Here Lies a Saint: A Dark Bully Academy Romance Page 7

  But that's not what happened.

  She never saw me.

  I really wanted Colt to prove me wrong. Call me out on my shit, kiss me, smack me, even yell a little. But there's a fear in the contradiction, something beautiful in the defiance in her gaze. The ability to act coy when I played this girl off as no one. A one-night stand.

  And fuck, did my dick harden at the prospect of her being jealous over a fake person. Even with it being her, I could see the jealousy in her eyes.

  She didn't stop me because she wanted to seem upset to sell her story. Her reactions were based solely on her own feelings of me macking over a mystery girl.

  When we showered, I kept my hands to myself and allowed her to wash me as she continued to play her not-mad-at-me persona. She's jaded. No one can blame her for that.

  The reason I ushered her to the shower was purely selfish. They have cameras everywhere Colt frequents besides these showers and the toilets. Here, she is safe from them. And while I know she lied, I'll protect her. She's my girl, even if she hates me right now and wouldn't ever admit it to anyone else.

  It's been two hours. Colt left me to go see Melissa, and I waited for Pru to come back. Unlike me, he wasn't playing a game. My twin, for better or worse, is a softie. His soul is as pure as one can get in our line of work, our family, and this fucking town.

  He doesn't know about the lie.

  Bloodlines mean nothing to him. He only goes along for the ride as a result of being my brother. His heart is a rebel one, a fighter. He’s not willing to sacrifice for the cause.

  Duty doesn't matter in the scheme of things, not for him. It's why he protects our girl more than I do. If he could kill the world to save her, he would. His romantic heart is why we ended up in bed with her.

  It wasn't part of the plan.

  We broke the rules for her.

  She doesn't even know the risks we've taken just to touch her, taste her, fuck her... She's oblivious. Tasha didn't prepare her like she had Cassidy.

  Even her preparation for Cassidy had been fruitless. Tasha didn’t know everything, only what she had been given by her brother. The problem with Reid Hudson was that the bastard hated women.

  Cassidy would be alive today if not for their lack of execution. Tasha should've sought help. Tried harder. Learned more.

  She lost her only son—one who no one knows the father—simply by not preparing him correctly.

  Inefficiency is the death of execution, both of which Tasha carries tenfold. If she tried harder, many things would be different.

  As I'm about to leave Colt's dorm to search for Pru, he comes inside. His face, masked in indifference, doesn't give me a single ounce of how he's feeling.

  He's my twin, my best friend, but for once, he's showing nothing.

  "She here?" he asks, his tone mostly bored, but whether he's hiding or numbing himself, I know he cares.

  "Left to Melissa's," I supply.

  I wonder if he's going to hate me for long. Being at odds with Pru is the hardest part of life. He's my confidante, the only person I've ever been able to depend on.

  "You showered," he comments, probably noting my change of clothes. Nodding, I don't offer anything. Not the fight, not the lies, and definitely not that there are cameras in here.

  Protecting the one person I can't live without is my biggest secret. He knows about the gist, just not the extents I've gone to protect him and Colt.

  "Did you want to shower? Colt wedged a towel in the door, allowing us both access if need be."

  He shakes his head. "I'm not sure what I want right now, but seeing either of you isn't on my list of wants."

  With a heavy sigh, I head for him. Forcing him into a hug, I squeeze him tightly. "I love you, Pru. No matter what."

  And with that, I leave him be.

  Fucking Lennox DeLeon. He'll be hearing from me.

  We aren't fucking kids anymore.

  This war ends now.

  I don't knock. I know the entrance by heart. It's ingrained in me, just like every other Arcadia founding family. Oderint dum metuant. Let them hate so long as they fear.

  Entering the back of the cabin, I scrunch my face in displeasure. It smells of dust mites, mold, and old age. Obviously, the guys haven't been getting the maid here. That's what happens when Jordan is the new boss around the block. Unlike Cassidy, he’s not a neat freak.

  I head to the main floor, knowing where everyone hangs out. After everything that's happened, I'll be amazed if Lennox or Jordan aren’t here.

  When I hit the top of the stairs, I’m met with Lux.

  My worst enemy.

  That’s a stretch, though, isn't it? Enemies would insinuate he matters, and he doesn't. He's hot, the one thing I’ve been enthralled by, but he’s ugly, too, and spoiled, angry, explosive. All toxic traits that have driven me to the brink over the course of our lives.

  "The fuck are you doing here?" he practically spits. Hatred ripples around him, his body heaving with each stomp of his feet. He would look like a child if he wasn't such a brute.

  "We need to settle this shit, DeLeon. This can't go on. We have duties, people to protect, and lives we don't want cut short."

  He scoffs, derision tracing every part of him. "There's no way in goddamn hell I'll ever forgive you."

  "Forgive me?" I bark, laughing haughtily. "What about me?"

  He's the betrayer. The fucking Judas.

  "Yes!" He closes the distance, and agony unfogs my brain. Grabbing the lapels of my polo, he breathes heavily in my face. "You told him!"

  "What are you talking about?" My voice rises to match his tenor. If he wants to yell, I'll throw it back. This is bullshit.

  He drags me with him toward the pain wall. It's big enough to make every member flatten against while we take hazing and punishments. Our parents would deny it, but there's something to say about the design.

  "Maxim!" he practically cries. I've never witnessed heartache as heavy as the one in his eyes. "You're the reason he's fucking dead!"

  My shoulders drop of their own accord, almost as if defeat is their only answer. Turbulent anguish prods at my chest. Maximillian Edgington. Lennox's first love. The guy I crushed on first. Lux won his heart. I only ever got scraps of his dick when he was bored with Lux.

  Which brings us to our shared hatred.

  He got what I wanted, but he never truly had him. Neither of us did.

  No matter the loathing, I would never get Max killed. In the end, I wanted him to pick me, to decide my dick felt better, tasted sweeter, and to realize my body would suffice.

  We were both fooled.

  "I wouldn't have—"

  "Shut up!" he spits, his voice heady with desperation. We can't bring him back. No one is that powerful. Not in this reality. "You were jealous."

  I nod, admitting it aloud. "But I'd never get him killed for it."

  "You fucked him, didn't you?" he hisses, almost as if the words brought him pain. "He let you." My face flames, the redness and insurmountable heat burning my skin with discomfort.

  "I did."

  Unwilling to offer more, I just let him breathe his hatred into me. Then, I notice Lux's tears, the absolute devastation. For some reason, it hurts me seeing him like that. I want to ease his torment, to soothe his distress, and it comes from nowhere, but all at once.

  "Why was I not enough?" he painstakingly asks. His shoulders slump, and he leans into my neck like a lover would. Shakes rack his frame, making him move against me gently, with more sorrow that my heart knows how to handle.

  "I wasn't either. Max wasn't a monogamous kind of guy."

  Neither are we, I want to supply. It's true. We share a girl. The lot of us want one, and she wants all. Somehow, along the way, we'll have to decide if she's worth the fighting, testosterone, and heartbreak because, let's be honest, loving one girl who only has three available holes and one heart isn't exactly a recipe for happiness.

  "I hate you for him not loving me back," he admits against
my neck. His lips are so close, and the heat from his exhales has me warm in ways that make zero sense.

  How can sex drive a person as much as it does all of us? We're always in this twisted lustful bubble.

  His mouth being this close to my pulse makes me want things like his teeth grinding into the skin, his lips sucking and marking me, and his tongue tracing my freckles like his own personal puzzle.

  "W-what are we doing?" he stumbles over the words. It's a whispered thought, something airy and fervent, a promise of something further.

  "We're working out our differences," I explain.

  Turning my head, our lips connect. His are a lot softer than I expected. The air whooshes out of me as we stand there, mouths locked, chests pressed against one another, the hardness of our dicks too near to ignore but too far to do anything about.

  "You taste like regret," Lux whispers against my lips. "I've never wanted a flavor more."

  He pushes into me, forcing me against the wall. His erection grinds against mine, bringing a moan out of us both. I haven't been with a man since Max. Not again after he died, I've promised myself only pussy, and I've only shared with Pru.

  Right now, in this moment, Lux is mine to take. Not someone or something to share with my twin.

  We fight for power, his teeth digging into my already split lip. Copper fills my senses, bleeding into my taste buds, and I can only growl in response. It isn't until a loud cat call sounds out that I realize we've been locked in an embrace that could easily end both our lives.

  We break apart, shuffling to adjust. When our eyes connect with our intruder, Lux swallows loudly and has the amicable sense to look ashamed, but I don’t.

  I’m not scared of my ex-lover’s little brother, and I'm sure as hell not regretting tasting Lux for the first time. Hatred is sweet, like a nectar of temptation and promise of damnation, a sinful duo I'd partake in every day, even if it promised perdition.

  "Jordy," I sound out grumpily, wishing my balls didn't feel swollen to the brink of pain.

  "Jay," he bites out. "Looks like we're both addicted to my brother's ex plaything." His nostrils flare, the only thing showing his true animosity. "Did Lux tell you I suck a mean cock?"

  With that, the room fills with the rest of the Emeralds. My stomach rumbles with worry. We all have explaining to do.

  We all have secrets.

  We are all several words away from death.

  Cassidy, if we could have protected you, we would have. You would have saved us all from what's to come. Too bad trust isn't a shield we all carry. It’s, just a pool noodle in a sword fight to the death.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Nine

  Past

  Jordan

  "Your father is calling," Jewel, my house lady, announces as she interrupts my sunbathing.

  It's been like this for the last two years, him calling me while I’m in another country, being the invisible son. My brother is the golden child, the one meant to rule, and I'm the disappointment. These are the words that play over and over again in my mind. My father's words.

  Taking a deep inhale of my joint, I grab the offered phone, wondering what he's called to yell at me for. It's been nearly five months since he's called. He doesn't care what I do as long as the Edgington name isn't used.

  It's bad enough we've been erased from the Emeralds' history. It's not like that for the others, though. We did it out of safety and lack of numbers, but the others broke the rules, muddied the bloodline, and risked it all for some preconceived notion of power or love.

  Ridiculous concept, if you ask me.

  "Father," I answer, holding the phone a little too tightly. The realization that he's calling in any respect is hard on me. He's never nice, and all I ever wanted was to please him. Hard to do when he hates the very oxygen I use to breathe.

  "Son," he quips, almost like he needs to have the first true word. Calling me son is a good way of throwing me off. "It's time you came home, don't you think?"

  The smoke I'd just inhaled threatens to make me keel over at his words. Home? He wants me home? I sputter around the smoke. Unlike a normal father who would ask if I was all right or to stop drinking and do drugs because it's bad, he doesn't say a thing. If not for his breaths in my ears, I would have thought the call dropped.

  "Sir?" I question, not wanting to seem illiterate but also unsure of what the fuck is actually happening.

  He just told you to come home. Don't fuck it up. That desire to please him and be who he needs me to be burns inside me. It's a festering disease, waiting for the moment to overcome my body and steal every ounce of sanity left before it kills me off.

  "Don't be stupid, Jordan. I said it's time to come home. Pack your things, and fly back tonight."

  I swallow the lump in my throat. "I'll pack and head out," I reply, knowing that questions are a waste of time. Time is money, and money feeds his pockets, so he's not too keen on wasting a single second.

  "Good. See you soon." He hangs up before I can respond, but even hearing the darkness and deep baritone of his voice has me in a fog.

  It's been so long since I've seen Maxim, since I've spoken with Mother and my friends. Shit, are they my friends anymore? I've been gone so long it's almost as if I'd been painted with Wite-Out covering every inch of my existence.

  By the time I'm landing on our private airstrip outside of Arcadia Township, I'm a ball of nervous energy. How does one reemerge without the knowledge of what has passed in the time gone?

  I'm escorted to the family's sedan and shuttled home.

  Home.

  For the last few years, that's been Italy. It's been work, school, and whatever Father deemed fit for a black sheep.

  The Edgington Manor comes into view, making my heart race with trepidation. This place is the root of all of my despair.

  The place where I was a burden.

  Useless.

  Stripped of all things that label me as a son of Elijah Edgington.

  "Master Jordan," Dane announces when he opens the door for me.

  I don't smile. It's Dane who packed me up, telling me my life was basically gone.

  He stares at me with neutrality. It's a disgusting, emotionless mask, one to hide him from culpability.

  I don't respond to him, instead making my way to the entrance to face what waits for me. I have no clue what to prepare for. Father didn't sound irate or nervous. If anything, he sounded bored, controlled, as he usually does.

  "He's in the boardroom, sir. Announce yourself before entering."

  With an eye roll and annoyance, I walk toward my father's meeting area. Dane calls it the boardroom, which is physically correct, but he also left out the fact that it's also basically a dining room with office-type materials.

  Two knocks are all I offer before saying, "Jordan, sir."

  "In."

  His callous words shouldn't surprise me. My father is as stiff as a corpse in a fucking morgue. That's not only around me. He doesn't have a heart. He lost it a long time ago, along with his soul, and he’s taking mine and Maxim's with him too.

  "Seems things have changed, Jordan," he says nonchalantly. "Take a seat."

  The room is probably half a football field in size. The table is capable of sitting at least thirty members of his team. The windows are drawn, bleeding in the soft sunlight of afternoon. Father sits at the farthest end, the head of the table. Not knowing whether he wants me beside him or as far as possible, I wait for him to command my place.

  "Here is fine. Stop wasting my time."

  Of course. His calling me home, forcing me rather, is a waste of his time.

  I sit beside him, wondering what could possibly have changed so suddenly that he's willing to offer me my place back home. There's so much to adapt to. Life isn't what it once was. Not even people will be.

  "Your brother has disgraced the bloodline, which means you're unfortunately my only hope to produce an heir, carry the Edgington name, and rule the kingdom."

  Rule
the kingdom. He pretends I'm a prince, a victor on the bouts of war, slaying enemies. In reality, every founding family in this godforsaken town is a puppet, one to be bent, sewn, and ruined by their lineage.

  "What has changed?" I ask.

  I know he said Maxim disgraced our bloodline, but there are so many ways in which he could do that. I need answers, something to grasp onto and know where to go and what to avoid.

  He finally looks up at me with malice. It's always hatred in his eyes. Between my being the soft spot in mother's heart and my being the soft-hearted boy I've always been, it kills him to be around me.

  I'm weak.

  Spineless.

  A disappointment.

  "He's bedded another male."

  Bedded. Another. Male. Fuck. Maxim, you stupid dick. My heart hammers, slicing me open with each smack of the insatiable gavel. I kept his secret, one I mostly forgot simply because it was a protecting manner. If I forgot what he confided in me, I would never mutter it aloud when angry, or in spite, or because it's something that's always intrigued me.

  Men in founding families aren't allowed to be gay. It's not out of homophobia, either. Our town is very progressive. It has everything to do with the production of heirs.

  Production because they're dolls. Pawns. Chess pieces for the cause.

  Maximillian Edgington. The perfect heir had a secret as deadly as the plague. Gayness. He didn't want women, or babies, not even a future. He wanted a specific man, one I'd heard things about over the years.

  "Where is he?" The question feels like sandpaper in my throat.

  "He's dead, Jordan," he enunciates the word dead as if it's a disgrace and not a sadness. It's like him to brush emotions off as impotence instead of a loss. He didn't lose his son, did he? He lost his money bags, the person to drive his fortune higher and higher, the one who kept him powerful.

  Now, all that's left is little ol' me, the misfit with a heart too soft to kill.

  "Carrying on," he proceeds without batting another eyelash. "You are to be enrolled into Arcadia. We have been given the mission to reveal which founding children have disobeyed the blood oaths our forefathers gave."