Here Lies a Saint: A Dark Bully Academy Romance Page 17

  Today, for some reason, is different. Parris isn’t outside my door. Elijah isn’t breathing down my neck, and I have been wandering the halls for an hour without one repercussion. The desire to go to the nursery and see Soloman rattles me. I can’t place the reasoning to why he brings me peace, but the way I want to protect him and make sure he’s never hurt is stronger than my desire to run away from this hell.

  A photo stops me in my tracks. My eyes catch the vibrant colors of the picture in front of me. It’s a massive painting of a house. Hell, house is an understatement. It’s more like a castle without the stereotypical Roman feel to it.

  Sweeping over every detail, I feel enamored with the building. Something about it feels like home. The way whoever painted it went to great lengths to show their brushstrokes is beautiful.

  I think back to my paintings, the way I express rage and hatred through paints that don’t match the boxed theme of what they should. This painting, it’s stunning in a messy way. When there’s this much aggression to a painting, the painter either goes for the aesthetic or it’s from emotions driving them.

  I’d like to think it’s the latter, wanting someone’s passion to overrule their ego.

  “That’s Snapdragon’s Palace,” Jordan’s voice sounds out from nearby.

  Chills break out across my skin, trailing my skin and touching me everywhere he hasn’t in weeks.

  “I’ve never had the pleasure of visiting. It’s not a place anyone can venture.”

  “Why?” I find myself asking, not knowing if it’s because I want him to keep talking or to prove hearing him isn’t in my head. When you’ve been isolated for so long, you tend to speak to yourself aloud, just so the silence isn’t as deafening.

  Footsteps sound out behind me, and a moment later, a warm palm flattens against the small of my back. Breaths whisper against my neck, and I shiver involuntarily.

  “Some say it’s abandoned, broken, nothing after the Vestige abolished Grims from the ledger.”

  I suck in a breath at the name. It doesn’t register in my brain, but it sounds dark and depraved.

  “But I think like this painting. It’s vibrant and still salvageable, and maybe it’s too beautiful to ever destroy.”

  Exhaling loudly, I wait for his hand to move. When it doesn’t, I allow myself to turn. Melissa has talked about Jordan nonstop since last week. Day one, she complained that he stole her chance with Bridger, but it seems she got over it soon, talking about Jordan being a perfect gentleman.

  I’ve had his dick inside me. He’s anything but a gentleman.

  I want to erase him from Mel’s vocabulary and strip Bridger from her taste buds. I would do just about anything to eradicate her from this world simply because my jealousies are getting the better of me. I didn’t expect for my new best friend to become the one person I hate more than Elijah. I should let them be.

  Unable to help myself, I look upward, seeing his face for the first time in over a week. My body feels like jelly, an undertone of boneless, and desperation comes to mind.

  “There’s my vampire,” Jordan muses with a smirk.

  I don’t offer a smile. My face feels broken. A concurrent unfeeling numbness comes over me that sometimes makes me wonder if I’ll get stuck in a permanent grimace.

  His gaze rake my frame, and worry lines his face. I hate the care there, the way he sees me. He shouldn’t. He’s the meanest, but somehow, I feel my loneliness in his eyes.

  “Your hair.” His fingers run through my short locks. He cups the base of my skull, bringing us even closer.

  “I don’t feel like me.” The words escape me, and it’s true. I don’t feel like me, but I feel stronger and a bit crazier.

  “You’re still beautiful.”

  “Beautiful?” I mock. “You’ve always been such an ass.”

  He smiles. It’s small and boyish, but it’s there all the same. “I have my reasons.”

  “Hope those reasons are worth me walking away,” I respond, turning away.

  As soon as I step a few feet away, he grabs my wrist and drags me awkwardly to his chest.

  “You’ll understand eventually, Corpse. I promise.”

  For some reason, that’s enough to get me to fall into him. Human touch isn’t my favorite, but right now, he’s the serotonin I’ve needed. Warmth welcomes me, and it’s nice to not feel so alone, even if it won’t last.

  “Do you like her?” The words slip from me, not intentionally, but the question has been there, lurking in my mind for a while now.

  His humor flattens; a crease in his brow is all that he’s expressing now. Without him answering, the doubt in my mind wants to yell, of course he does, but the softer side of me, the one who holds hope and doesn’t give into the demon’s whispers, he never could.

  “What do you want to hear?”

  The response no one asked for comes from his lips, and I’m stuck between kneeing him where it hurts, and crying over the fact that boys are stupid as shit. It’s not about what I want to hear. It’s about the truth and nothing less. How does he not understand that? How do none of them ever get that all I’ve ever wanted is honesty?

  Pushing him away, I back up. He follows, and I’m eventually against the wall, merely missing the painting that created the domino effect of having Jordan here right now.

  “Fine. If you won’t tell me if you like her, will you tell me if you’ve touched her?” My voice breaks at the last three words, feeling the crack as if it actually happened and not just a metaphorical question.

  “Does it bother you?”

  Aggressively raising my hands in the air, I groan loudly. “Would you stop answering my questions with a question?”

  He doesn’t chuckle. His face isn’t expressing more than he’s pondering my words. Either that or he’s keeping his emotions close to the vest. I never really know with him.

  His left hand touches my jaw briefly, sliding down to my throat. As he twirls his finger across my veins, I take in a deep breath, hoping to steady myself.

  “Are you jealous, Corpse?” Gripping my hips with both of his hands, he digs into them a lot more than I expected.

  I let out a whimper and hate myself for allowing him that sound. He doesn’t deserve it from me.

  “Thing is,” he teases, pushing his hips into mine, “Southern Peach Barbie couldn’t possibly turn me on like you do.”

  I breathe out a shallow breath. It’s quiet and small, but it’s there nonetheless, and he takes advantage of my weakness.

  “You’re the only girl for me, the only one I want to sink deep inside and hear whimper my name. The only one I want to touch and devour. The only one I want as mine.”

  He lifts me easily, pressing me into the wall. My longer skirt slides up as my thighs wrap around his waist, and I moan when he grinds himself against me.

  It’s been so long.

  Without touch.

  Without taste.

  Without release.

  We move together, gyrating. No mouths touching, no skin touching, just our clothed bodies seeking friction in the middle of a goddamn hallway for anyone to pass.

  “How could you think she could ever turn me on?” He closes the distance between our mouths, latching onto my bottom lip, dragging the pearly whites across my flesh aggressively. “Haven’t you learned yet? I like freaks with too many tattoos and piercings. I like to make my girl scream and cry, and when she begs me to make her come, making her wait is my favorite part.”

  I melt into him at that, sweat licking every vulnerable inch of me. The brat inside me wants to rebel and the masochist inside me begs me to incite anger too. They both want the pain and punishment he would offer if we had time.

  “Tell me not to fuck you in this hall, Corpse. Beg me not to shove my cock inside you and show you that Melissa means nothing to me.”

  A garbled cry releases from me. He knows I won’t. Not beg, not deny this, not stop us from fucking against this barren wall.

  “She’s your fianc�
�e now. She’s yours. You’re not mine,” I whine. It hurts to express the words and make them leave my mouth. Jordan uses one knee to keep me up and I hear as Jordan unbuckles his jeans and pulls out his dick. His eyes are darkened orbs, the nearly black navy blue completely stealing my breath.

  “Fuck, Corpse. You shouldn’t have me this tangled.”

  Without telling me exactly what he means, he moves my panties to the side and shoves inside me. My back arches off the wall, and he smacks a hand over my mouth before a strangled sob escapes from the pleasure.

  “Jordan,” I groan.

  “That’s right, Colty. Take me in.” He presses into me, making me squirm.

  I must’ve forgotten how large he is. My stomach clenches with butterflies. They zip through, penetrating as much as him, holding none hostage inside.

  “Mel couldn’t do this to me. She couldn’t make me rock hard and insatiable. She couldn’t undo me with simple words. She couldn’t make me aching with grumpy responses and hatred.”

  “You’re so fucked up,” I hiss, clenching around him.

  “Yeah, but you like it, Corpse. Don’t you?”

  “Fuck you, Jordan.”

  His hips piston, and our mouths collide. “Mmm hmm, didn’t know lies tasted so sweet. Seems like you like my cock fucking you just fine.”

  I growl, and he takes that opportunity to take my mouth again, letting one of his hands go from my hip to my throat.

  “Are you such a slut for me that you’ll come on my cock from me choking you?”

  I whimper, and he smirks. Taking my throat, he presses the sides, making me dizzy, and as he pumps into me and presses harder, I start blacking out. Tingles race up my spine and down to my clit, and the zinging has me screaming. Jordan’s too late to cover my mouth before the screech echoes, and I come around his length.

  “Fuck, Corpse. You’re so vocal. I forgot.” He lets my neck go and grips my hips, jackhammering into me. He covers my mouth, and I bite him as pleasure rips through me more. “My pretty little cum slut. Milk my cock, baby. Take it all.”

  I reach for his dark locks, tugging on them and rotating on him as his eyes roll back. His growl of release has my legs weaken and my heart racing. I’m not used to seeing such desire on a man, and Jordan took me by surprise.

  When he helps me off of him, I become wobbly. My body gives out, and while I don’t see stars, blackness threatens to overcome me as he lifts me and carries me away.

  “It’s okay, Colt. I got you.”

  His words are the last thing I hear before everything darkens.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lux

  It’s been weeks since I’ve seen Colt. Two weeks to be exact. She hasn’t been able to contact anyone, and while that wouldn’t be concerning for other people, it’s very concerning to me. My father decided to force me to stay at the Estate, along with him and that bitch Ashton.

  But seeing Jordan has been quick and fleeting. Moments in the middle of the night, escaping, running from the truth of the matter that we’ve both grown feelings that make very little sense.

  His father scares me, not for myself but for him. Much like Maxim, Jordan is into dicks, which makes him a target and punching bag if found out.

  My father paged me, by guard, to come to his office. As soon as I’ve entered his office, closing the door behind me, his mouth opens.

  “Today, you’re training the little whore how to be someone worth showcasing at the Gala.”

  The Gala.

  Family events are torture, but events for the Vestige are meant to change lives, and they’re fucking terrifying, especially since this event will announce my arranged marriage.

  The problem is, I don’t know who Dad’s forcing me to marry.

  The Clearwaters have cut ties with us after the scandal with their daughter and another jock at Arcadia.

  They’re our one true tie, other than the Hudsons, but that tie has also severed. Dad didn’t take too well that Tasha denied him and came out as a lesbian. Or so, he claimed. His ego couldn’t handle it which is why he married Mom, but after she died, Ashton came along, taking and taking, not leaving any part of me unscathed.

  “Lennox, could you help your stepmom?” Ashton asks, her expression nice and welcoming.

  She’s supposed to be a woman in the house to help me be a man with soft edges, right?

  I scoot over to her, not knowing why she’s on the chaise lounge in a robe.

  I’m fourteen. I know what a woman should look like, how attractive she should be, and what’s expected of me. It’s not news Ashton is way younger than Dad, that she’s beautiful and kind. She’s not as pretty as some Arcadia girls, but she’s definitely hot.

  She spreads her thighs, her legs parting with a smile on her face. I step until I’m right in front of her, my tie making my neck uncomfortable and tight.

  “What do you need help with?” I don’t try to come off harsh or cruel, but I definitely don’t come off kind with the way the words leave me abrasively.

  “Oh, sweetie... you’ll know.” Her hands trail across her arms and up her shoulders. She slips both sides off, bearing her breasts to me.

  I suck in a breath, not knowing if I should look or not. Bridger told me consent matters, and while she’s agreeing to showing me herself, I never gave her the same answer.

  “Touch me, Lennox.”

  “N-no,” I mutter.

  She’s my stepmom. She’s dad’s wife. She’s... old.

  Gripping my shaking palm, she drags it to her chest.

  “S-stop.”

  A chuckle leaves her. It’s nearly soundless to my ringing ears. The chaise squeaks as she moves, forcing me on top of her. Her hands touch me all over, and she forces me to touch her back.

  Shaking my head of the nightmare that hasn’t stopped playing in my head for the last few years, I swallow.

  A punch to my gut brings me entirely back to the moment.

  “When I speak to you, you pay attention.”

  Letting out a gasping hiss, I don’t clutch myself like I used to. I swallow the pain and think of Colt and her resilience.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “You know how I feel about repeating myself,” he barks, his expression aggressive and pinched. It’s insane how his face can seem impassive while his voice carries that scary realization that I’m fucked if he deems it so.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He adjusts his tie as if deciding something and peers directly in my eyes. “You’re to dance with Colton today. Teach her the basic routines so she doesn’t embarrass the founding families.”

  I nod, not knowing what else to say.

  “When your announcement comes, you best look and appear confident. Tonight will ensure our family’s rise. It’s been too goddamn long being beneath the Edgingtons’ power. We will make history.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He doesn’t roll his eyes at me, but he does let out an exasperated breath, bothered as ever. “It means you’ll do as I say and not fuck it up. I’ve literally signed your future and, with it, your two brothers.”

  Swallowing the worrisome lump in my throat, I nod. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I’ll be gone until tonight. Make sure Ashton needs for nothing,” he demands before leaving me alone in my temporary room.

  My stomach roils at his words. He may not have meant it to be anything more than saying she shouldn’t need to ask for anything, but my mind can only travel to the time she stole my virtue and fucked away my innocence.

  An hour later, I’m dressed, heading for the ballroom. I’ve been at the Estate on many occasions. When I arrive, I’m struck stupid by the girl standing with her back to me. The hair is shorter, a long bob, and cut in a way that screams rebellion. When she turns, I realize it’s Colt. Somehow, my heart instantly races, making my skin warm with nerves. Even with short black hair, she’s fucking stunning. No one has the right to look that good while also resembling a vampire.

&nbs
p; “Lux,” she enunciates slowly, her cheeks reddening in the best way.

  My eyes roam her makeupless face, seeing her freckles for once, the natural red hue of her blush, and the sadness she hid behind too.

  “Vamp,” I reply, feeling like my chest is far too tight.

  She’s staring at me like she’s seeing me for the first time again, and the way that kidnaps my morality and steals away everything else is haunting. Without preamble, I bring her to me, hugging her to my chest as if she’d disappear.

  I’m not sure when my antics went from hating her to needing her. When her distance felt like pain. When her absence was felt more than when I pretended to hate her.

  She’s consumed me, singlehandedly taken a vital part of me. It’s different. I can’t allow her to know. She’s too vulnerable that way.

  “Are they hurting you?” I ask, knowing they aren’t above torture. It seems they’ve already stolen her personality, but she seems tired. Exhausted, even.

  “Not more than to be expected from psychopaths.”

  I nod, understanding entirely. “Do you even know why we’re here?”

  She shakes her head, but the movement is slow. “No clue.”

  “The Gala is tonight.”

  “Tonight?” she hisses. We’re several days before Christmas. It isn’t like she should be surprised. It happens every year.

  “Yes, and I’ve been assigned to make you dance like a lady.”

  She chuckles dryly, bringing my first smile in ages forward. “A lady... me?”

  I can’t help but laugh a little at that. She’s a badass. That’s for sure. And like she always points out, a lady rarely makes history. Avoiding the social norms for women is something she’s always strived to do.

  “Then big man, the Luxinator, dude of all dudes, show me.” She raises an eyebrow at me, and the softness and sassiness tied together in that move have me feeling lighter somehow.