Kings of Lockdown: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep Book 2)

by Caroline Peckham

  “I don’t belong to you,” she snapped and I laughed.

  “Yeah you do, baby. Vow or not. You can feel it just as surely as I can. Besides, it’s like you said the morning after we all killed a man for you - I’m yours too. So as far as I see it, we’re even on that front.”

  Her eyes narrowed but she didn’t start yelling, so I was taking that as agreement.

  “I’m guessing the bathtub relates to you having to sleep in it before I insisted you got a bed?” I asked. In all honesty, I’d hated that fucking arrangement from day one and I had been the one to put an end to it, but I was willing to admit I was still culpable for the nights she’d spent in there.

  “Yes,” she growled.

  “And you want revenge for that?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Alright then. Do your worst.”

  I tossed the diary aside and reached out to release her arms from the belt. She scrambled out from beneath me, massaging her wrists as she narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously.

  “You’re willing to let me get even?” she asked like she sensed a trap, but I was so fucking tired of all the family shit I’d been dealing with recently that I was just glad of the distraction.

  “You’ve been fighting three on one for months now,” I said casually, offering her a shrug. “And you’ve still managed to scratch a whole lot off of your little list. So I’m willing to give you the upper hand for once. Besides, you’re too hooked on me to do any lasting damage, so I’m not too worried.”

  She bristled at that assessment and I hid my smile beneath my thumb.

  “I’m not hooked on you,” she assured me.

  “Sure you are,” I replied, leaning back against the foot of my bed and gazing at her across the mattress. “You’re hooked on hating me right now instead of wanting me. But whatever way you cut it up, I’m on your mind all the damn time. It’s two sides of the same coin.”

  She tutted dismissively, but she didn’t outright deny it again. Couldn’t. The truth spoke for itself. We might drive each other insane most of the time, but here we were. Facing off. Again. It was a cycle that just wouldn’t quit and I didn’t fucking want it to.

  “How about you give me something instead of me punishing you,” she said slowly, licking her lips as her eyes got that steely glint in them which made me fucking ache for her. “It’s not like you give a shit about pain or humiliation anyway, so that won’t hurt you. What I want is something real. Something you don’t want to give me. A single truth – one that matters.”

  I pushed my tongue into my cheek as I considered that, wondering why she wanted to play this game with me again. Why she cared about getting to know more about me at all. The most frustrating thing about it was that she was right, I didn’t really give a shit. I didn’t care when she’d slathered me in fish paste in front of the whole fucking school. I didn’t care when that tape of me covered in syrup and tampons had circulated around everyone I knew (and even though she hadn’t admitted to that one, I knew it had been her). Physical pain just got me high on life. The only things that really touched me were the weapons she’d already wielded against me, the darkness of my truth which had the power to cut deeper than anything else ever would.

  “So was your offer just bullshit then, Kyan? You don’t really want me to get even at all. You’re willing to let me punish you in ways that won’t affect you because you don’t care about them, but you just hate the idea of giving me anything else that’s real, don’t you?”

  “Fine,” I grunted, willing to admit to my own bullshit.

  But I didn’t know what to tell her. The worst of my truths came unbidden to my lips and for a second, I wondered if I should just tell her. Blurt it out, rip the band-aid off and accept the fact that she’d never again look at me the way I ached for her to. Because wasn’t everything else between us a lie while I hid that? Shouldn’t I just fucking get it out there, tell Saint and Blake too and let them choose their own feelings on it even if it left me abandoned and alone? But I couldn’t do it. And maybe that made me a fucking coward, but I was pretty sure that if Tatum Rivers ever looked at me the way I looked at myself, I’d break into a thousand fucking pieces and never find a modicum of peace again in my entire miserable life.

  I hesitated for so long that she rolled her eyes at me, getting up and retrieving her diary from the floor and making a move towards the door. But I couldn’t let her go, snatching her free hand into my grasp and looking up at her as her brows rose expectantly.

  No, I couldn’t tell her about the worst of me or my family or Royaume D'élite. But I could lay myself bare for her in another way. I could let her see what I saw when I looked at her.

  I got to my feet and lifted the mattress, grabbing the closest sketchbook from beneath it and flipping it open, leafing past tattoo designs until I found a sketch of her. It was a pretty fucking perfect sketch actually. From the night we’d initiated Monroe. She looked like a goddess as she stood before the sacred stone, her body painted with handprints and a crown upon her head as I knelt at her feet. In the image I’d drawn, firelight brightened her features and enhanced her beauty while my own face was hidden in shadow as I remained beneath her where I belonged.

  Tatum sucked in a breath as she stared at it, her features flickering with more emotions than I could easily count and I turned away from her before I had to watch the moment she realised exactly what that sketch meant.

  I grabbed my uniform from the closet and started pulling it on as she just stood looking at it for the longest time, slowly leafing through more pages, seeing more images of her through my eyes while her fingers began to tremble.

  “Kyan,” she breathed eventually, making me look at her again as I slung my tie around my neck. I kept my chin up, but my walls were up too. She was taking a peek into my damn soul right now and I was too afraid of her opinion on it to face it dead on. “This…you…”

  “You wanted the truth, baby,” I said, giving her a tight smile as I shrugged my blazer on. “So there it is. You told me I was yours once before. And now I’m saying it too.”

  Her lips parted in shock and she clearly had no fucking idea what to say to that.

  “I… you’re mine?” she asked and the way she said it was different to the last time, more of a question, an offer.

  “All yours,” I agreed, buttoning my shirt. “For whatever that’s worth. So are you gonna cross the bathtub off your little list or what?”

  Her gaze fell to the sketchbook in her hand once more and she nodded before flipping it closed again and opening her diary to the list in the back. She used the sharpie I’d given her the fake tattoo with to strike it out and I grinned at her like a cocky asshole. I didn’t even want her to say anything else. Whatever the fuck she came up with wouldn’t lessen the ache in my chest.

  “Kyan,” she began again, looking back up at me.

  “Saint’s gonna lose his shit if breakfast isn’t ready soon,” I pointed out. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell the others about your little revenge plot. Feel free to do whatever the fuck you want to Saint for the clothes. Although I’m not complaining about his choice in panties for you.”

  “Oh there he is,” she said, rolling her eyes at me. “For a second there, I thought you’d forgotten how to be an asshole.”

  “Never,” I assured her, tossing her a wink and striding out of the room so that she could get dressed. We weren’t going to have some deep and meaningful chat over those fucking sketches. She’d asked for a truth not a fucking declaration. And as far as I was concerned, my debt had been paid.

  Saint was coming down the stairs dressed in his school uniform as I reached the body of the church and I ran at him with a feral cry as he made it to the bottom of them, knocking him onto his ass and pounding my fists into him with a cry of laughter.

  “You motherfucker, was it you who screwed with my alarm clock?” he snarled.

  “I know you haven’t gotten laid in a while, brother, so I thought you might enjoy the
show,” I joked and he bared his teeth at me like a fucking animal.

  He cursed me as we rolled across the carpet, calling me a badly bred hillbilly while I laughed in his face and yanked on his shirt hard enough to tear a hole in it.

  Saint punched me in the gut as hard as he could in retaliation and I let him throw me off of him with a bark of laughter as he stormed off back up the stairs to put on a fresh uniform, giving Tatum time to put his breakfast together before he got back. I mis-buttoned my own shirt while he was gone, just to give him something else to freak out over when he returned.

  Tatum offered me a tentative smile like she knew what I’d done and I murmured into her ear that she could always get down on her knees for me again if she wanted to give me a real thank you as I grabbed myself a bowl of cereal instead of making her cook my usual meal. That earned me an elbow to the ribs and I was almost certain we were back to normal by the time we were all walking down the path towards the Acacia Sports Hall where we had an assembly this morning before classes began.

  When we arrived at the hall, the rest of the school were waiting for us to enter first as usual and the Unspeakables moved forward to open the doors for us, but Tatum fell still instead of entering.

  “Come on, Barbie, we don’t have all day,” Saint said irritably, taking her arm to pull her along, but she yanked it out of his grip again as her gaze fell on Freeloader and Squits where they held the doors wide.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded in a loud voice, causing students all around us to fall quiet.

  The Unspeakables looked nervous, glancing between each other and us like they weren’t sure what the protocol was for answering her question, and that fucked up little bit of me which enjoyed watching those assholes squirm perked up his head.

  “Tell you what?” Freeloader breathed and I barked a laugh.

  This was too good. Too fucking good. They thought they’d found an ally in our girl, but they were about to see exactly what I did in her, I could feel it in the air. She was just as dark and twisted as any of us when the circumstances were right and in that moment, she was embracing that side of her.

  “What you did to earn your places amongst the Unspeakables,” Tatum said angrily, almost shouting as genuine hurt shone on her features. “All of those fucked up things you did to deserve this fate.”

  Freeloader’s lips popped open and most of the other Unspeakables recoiled. We didn’t usually make the crimes of the Unspeakables public knowledge and we banned them from speaking about them to protect the people they’d hurt along the way to earn their place in their club of outcasts. It wasn’t right for the girl Bait had abused to have her name dragged through the mud alongside his, or for any of their victims to suffer the same. So aside from a few cases like Squits where a big group of people had been affected by their crimes, not many people knew exactly what the Unspeakables had done to deserve their fates.

  There was a murmuring in the crowd behind us as everyone leaned close to listen in, desperate to unearth these secrets like the hungry sheep they were.

  “It’s not as bad as it seems,” Freeloader muttered. “I did a bad thing, but I’m not a bad person-”

  “What about Pigs wanting to kill those innocent animals?” Tatum demanded. “What about what Deepthroat did?”

  The girl in question lifted her chin at her name and had the fucking audacity to step forward.

  “I’m not like the rest of them,” she insisted and a low growl rumbled in my chest, but Saint’s hand landed on my arm to warn me back. This was Tatum’s fight and we were going to let her have it.

  “You’re one of the worst of all,” Tatum spat, the pure, undisguised hatred on her face impossible to miss as she sneered at the girl who’d assaulted me.

  “Why?” Deepthroat demanded, practically shouting. “Because I liked a guy and he got a bit drunk one night and threw himself at me? Who the fuck punishes someone for giving them a blowjob anyway? You weren’t there that night, Tatum, and I don’t know what he told you, but he was gagging for it, begging me to do it. And then the next morning he just flipped out on me like an utter psychopath and tried to make out that I’d-”

  Tatum punched her so hard that I heard her nose break over the scream that escaped her. Deepthroat fell back into the mud and all of the students surrounding us started shouting in excitement as Tatum leapt on her, beating the shit out of her with a feral cry of rage as Deepthroat screamed for help beneath her.

  But no one tried to help her. Not one single person could have gotten close even if they’d wanted to.

  My blood lit with excited energy as I watched our girl set her wild side loose, my heart thrashing beneath my ribs as I tried to take in the fact that she was doing this for me. That all of that rage and heartache and beautiful fucking fury was on my behalf.

  I let her throw a few more punches before moving forward and dragging her upright again, pulling her back before she killed the bitch and gave all of us a fucking nightmare to fix. There were way too many cellphones pointed this way to contain that shit. Though I had to admit I’d had more than one fantasy about killing that whore before now.

  “Fuck all of you,” Tatum spat, tears spilling down her cheeks as she glared around at the Unspeakables, her gaze fixing on Bait in his white mask as she shook her head in horror like she was just now seeing all of them for the first time. “The Night Keepers have gone too easy on you if you want my opinion. And I hope you all rot in hell for the things you’ve done.”

  She yanked herself out of my arms and strode into the sports hall with the three of us following behind her without a word.

  Tatum didn’t stop until she’d reached our usual spot at the very back of the bleachers, dropping down and staring ahead as we moved to take our seats around her.

  I couldn’t keep the grin from my face as I sat on her right and I pulled her bloody hand into mine, running my thumb over her knuckles and smearing the blood to coat her skin.

  “You see, beautiful,” I breathed, leaning in to speak in her ear so that my words remained hers alone. “You’re just as dark and dirty as the rest of us when you need to be.”

  “Is that a good thing?” she murmured, ignoring the looks the rest of the students were shooting us as they took their seats and looking right into my eyes instead.

  “Yeah, baby. That’s a really good thing,” I promised.

  These days I felt like my skin was itching almost all of the damn time. Like I couldn’t sit still and I needed something to help me take the edge off every minute of every day. There were a few exceptions. Like when I managed to snare Tatum in my arms, make her smile, taste her kisses…or other parts of her body. But those moments were always fleeting, stolen, unsure. Like I was capturing the girl I’d met way back at the start of term every now and then, finding her off guard and slipping past her defences for a brief time. But they always came to an end. And I didn’t even mean because she kept cock blocking me and leaving me aching for her. No, they came to an end before that happened. When she looked at me for long enough to remember all the shit I’d put her through in the name of grief. When she remembered the hateful things I’d done…the fucking gun…

  It was no wonder she was guarded around me. And if I was a better man, I probably would have backed the fuck off. Stopped chasing her, hounding her, obsessing over her and trying to win her back around. Because she deserved better than me. Better than all of us really. In fact, the one clearest reason for that was blindingly obvious: we’d bound her to us in every way we could imagine, through the vow, blood, death but that only proved the worst things about us. No one wanted to love the monster who caged them. But we were all far too selfish to set her free.

  In fact, I knew that if I could find another way to bind her to me, I’d do it in a heartbeat. And another. And another. I’d chain her to this life with us and make sure she never got away.

  But that wasn’t something I could do easily.

  I sat on the couch in The Temple, my jaw gr
inding as Saint cursed the entire world and their mother. In fact, he cursed the cats, the dogs and even the motherfucking fleas. But it did no good.

  Tatum was currently in the library, enjoying her study time with Mila. She had strict instructions not to go anywhere else, not even on a bathroom break until one of us came to pick her up later. We weren’t taking any chances with her safety now. Not while some creep went around campus stalking her, watching her, watching us.

  “You need to start keeping your fucking blinds closed at night,” Monroe snarled, tossing the heap of photographs down in the centre of the coffee table so that they spread across it, giving us a snapshot of moments which we’d all shared with our girl. He looked at them every damn time he came over here, like he thought he’d suddenly spot some clue in them that we’d missed before. Or maybe he secretly liked looking at them. Tatum did look fucking edible in every damn one. But knowing they’d been taken by a creep kinda took the shine off of any appreciation I might have had for them. Plus the look in Monroe’s eyes as he flipped through them wasn’t lust, it was unbridled rage, so fucking forceful that it was easy to see why he was one of us.

  The one on top was the one of me and Kyan going to town on her at once. In the very armchair he was currently sitting in no less. And he didn’t look pleased to have seen that. Not pleased at all.

  “Are you angry about the stalker or about us doing that with her?” I asked curiously and Kyan released a dark laugh.

  “You’re all old enough to do whatever the fuck you want,” Monroe snarled, not answering.

  “There’s no point getting your panties in a twist over it, Nash,” Kyan goaded, reaching out to pick up the photograph of him eating her out on the beach the night Monroe had been initiated.

  With the paint on both of their skin and the crowns on their heads, they looked like a pair of mythical creatures. The king and queen of sex, going at it in the open like they just couldn’t wait for the amount of time it would take to move inside before devouring each other. And I guessed at least that half of the story was the truth.