Bully Me (Willow Heights Prep Academy: The Elite Book 1) Page 7

  “You’re fucking with the wrong family,” I tell him. “And please keep your drunk mother away from my dad.”

  His brows draw together and his lips tighten. At last, a reaction.

  “I could say the same thing,” he grinds out. “Keep your lecherous dad away from my mother.”

  “Well,” I say, adjusting my ponytail over my shoulder. “I guess that’s one thing we can agree on. Our families don’t mix.”

  “Deal.”

  Royal has returned from his car, and he frowns when he sees me talking to Devlin. “Come on, Crys,” he says, tucking a protective arm around me and steering me away.

  We all start up our driveway, Mrs. Darling’s pink-clad ass twitching with every step as she marches in front. Curious to see if Devlin’s following, I glance back over my shoulder. I can’t help myself.

  He watches us go with cool detachment, as if he’s above it all. Standing alone in the road, his shoulders straight and broad, his head held high, he looks every inch royalty. More than royalty. The sun lights him up like a golden god.

  He doesn’t take a single step in our direction, but he doesn’t walk away, either. Something inside me pulls tight when I see him standing there alone. I wonder if under that chiseled stone exterior, he aches to join us. He knows he can’t fraternize with the enemy, though. I remember what it’s like to be on top, to know you can’t join others because it means vacating your throne. If you do that for even a minute, someone else might take it. My brothers are lined up to take Devlin’s right now.

  As I tear my eyes from Devlin, I can’t help thinking, I’m more like him than he knows—more than I’ll ever let him know. I know the fear, how it eats you up. It’s lonely at the top, even for an unsmiling, cruel god.

  ten

  I walk into my room an hour later and nearly scream with shock.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I whisper, shoving the door closed quickly, instinctively. I don’t know why I’m hiding Devlin, or why he’s here, or why I know my brothers can’t see this, except that I don’t want them to go to prison for murder.

  “About time,” Devlin says, sitting up and swinging his legs off the side of my bed, where he was reclining on the pillows like a king. “I’ve been waiting for an hour.”

  “Why are you in my room?” I whisper-shout, gesturing to the door. “My brothers are going to straight murder you.”

  He looks less than concerned. “How many pillows does one bed need?” he asks, tossing one of my pillows into the air and catching it. “I mean, even if you want to sleep upright, you’ve got more than enough. What do you use all these for?”

  “Give me that,” I hiss, snatching for the lavender silk accent pillow.

  He tucks it under his arm and leans over on his elbow, trapping it under him and grinning up at me. “And aren’t you supposedly in the mafia? You should be used to finding strange things in your bed, right? It’s better than a horse’s head.”

  “How did you even get in here?” I demand.

  “You should really think about locking your window,” he says, gesturing lazily to my window, where the curtains sway gently in the breeze. He removed the screen, leaving the window open onto the balcony. He must have climbed the outside staircase while we were all inside, which is pretty goddamn ballsy of him.

  “You need to leave,” I say, my heart hammering in my ears. It takes everything I’ve got not to shrink back against the door. He came into my room and waited an hour for me, maybe went through my things. What kind of psycho does that?

  “First, tell me what they’re talking about,” he says.

  “Who?”

  “Our parents,” he says, as if I should know.

  “I don’t know,” I say, throwing my hands up. “Nothing. Boring shit.”

  “Like what?” Devlin asks, his eyes hardening.

  I sigh. “They’re reminiscing about high school.”

  “I thought I told you to keep your dad away from my mom,” he says through clenched teeth. “In fact, keep your whole family away from mine. I don’t know who you think you are coming in here and fucking with us, but if you don’t stop, you’re going to regret it.”

  “She’s the one in our house,” I pointed out. “You’re the one who climbed in my window. I think you’re the family that needs to stay away from ours.”

  “Your dad tried this shit before,” Devlin says. “It didn’t work then, and it won’t work now. Keep him away from us.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He stares at me for a long minute, as if he doesn’t believe I don’t know this. His shades are pushed up on top of his head, and suddenly, I wish they weren’t. I don’t want to see his eyes, don’t want to see the way they see right through me, through all my defenses. I’ve never been alone with him, and I suddenly, it feels terribly dangerous.

  Devlin’s lips curl into a cruel smirk, and I know for sure that he saw into me.

  “Are you afraid of me, Crystalline?” he asks, springing up from the bed and crossing my room in three strides.

  “No,” I say, backing up a step.

  He fills the space. His presence fills my whole room, sucks up all the air and leaves me breathless. He backs me against the door, his neck arching to look down at me, his fingers curling around my throat in a hold that’s just barely more than a caress, just barely less than a threat.

  “You should be,” he whispers, the corners of his mouth curving into that sadistic smile.

  “Well, I’m not.” My pulse flutters against his fingertips but I won’t give in that easily. I grip his wrist to pull it away, but the harder I pull to remove it from my throat, the harder he squeezes.

  “Let tonight be a warning,” he says. “Stay the fuck away from my family. Be the good dog I know you can. Because if you don’t, I will make your life a living nightmare. I will make you wish you weren’t alive at all.” He strokes my cheek gently with his free hand, lifting my chin with his other. “I will strip you bare, and I’ll make you beg for me even though you know I’ll break you so good you’ll be begging me to stop. But I won’t stop. I will break you piece by piece until there’s nothing left of you but sugar crystals, my sweet.”

  He strokes my lower lip, and a rush of tingles sweeps over my skin even as he holds me pinned to the door. He steps forward, until there’s only a whisper of space between our bodies, a gulf that’s charged with a hot electricity that races through my whole body. I inhale the scent of him, like freshly mown grass with a hint of leather and the intoxicating, dizzying aroma of boy sweat. I want to be grossed out, but I nearly swoon when I inhale him.

  “You’re sick,” I whisper, my fingers shaking as I squeeze his wrist, my nails biting into his skin.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips so close to mine I’m not sure if the heat I feel is his skin or just his breath. “You have no idea.”

  I squeeze harder, my nails sinking so deep they break the thin skin on the inside of his wrist. He sucks in a breath, and his eyes flash with something unreadable, something I take as anger.

  “You made me bleed,” he growls. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I—I’m sorry.” I cringe backwards, but when Devlin’s gaze fixes on my lips, I realize he’s not pissed. His eyes are clouded with lust. My own body responds, my thighs hot even though every part of my brain is screaming for me to run.

  “Disobey me, little mongrel,” he purrs. “I dare you. I’ll enjoy watching you shatter.”

  His lips brush over mine, a touch as light as the flutter of a butterflies wing, and a hot shiver of pleasure ripples through my traitorous body. My eyelids fall closed, and I tilt my head up before I have time to think.

  His response is a cruel chuckle. “Oh, no,” he says, stepping back to put distance between our bodies. My eyes fly open, and shame burns through me. Devlin’s hand still grips my jaw, and triumph lights his eyes. “That’s all you get, little dog. Now run and tell your brothers they’re fucking with the wrong
people. No one can replace the Darlings in this town. You can take my word for it, or you can learn the hard way.”

  He turns on his heel and is out the window in three seconds flat. I hear his soft footsteps on the balcony as I sink down against the inside of my door, closing my eyes and trying to catch my breath. My heart has been racing for so long I feel sick, and my limbs are shaking. And oh god, I hate myself for falling into his trap so easily. I hate my heart for pounding when he’s near; I hate the butterflies that swarm in my belly until I’m dizzy when I catch a trace of his scent. I hate that when I look into his eyes, I see more than a privileged, arrogant asshole. I see someone who’s more than he lets people know, someone who bleeds and hurts like the rest of us.

  When I look into his eyes, I don’t just see a monster. I see myself.

  eleven

  They must have a weakness. That’s what my brother says. It’s a house of cards. Take one out, and the whole thing folds. We just have to figure out what it is before they figure out our weakness.

  The problem is, I think it’s too late. Devlin already knows the Dolces’ weakness.

  Me.

  The next day, we arrive to find the Bel Air in our parking space, the one Daddy’s big donation bought us. “Is he really going to fuck with us after he wrecked my car?” Royal fumes.

  Devlin’s words the night before play through my mind, and I grab his arm. “Just leave it,” I plead with my brother. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a parking space, for fuck’s sake. Are you really going to get suspended over something so stupid? Come on. Just park somewhere else and ignore them.”

  Royal’s nostrils flare as he glares at the shiny, powder-blue classic convertible in his spot. I have to admit, it’s a really nice car. Considering the shape the Range Rover’s in after last night, I don’t blame Royal for being pissed to see it sitting there in his spot, rubbing salt in the wound. Still, I don’t want my brothers anywhere near the Darlings. I’d rather just make peace and move on.

  “We’ll deal with him later,” King says to Royal, pulling into another parking space. I relax just a bit, hoping that my brothers can see how petty and ridiculous it is to fight over one parking spot when the rest of the lot’s wide open.

  The Darling’s sit on their car, like usual. Dolly is standing against her pink Barbie pickup with another girl, both of them watching the Darlings while talking, obviously pretending they’re not watching the boys. As we approach, they stop pretending and watch us openly, like everyone else who’s still hanging around the lot.

  “Back where you belong today,” Devlin drawls with a bored smirk on his lips. Lips that make butterflies explode inside me when I look at them.

  Damn it.

  “Ignore him,” I hiss, grabbing Royal’s arm and squeezing.

  “Out back by the Dumpsters,” Preston adds over the head of a girl who’s wrapped around him like some kind of parasitic vine.

  Devlin told me to leave his family alone, but apparently that doesn’t go both ways.

  And then his words from last night echo through my head. “I dare you…”

  Is he goading my brothers, hoping we’ll react so he can take it out on me? This has nothing to do with me. I shouldn’t even be walking in with my brothers. If I separate myself from them at school, the Darlings will have to see that I’m not part of this little game they have going.

  “I’m going to find Dixie,” I tell my brothers. “I’ll find you guys later.”

  I hurry away, leaving them to figure out the parking issue with the Darlings. I’m not going to get caught up in this ridiculous power struggle over a parking space. I want nothing to do with it, especially until my heart stops flopping like a fish every time I hear Devlin’s name, or see his smile, or remember the smell of his skin as he leaned close…

  I do a great job of avoiding Devlin first period, but when I arrive in lit, Colt pats the seat beside him. He sits sprawled in his chair, his legs out in the aisle like a desk can’t contain him. “Sit, Sugar,” he says with a big, easy grin.

  “I can’t,” I say with a tight smile.

  “Your brothers have you on a short leash,” he says, still grinning like it doesn’t matter. But I hear an edge of challenge in his voice, a tone that scares me more than Devlin’s heart-stopping glare. Because as much as Devlin intimidates me, Colt tempts me. He tempts me to do something reckless, something deadly.

  “It’s not my brothers,” I say. “It’s your cousin.”

  Turning, I hurry to an empty desk. Just as I’m about to sit, Colt slips into the seat.

  “Seat’s taken.” He grins up at me, that challenge still there, growing stronger now. I stare back at him, not moving. The truth is, I want to accept that challenge. I want to step over the line, do something wild and dangerous. I want to defy Devlin, to prove he doesn’t scare me, even though he does. To show myself, if I can’t show him, that he doesn’t control my life.

  But that would be asking for it.

  “What are you doing?” I demand of Colt.

  “Seat’s taken,” he says again, leaning forward and bracing a forearm on the desk. Hard, ropy muscle threads along his arm, fine threads of golden hair shining against his tan skin.

  “Fine.” I sigh and move to sit down in the next row, but he slips around the back of his seat and drops into the one I’m aiming for. By now, we’ve drawn the attention of a few people. They all watch, waiting for something.

  Maybe the signal to start barking at me.

  Fuck. I’d better bore them before that happens.

  “What do you want?” I hiss at Colt, gritting my teeth and trying not to look around at the expectant faces in the class.

  He pats the seat beside him. “You can sit here.”

  “I’m not sitting beside you.”

  “Okay.” He smiles up at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Despite the lazy, stoner vibe he puts off, there’s something calculating and hard in his gaze. He won’t give up, I realize. Not until I obey.

  And really, what will it hurt? This is silly—running around the class playing some stupid game of musical chairs. I can just sit where I did yesterday and ignore Colt. I spin, flicking my hair over my shoulder at him, and march over to the empty seat. I drop into it before he can reach it. I’m being as immature as he is. I could have just sat beside him where he is. But if the only power I have is to make him come to me, that’s what I’ll do.

  A second later, he slides in next to me. “Hey, Sugar,” he says. “Glad you came around to my way of thinking.”

  The relaxed, easy grin belies the iron will I saw behind those grey eyes a second ago. But I won’t forget it’s there.

  “What do you want?” I whisper, leaning low and turning my head toward him so prying eyes can’t decipher my words.

  “Can’t a hot guy want to talk to a pretty girl?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to my irritation.

  “Not when their families want to kill each other.”

  “You want to kill me?” he asks with feigned surprise.

  I grit my teeth. “Right now?”

  Colt laughs, a big easy laugh. He may look no more harmful than a big, friendly golden retriever, but I saw the determination in his eyes. I know there’s more to this guy than meets the eye.

  If he’s going to play that game, then I’ll play along. I don’t know his reasons, but if he doesn’t want people to know he’s more than a laid-back flirt, who am I to blow his cover? I know all about hiding behind a facade, about having to be a certain way because that’s what people want and expect. And I know that if he wanted to share more with me, he would have done it instead of deflecting with a flirtatious comment.

  So, I let it go. When he nudges me during class, I look down to see a sheet of paper edging onto my desk, his lazy scrawl covering multiple lines.

  If our families want to kill each other, we could def be Romeo and Juliet.

  I can’t help but smile. I want to be mad at him for manipulating me into sitting with him, but I can’t
. Even if I don’t know his reasons, and I don’t trust him, that doesn’t mean I have to spend the whole class being miserable or angry. I can keep my guard up and still have a little fun flirting with a cute boy. It’s not like I ever got to do that back home.

  Hm, I don’t like our chances.

  I push the paper back to him. He cracks a smile and leans over the paper to scribble an answer. I try not to admire the broadness of his shoulders, the plane of his back as he bends to write.

  If you don’t want to die young, we’ll rewrite the ending.

  I snort and send back a quick response. You can’t rewrite the end of R&J. That’s what makes the story.

  He scoots down in his desk and squints at the teacher for a minute, seeming to think. Then he smiles to himself, straightens, and begins to write. I find my heartbeat picking up just a bit, anticipation building as he formulates his answer. I watch the smile twitching at the corner of his lips, and I find myself holding back a goofy grin of my own. The high of flirting with him is heady and intoxicating. A dangerous thrill goes through me when I realize my brothers won’t know. No one at this school is going to run and tell them if a guy is flirting with me. Especially not a Darling.

  But his cousins might know. He might tell them.

  The thought sends a shot of adrenaline charging through me. Half of me is terrified he’ll tell Devlin. The other half thrills at the thought of what he’ll do if I disobey him. Will he come through my window again, shove me up against the door? Will he do more than threaten this time?

  My heart is hammering, and I feel my face flush at the image.

  Stupid heart. Stupid body. Stupid imagination.

  Colt folds the paper in fourths and slides is back, pushing it under my hand. His fingers brush my skin and linger until I look up and meet his eye. He winks and retracts his hand.

  We’ll write our own story. We can call it Homey-O and Drooliet. Totally fitting right?

  I roll my eyes. Let me guess. Because you’ve all decided I’m a dog.

  No. Because you drool a little every time you see these guns.