A Song in the Night (TEMPTED KINGDOM: The Series Book 1)

by Jessa Lucas

  “Even if that means I have to... umm… keep kissing you?” I mean, I didn’t want him to feel used.

  Jude’s eyes sparkled. “Especially if you have to do that.”

  Okay then.

  I lunged at him and he thrust me back against the wall roughly, our lips meeting somewhere in the middle. Hard stone behind me, hard man in front— holy hell, I’d never liked sandwiches this much before. I twisted my leg up around his hip and Jude pushed away my skirts with urgent hands, leaning his hips into me. I ground myself against him, my body rocking into his with the full strength of a totally undeterred siren.

  Oh my god, my heart was going to beat out of my chest. Jude was a proficient kisser, and in the back of my mind I was suspicious that his pillow had borne the brunt of his practice over the last fifty years. I laughed at the ridiculous thought, and Jude kissed me even harder for it, pulling my thigh higher and laying his other hand flat against the wall next to my head. The intoxication of his closeness spiraled through me, his fingers leaving tingles in their wake as they climbed higher up my bare thigh.

  Our tongues met with fervor. I pressed into Jude, willing the memories to invite me into their arms and tell me their secrets. They obeyed.

  “But listen to me bright maiden, proud youth

  The tale is a lie; what it tells is the truth...”

  I couldn’t see him, but his voice rang clearly in my ears. I recognized it from somewhere far away… somewhere different. I could almost picture his face, knew if I only just opened my eyes—

  My eyelids fluttered open and I lifted my face from the shelter of my arms. I blinked a few times. Heads lined the rows before and beside me, and then I remembered I’d just fallen asleep in my last period of the day, English.

  “Psst, wake up.”

  I turned my head to see a guy sitting in the back row next to me. I didn’t remember him being there before, but I obviously hadn’t been paying that much attention. He was tawny haired and bright eyed, like the man I’d begun to envision in whatever strange dream I’d been having. At least, I thought so… it was already fading.

  “What?” I hissed at the new guy.

  “She was about to see you. If you want to take a nap, you should just ditch.”

  I raised my head slowly, trying not to distract the teacher at the front of the class with any sudden movement.

  “I didn’t sleep last night,” I said, trying not to remember the reason why. My bedroom door had been locked, but that hadn’t stopped me from staring at the bright line of light underneath my door for hours on end, heart pounding as our company made himself at home just outside it.

  “Like I said, you should ditch.”

  I straightened my hoodie before looking over at the guy, wondering where he’d come from. Maybe it was just that devilish look in his eyes, but he seemed a little older, like he should’ve at least been in college.

  “It’s not that easy, dude. I have to get out of this town, which means I have to make good grades so I can get into a good school. Hey, give that back,” I hissed as he snatched my book from my desk.

  “It’s hard to get out of here,” the guy said, “but maybe you could do it. I don’t think good grades are the way, though.”

  “I have a 3.9 GPA, thank you very much. Give it!” I held out my hand, but the guy didn’t offer my book back.

  “Is there a problem, Miss Greyson?”

  A thrill shot through my body at the sound of my name. I shook my head quickly, eyes moving away from the boy’s gaze.

  He reached out and put his hand on mine, and for some idiotic reason, I didn’t immediately pull back. Probably I was just too amazed by this guy’s audacity that I’d been shocked into stillness.

  “I’ll give your book back if you meet me at the front gates when the bell rings in three—”

  “That’s manipulation—”

  “Two—”

  “Seriously, give—”

  “One.”

  The flat drone of the school bell reverberated through the halls and my peers shot out of their seats in a flurry of escape, the new guy along with them. I watched him clear out as I considered my options. One: ask my father for money it was unlikely he’d give me so that I could buy a new copy. Two: scrounge up the money myself in some seedy way so that I could buy a new copy. Three: kick this guy’s balls, take the book, and run.

  Option three it was.

  “What’s your problem?” I asked when I finally found him at the gate. Other kids were trickling by, but we stood to the side, my book in his hand like he was teasing me with it.

  “No problem.”

  “Then why would you steal my book? That’s rude.”

  I snatched it back from him and he released it far too easily. I meant to stomp off then and there, but his next words caught me off guard.

  “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

  It took me a second to process this. I’d gotten looks, sure, and undesired passes. But no one had ever said anything like that to me. Finally I managed, “Is there a line that comes with that, or was that it?”

  “That was kind of it.”

  “So you steal my book to get me alone. Good to know guys don’t come up with any new moves in the ten years between pre-school and tenth grade.”

  What an immature asshat.

  But as I looked at him, it couldn’t be more obvious that he wasn’t a child. He was even handsomer out here, with the sun playing in his tawny hair and those dark brows lowered in a smoldering gaze that bewildered me.

  Ugh, I hated myself for even allowing the word to enter my mind. Smoldering.

  No distractions. That was the promise I’d made to myself. I had to get out of here, and with the weird things that had been happening lately... the unwanted attention I found on me...

  I sighed. No distractions was a rule for a reason.

  “Bye. I’ll see you never.” I walked away, not looking back. But I didn’t have to turn around to hear his footsteps catch up to me. “Leave me alone,” I sighed.

  Instead, he skipped in front of my path and took hold of my arms in a weirdly intimate move. Like he knew me.

  I stood stone still, gulping in the feelings of a man’s touch on me. Thank god for the hoodie I always used to cover up. I felt like I’d come on with a bad case of raging hormones ever since I’d hit sixteen a month ago. Something weird was happening in my body, and I felt like every guy around me could zero in on it in an instant.

  “Seriously, I’m sorry for stealing your book. And for making you uncomfortable. I was just teasing.”

  “Because you’re a stupid boy?”

  “Because I’m a stupid boy, and what I said is true— you’re pretty— and I don’t have any better moves.”

  He smiled kindly and I took a deep breath. “Please let go of me.”

  His hands dropped from me instantly and he kind of self-consciously said, “Look, I saw the bruise on your wrist, when you rolled up your sleeve in class. And I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Whispering about it in front of everyone didn’t really feel like the time or the place, so I wanted to ask you when we were alone. Are you? Okay?”

  Oh god, I was going to be sick. I lifted my hands to my stomach subconsciously, trying to push that night from my mind. Trying to suppress the wave of fear that rolled up from my gut into my mouth at the thought of someone finding out what I’d done. What my sick, twisted mind had made me do.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Erin,” I whispered.

  “Erin, do you have anyone you trust?”

  “I can’t tell anyone. It’s my fault.”

  “Hey. Hey, I can promise it’s not your fault. You should tell someone, though— someone you trust.”

  “I’ve told you. There’s no one else.” The guy didn’t know the whole story— the worst part— and he didn’t need to. He already knew enough now.

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  “
What’s yours?” I asked begrudgingly. “Your name?”

  “Jude.”

  “I want to go home now, Jude.”

  “Do you know the way?”

  I looked at him with suspicious curiosity, but he seemed so fucking earnest. “Of course I know the way. It’s home.”

  I began to walk again, and Jude skidded forward to keep up with my quick pace.

  “At the risk of being really annoying, can I ask you a favor? I didn’t read that book, and since you’ve flaunted a 3.9 GPA, think you could help me out with this paper?”

  I stared at him, not believing that I was actually considering this. But honestly, I didn’t like being home alone. This Jude guy, stupid as he was, really didn’t seem like a threat. I supposed he was my confidant now anyhow.

  “Fine. Come on.”

  I creaked the door open, knowing I should feel more self-conscious of my room than I was. It looked the same as it had when I was a baby— or so I’d been told. The eyelet lace curtains certainly seemed about a decade old, but they were all I had left of a mother I didn’t remember. She’d sewn them herself, and I’d never found much comfort in the idea of taking them down.

  “It’s not much,” I told Jude, “but as I said, I don’t plan on sticking around after graduation.”

  I hoped he wouldn’t notice the nightlight in the corner as he sat in the desk chair and eyed my bookshelf. “You like fairytales,” he commented.

  I shrugged. “Apparently my mom collected them when she was my age. They’re a little morbid and cliché for my taste.”

  I had enough to keep me awake at night without throwing images of Cinderella’s step-sisters cutting off their toes into the mix.

  “The dreamer awakes, the shadow goes by

  The tale I have told you, that tale is a lie.

  But listen to me, bright maiden, proud youth,

  The tale is a lie; what it tells is the truth.”

  I raised my eyebrows, trying not to be too impressed. “That’s nice. Did you make it up?”

  “I read it somewhere,” Jude said as he ran a finger over the spines of my other books. “It’s what you’re supposed to say at the end of a fairytale. I like poetry. Sometimes I write it— guess that makes me sensitive and/or pretentious, huh?”

  “That’s cool,” I said, sprawling onto my bed. “I like to sing sometimes.”

  “Sing me something.”

  I shook my head. Worst idea ever, Jude.

  “Art is a powerful thing for expression,” he said. “It’s good that you sing. You probably find a part of yourself when you do.”

  “It’s good that you write poetry,” I raised my eyebrows, finding the approval of this stranger thoroughly amusing.

  Still, it felt super awkward to have a guy in my room. I couldn’t think of the last time I’d had anyone over, but even the weirdness felt kind of nice. It was almost like having a friend.

  “So what’re you going to do? Go to Harvard for songwriting or whatever?”

  “Music won’t get me out of here,” I sighed. “There’d be no point in trying to get a good GPA just to end up a starving artist.”

  “It’s okay to dream, Erin.”

  “What, are you going to go do poetry readings in coffee shops and live off the snaps?” I barked.

  Despite my rough tone, Jude smiled. “Maybe. I don’t have a problem with hope.”

  “Sorry.” I said quietly. “It’s just... I have a plan. And I have to focus,” I moved my hands like an airplane signaler person, trying to convey a singular path. “I have to. My goals are all I have.”

  “You can do that,” Jude shrugged, “or you can do the thing that wakes up who you really are.”

  “What am I going to do? Run away and put a hat on the street?”

  “That’s an option.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “My plan is better.”

  Jude shook his head. “I’m just saying, if things get to that point—”

  “Shhh,” I hissed. Someone was beating at the front door, and fear crept into my body. I didn’t want it. I wanted to be brave, to keep my cool, but I couldn’t stop the fear from coming when I heard his voice.

  “Erin, you make it home? I know school’s out.” Bang bang. “Your dad won’t be home for a while, wanted to check in on you. ERIN?”

  I couldn’t breathe. What if he broke down the door? What if he went for the key under the potted plant by the porch swing? I’d forgotten to move it—

  My imagination ran away, without any consideration for rationality.

  “Erin, you okay?”

  I jumped, realizing it was just Jude. I meant to say yes, but I just found myself shaking my head back and forth over and over again. No. No, I am not okay. And then I heard the worst sound in the world.

  The sound of a key entering the lock.

  “Come on,” Jude said, lifting the window pane and grabbing my hand. It was a good thing he pulled me, because I felt like I couldn’t move, like my legs were made of lead. I followed after him in a daze as he jumped out the window.

  Numb. I was numb as he helped me negotiate my body through our escape exit. Through the window, over the fence, into the woods, and as far away from that house as possible. After a few minutes, we found ourselves in a little cove of trees close to the lake.

  “Thank you for helping me,” I breathed, voice shaky.

  I looked down at our bound hands. My skin tingled where he touched me, a weight shooting straight down through my body. I wanted suddenly, desperately, for Jude to kiss me.

  I yanked my hand from his. “You should stay away from me,” I warned, trying to rein in the trembling of my voice. “I’m not good for you.”

  Jude laughed like I was was making a weird joke. “Well, at the very least, you’re going to be good for my English grade.”

  “I forgot the book.”

  “That’s okay. Paper’s not due for another week. More importantly, are you okay?”

  My mind went blank as I looked at him. Not okay, not okay. But I didn’t know how to say that without saying everything, and if I said everything I’d be even worse.

  I sat down in the grass and covered my face, working my fingers against my temples.

  “What am I going to do,” I sighed.

  “Run away to Los Angeles. It’s where the dreamers go.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It is easy, the leaving part. The choice. It’s the journey that’s hard, but you also get to decide how hard you’ll try. You seem to be trying pretty hard on other fronts, why not this one?”

  “Los Angeles?”

  Jude nodded. “City of angels. That’s the dream for all performers, right?”

  “I’ll think about it,” I shrugged.

  “Better start coming up with your stage name now. Unless you just wanna go by Erin Greyson. That’s a pretty solid name for an indie songwriter,” Jude raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. I could see the extra effort he was putting in distract me from what’d just happened. It was… sweet, I guess.

  “I hate my name,” I admitted, thinking of how many people’s tongues had sullied the sound of it. “I’m thinking of taking my middle name one day. Saylor. I don’t know what it’ll feel like though, to have people call me something different.”

  “Saylor,” Jude said quietly. I eyed the faint smile he offered me, and he looked down bashfully, finally asking, “How’d that feel?”

  “Right,” I whispered. My face had twisted into a frown of consideration.

  Jude sprawled out next to me with a deep exhale, his back on the grass, eyes trained on the sky peeking through the branches above. “Spring is my favorite, everything is so new, so beautiful. Not that beauty is everything, of course.”

  “You called me beautiful,” I said dryly.

  “Yeah, well,” he snorted, “that’s hardly all that I think there is to you.”

  “You don’t know me, like at all,” I retorted.

  “Let’s see... I know that you�
�re a hard worker. I know that you’re goal oriented, and stubborn as hell. I know that you’re sentimental, cause you keep all your mom’s books in your room even though you don’t seem to want to read them. I know you probably like beauty, too, if you’re an artist—”

  “I’m not an ‘artist’—”

  “Sure you are. You create to process. That’s art.”

  “Okay,” I rolled my eyes.

  “And,” Jude finished, “I know you’re really good at keeping secrets.”

  I picked at the grass idly, not sure if he was asking for explanation or just provoking me.

  “Sing for me, Saylor,” he said softly. “Please.”

  “I don’t have a guitar.”

  “So what? You’ve got the wind coming through the trees and the blades of grass brushing up against each other, and that dribble of the fish in the lake. That’s totally a backup band.”

  It felt like bearing my soul, to sing right now with a naked voice and a stranger. But I felt the desire coiled deep within me, ready to spring. Jude was right, of course. I did process through music, through singing. When I sang, it was like I was finding harmony with some part of me that aligned to a purpose. To a greater truth.

  Maybe it would be different with Jude. Maybe last time was a fluke, a terrible concoction of mistakes I could avoid now that I knew better. I needed to sing—

  Before I could think too hard about it and change my mind, I closed my eyes and began to hum.

  I didn’t have words— words were too faulty a thing to place my expression in. I just let the notes carry me through my despair, through my hope, through the pain that had wrapped itself so tightly around my heart. And as I sang, I became braver, and I opened my eyes and I looked at Jude.

  He was smiling, and I smiled back, not a note faltering as he touched my hand again. The tingles danced through me as if in rhythm to the song, and my body erupted in something profound. Something…

  Deadly.

  As I continued to sing, a cavern opened up inside me where something hungry lived. I watched Jude smile at my song, and the something was angry that he just sat there. It wasn’t enough. He was supposed to come to me, to fall at my knees, to bemoan his weakness and worship my power. Instead he just listened, that stupid peacefulness slathered across his face.