next to me, the contents spilled across the ground.

  “Fucking hell,” I groan, feeling a sharp pain in my rib.

  “You were just barely cleared for working out. You weren’t supposed to go from walking dead to marathoner.”

  I’d laugh, but breathing hurts. I just stay still, hoping it’s enough to keep him away. I’m so mad at this entire situation, at Bridger, at Just and Pru for letting Lux fuck me. I’m just fucking mad.

  “Go away.” It’s so weak sounding, bone-tired, nearly dead.

  Slowly rolling to my back, I see him crouched. He looks worn down like me. For once, his eyes hold bags. They’re sleepless and sorrowful somehow, and it hits me square in the chest.

  He leans toward me, wiping something off my chin before tipping it toward him. “Why are you running?” His face, pained and solemn, tells me he knows why, but for some reason, he wants confirmation.

  “I can’t do this.” My chin wobbles, swallowing back my fear and discontent.

  His thumb traces the wrinkle, soft, gentle, so unlike the boy who has single-handedly made my life hell recently. When it drags across my lip, I whimper.

  “You’re so fucking strong, Colton.”

  Whenever any of the guys say my name, it breaks down my barriers. It’s as if they want to drill inside my soul where it's most vulnerable and keep digging after they’ve already found the center.

  “Don’t,” I plead.

  His face isn’t stoic like usually. It doesn’t hold this cocky quality, either. It’s full of everything he buries inside of him. Somehow, that part of him, the hidden one, is the part I miss.

  Back when things were good and he told me he liked me a lot, he was like this.

  Softer.

  Just for me.

  “You amaze me,” Lux admits. He holds an open book in his hands. He’ll never admit it, but he enjoys school work. Between being the top of class with Bridger, he’s a total nerd. Being taught, absorbing knowledge, it’s what he looks forward to.

  Sometimes, I think it has more to do with routine, the need to repeat the same thing so life doesn’t feel as heavy, but then there are times right now as he’s helping me with my latest literary research where there’s an actual want in his eyes to help me succeed.

  “Is it because I’m a good kisser?” It comes out super breathy, and for some reason, shame doesn’t coat my cheeks like normal. It just blows off like a feather in the wind.

  “Miss Hudson, I’m not sure what you’re referring to? I would never.” He mock-gasps, clutching his imaginary pearls. “I’m a gentleman.”

  We both snicker at that.

  Lux may ask me when and how he can touch me, but nothing we do where we both moan is gentlemanly.

  Shaking the memory free, I see how close he is to my face. A shudder pillages my frame. His mouth hovers mine, and it’s the last thing I want.

  I’ve already betrayed the twins so much.

  Even with them nowhere to be found, over in my head, they’re still mine as much as I’m theirs.

  Would they truly care, though? They watched as Lux took me.

  “Tell me, Corpse...” he trails off, his fingers wading into my hair, massaging and promising. “Does death become us?”

  Gasping, he steals my breath with his mouth. His lips are hesitant and petal-like, soft yet somehow still demanding. Hot air travels across me. It’s cold out, but Lux keeps the warmth between us.

  Our lips don’t move. We settle on this in-between of kissing and not, this stagnant want, hopeless need, disastrous ending.

  That’s what me and the boys are.

  An ending.

  Unfortunately for us all, it won’t end well.

  We don’t willingly pull away. It’s the sound of footsteps that separate us.

  “Really?”

  It’s Bridger. If not for his shadow, his entirety would be dark enough. If someone could describe a walking fallen angel. It’d be him.

  He gives off perfection, almost too sweet, gentle, but he’s dark and depraved. He was forced down from heaven for a reason, after all.

  “You were supposed to get her ready. Watch her.” Lux’s response sends me crawling away. He peers at me, his mask back on. He grips my ankle, pulling me back toward him. “Uh, uh, uh.”

  “Let me go, or I’ll scream.”

  Surprise traces his face for a flicker from my threat before he narrows his gaze.

  He releases my ankle and stands, offering me a hand. “You won’t scream, Corpse. You and I both know your life is disposable. No point in making a scene.”

  I catch the shock in Bridger’s expression before he, too, masks to indifference. “Off we go. Now, we’ve somehow got to fit in a shower before this ceremony.”

  “Ceremony?” My question doesn’t go unnoticed, but neither of them answer anyway.

  “After the ceremony, Edgington has us headed to the estate,” Bridger explains as if this is a business deal and not my life.

  Lux holds my arm, knowing I’ll run if he gives me the chance. Not sure how he’s aware, but he’s smart for realizing it before it’s too late.

  “Are you going?” Lux refers to Bridger.

  He stares at me for a glimpse before destroying every semblance of peace I’ve ever had. “Got to make sure Jordan doesn’t fuck my girl.”

  I cringe and want to stab him over and over and then some more for good measure, making sure he feels what those words just did to me.

  Lux, not getting the point, stops. “Colt isn’t yours, Ridge.”

  Bridger shakes his head with a dark chuckle, bringing the fingers that just touched me to his nose, inhaling deeply. “I was talking about Melissa.”

  “You’re an ass,” Lux barks, but he doesn’t turn to see my face, my devastation, and my need to run once more.

  Shaking my arm from Lux, I run away but toward home. They’ll catch up, and if the pain in my rib doesn’t ebb, it’ll be to the concierge doctor anyway.

  The sounds of them shuffling behind me doesn’t deter me, but it does keep me from slowing down. By the time I hit my room, getting my stuff for a shower, I’ve numbed myself to my outcome.

  Ceremony.

  Estate.

  Revenge.

  Those words are on repeat as I head to the showers.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Colt

  Death by uncomfortable dinners, is that a thing?

  Apparently, after the winter assembly, the families have a huge dinner together at the Opal tower. The one for the staff.

  You see, I’ve never been to one of them.

  The first year I’d been at Arcadia, I’d snuck out with Yang, and we drove down to San Diego for a shopping trip and beach time.

  Second-year, I’d ditched to hang out with Ten. We made out in his dorm.

  Now, as I’m heading to the tower with Bridger pushing me along and Lux acting like he isn’t a part of this stupid fucking winter break fiasco, I’m exhausted.

  The trees are bare, all but the pines. I’m wondering if their lackluster appearance is meant to replicate my detachment from this moment.

  I tried to run.

  I failed.

  Now, it’s time to face the music.

  “I’m going to go speak to Elijah,” Bridger grunts, his face discontent but serious all the same. He walks away and
I’m stuck with Lux. Lux raises an eyebrow and nods. “You need to shower, Corpse.”

  I narrow my eyes, feeling embarrassment and heat tickle my skin like a feather. “Am I not impressive enough?”

  He smiles a little at that, not a full one, no, but a lilt to his lips that show he’s amused. “It’s not me you have to impress. It’s them.”

  “Who are them, Lux?”

  He shakes his head a little, his face masking something, as it usually does, and he clenches his jaw. “This is an Emeralds’ event, Colt. We tried everything to get you to stay away, just like every year.”

  Waving my hands to cut off more of his words, I come closer to him. “You didn’t keep me away. I chose to leave.”

  He laughs derisively, no humor in the forced sound. “You weren’t here because we made it happen. Cass, me, Ten, the others... we made your ditching and leaving possible.”

  I raise a quizzical eyebrow, wondering what he even means. Every time of year this happened, I’d make plans. They didn’t do anything for me.

  “Think about it, Corpse. When would your moms ever let you out of their sight if you needed to be present?”

  I nod, thinking of Mom and her adamant and nearly abusive way of forcing me into events, and Moms always appeasing her...

  He’s right.

  “But why?”

  He closes his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath. “There’s so much you don’t know. So fucking much. It’s annoying in an obnoxious way. I can’t tell you things, and there are some details that are better left unsaid...”

  “Stop pussyfooting over-explaining shit, Lux. It’s not cute.” Swallowing the dryness in my mouth, I close my eyes and try to calm my racing heart and annoyance bubbling inside. “Spit it out.”

  He shakes his head at me, and the frustration seeping through me makes me close the distance. Grabbing his chin like he’s done to me time and time again, I force him to see me.

  “Either you tell me, or I find out the hard way, but we both know the latter will put me in more danger.”

  He slides his palm up my inked flesh, gripping my wrist that holds his face, and he tears it away without a single ounce of fight from me.

  “This dinner is to decide what to do with the families.”

  “Founding families?” My heart rate picks up at the words. Founding families. The ones who supposedly held all this power.

  “Yes. They’re what makes this town thrive. Our parents decide what’s to come, what is needed of us.”

  I don’t understand why or how, but I nod anyway so he doesn’t stop talking.

  “Since Cass is gone, they want you in the mix. The only problem is, you’re not trained or even slightly prepared. It’s bullshit.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He grimaces, cupping my jaw a moment later. “It means that you’re not mentally or psychologically prepared for what is about to happen, but, Colt...” He pauses, tracing my jaw with his thumb. “I really fucking need you to pretend. Act like you’re confident. That none of this bothers you. Keep yourself fucking safe. You got me?”

  An ache festers between my ribs as the heat of his palms brings me no comfort. Not wanting to show him my weakness, I don’t tell him, but I’m terrified. Between Yang’s murder, and my fear of what Cass was a part of, I’m feeling anything but confident.

  “Colt,” he tries again, his hold fiercer, and my eyes connect with his. The emotion he never allows to show is there. Fear. Palpable. Realistic. Graspable. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  He drops his hands and acts as if we didn’t just have a conversation that bordered an intimacy we’ve never shared. Instead of making a joke or lessening the intensity of the moment, we head inside the tower.

  We—as students—aren’t really allowed in this particular tower. It’s off-limits and incomplete. Literally, the last ten floors up top are supposedly empty. It’s barren and messy, incomplete, and unnecessary, a result of making a building too large for too little occupants.

  I follow him like the good little Hudson I’m supposed to be. Am I about to lose everything I hold dear?

  Lux, along with everyone else, has dispersed, and I’m here, trying to navigate this place, wondering where everyone is and what exactly I’m supposed to be doing. I haven’t seen my parents or any of the others; it’s almost like they’re in some secret meeting and I’m an outsider. Ross waited for me while I showered but after I dressed, but he was gone. If he’s supposed to be my bodyguard or person to stop me from escaping, he’s doing a shit job of it.

  Rounding one of the halls, I notice a room that’s lit up but only dimly. It’s one of those business-like meeting rooms, like in the Crystal Tower, where we’d have all of our student council meetings.

  Voices filter through my ears the nearer I get. They’re too mumbled, too hushed, and too close to gibberish for me to decipher anything clearly.

  Tiptoeing my way to the opening, I make sure to check around me, hoping no one notices my snooping.

  “What about the baby?” a man I don’t recognize asks someone.

  Turning to peer into the room, I see two figures. One is most definitely a woman, and the other is a man. Right now, she’s sitting in a fancy antique-looking chaise lounge, her face hidden from me.

  “Solomon will be okay. I’ll raise him,” she states. It’s a lot more confident than her facial expressions show.

  Who is Solomon?

  “Who is his father?”

  “I-I’m not sure,” the woman mumbles, her face breaking with worry. “She never mentioned a father.”

  My heart hammers, my breathing heavy and overwhelming. Who is her? Why is this baby important? I’m so confused.

  “If that’s the case, we will have to take the child and raise him in the estates as every orphan child is raised.”

  The woman breaks into a sob while the man stares at her. No one has seen me, but I feel like I’ve walked into a different dimension, one where girls babies are up for debate, and somehow, they are raised with random ass people. Already, I feel a closeness to this child, the need to protect the stranger lighting up my entire frame with desperation.

  “P-please don’t take my grandson away, Xavier.”

  Xavier.

  Xavier.

  I roll his name around on my tongue, wondering where I’d heard it before. Xavier Clemonte. Fuck.

  “Your tears do nothing for me. This child is no more than an extension of the Emeralds’ future. He’s the first male born in your family name for decades. He must stay at the Edgington Estates along with the other abandoned children.”

  “P-please,” she whimpers, and my heart aches for her. I can feel her attachment, the love she has for that child in the simple way she begs for him.

  “Enough,” Elijah comes in from the hidden part of the room that my vision can’t see. “This child will be raised as an Edgington child. He will know honor, loyalty, and to be strong, unlike his excuse of a mother. Luckily, before she betrayed the cause, she brought life. If not, you’d be dissolved.” He makes a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. “Your entire lineage is tainted by fallacies, and he won’t be a part of that.”

  The woman breaks down into a heap of sobs, and I see both men offer her nothing but indifference.

  As I’m about to turn, my mouth is covered. A scream is lodged in my throat from the surprise and fear mixed together.

  Whoever is holding my mouth hostage knew I’d scream, and as they drag me away, I don’t fight because if I did, I’d be caught, and they could kill me. All the new information coming out is too shocking for me to really make sense of it.

  Someone in the Emeralds was a mother.

  How can that be? I thought women weren’t allowed. Isn’t that what the boys said?

  Baby Solomon is now an orphan.

  Whoever this baby is, my need to help him escape becomes an oath of blood, the one in my veins, the need to break a patriarchal burden he never signed u
p for.

  How is this real life?

  When I’m dragged into a nearby room, I finally see who grabbed me. “Jordan?”

  He doesn’t smile at me, doesn’t waver his discontent, but sadness dwells there. It’s nearly hidden, but his eyes are honest in a way he never has been with me.

  “You shouldn’t wander,” he whispers. There’s a grit to his voice. It’s desperate but emotional. Why did he come for me in the assembly? Why did he try to stop me?

  “You shouldn’t marry her,” I deflect, not wanting him to know I heard a lot more than I bargained for.

  He lets out a humorless laugh, the exasperation as present as the disdain. Jordan isn’t a good guy. I wouldn’t wish him on anyone, but Melissa doesn’t want to be married.

  Or does she?

  “Do you think I want that, Vamp?”

  “Back to Vamp, are we?”

  Shaking his head, he leans against the desk in the center of the room we’re in. Taking a moment to look around, it seems we’re in a study of some sort. It isn’t modernized like the majority of Arcadia rooms, instead rather stuck in the past, where mahogany was popular and warm tones expressed every wall.

  “Do you hate me, Colton?”

  I stare at him, shocked, not because I think for a second he wants me to like but because he seems to actually care.

  “You’re an absolute dick,” I explain.

  He chuckles softly, his face softening. “That I am.”

  He pushes off the desk, coming toward me. Like Lux only an hour before, he glides his palms up to my jaw. Why do they always have to touch me?

  “Are you unhappy about the turn of events?” he asks.

  Shaking from his grip, I turn, needing to settle my erratic thoughts. I don’t care that he’s marrying her. I don’t care.

  But somewhere, in the back of my head, however small, I want to rip Melissa’s throat from her body. Why is she not only getting Bridger but now Jordan?

  I don’t want that.

  I hate it, actually, not only the thought of her with Jordan but the thought of if, like Lux, he would share her. Heat rises to my chest and flares up to my cheeks, making me madder.

  “I’m taking that as a yes,” he taunts, but it’s softer. Kind. He isn’t being his hostile dickish self. At this moment, he's the same guy in the assembly who reached out for me, who tried to stop me from reaching that podium and signing my death sentence.