Vicious Titan: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Golden Olympus Academy Book 4)

by A. J. Logan

  “It wasn’t like that. She kept telling me not to visit … I just didn’t listen. The thought of her there alone, without anyone, kept me going back.”

  “I told you that you’re her favorite,” he teases. I feel a sense of relief hearing the joke he’s said a million times, mostly when he’d interrupt one of the many art-centered hours I’d spent with Olivia. Whether we were discussing technique, drawing quietly, or just hanging out, I enjoyed every moment spent with her, and he’d always make a point to interrupt, commenting that I was her favorite artsy child.

  “You’re her son. Nothing transcends that.”

  “Unforgivable words might.” His arms release me as he turns, looking to the wall opposite his bed. I don’t have to guess what he’s studying—the dream catcher. I’d hung it on the door leading to his closet last night when I’d arrived. Only he doesn’t know the truth behind his nightmares is far graver than it appears.

  “That says otherwise. She sent it to help you because she loves you. Nothing will change that.”

  “Yeah, well … enough of this mushy shit,” he mumbles, walking towards the bathroom.

  “You promised me.”

  He stops, his back to me. Without a word, he continues walking, steps into the bathroom, and closes the door behind him. I’m not sure what I’d expected him to say. It’s not like he’s in the same frame of mind from last night, but he’s not good. The “mushy shit” is obviously getting to him, but he’s not ready to deal with it. Can’t say I am either. Even so, I need to go home. I’ll be lucky to make it to school on time as it is.

  Hurrying into the closet, I grab a pair of sweats I’d left here at some point. A few of my shirts are folded neatly beside them, but I opt to reach for one of his instead. Damn it. I’m such an idiot, but it doesn’t stop me from pulling the soft T-shirt over my head. When I step out of the closet, the bathroom door is still shut. I grab my phone and keys, moving to the bedroom door. Quietly, I open it a few inches and peek into the hallway to make sure the coast is clear, then slip out. It’s unlikely for Susan to be here this early (or for Richard to be here at all), but I still feel the need to double check that no one arrived for some unexpected reason.

  The entire way home, I feel like I’m heading in the wrong direction. As I steer into the garage, I debate again if I should call him or send a quick message but decide against it. Hurrying through the doorway, I halt in the kitchen when I spot my dad.

  He glances at his platinum watch before studying my appearance, lingering on the large T-shirt that doesn’t belong to me. “Where were you?”

  “At a friend’s house,” I respond. When he gives me a look that says he expects more than a four-word explanation, I continue, “They were having a difficult time last night, and I ended up staying longer than expected.” I knew when I’d left for Elliot’s house that I’d be staying the night. I just hadn’t wanted to waste time getting my things. I was too eager to get to him.

  “Were you at Nathan’s? I know that little girl staying with him is having a difficult time. She has your brother flying off the rails even more so than normal.”

  Obviously, because I’d been a witness to Asher’s tantrum the other night after he picked a fight with our father. “Quinn? No. I wasn’t there. I was at Allison’s.” I respond with the first name I think of because something tells me that if I lie and say I’d been at Nathan’s, he would respond even worse than if I were to tell the truth and say I’d been in Elliot’s bed.

  “Good. It’s probably best you avoid Nathan’s house for the time being. There’s a lot going on, and I don’t want you caught in the middle.”

  I’m too nervous to ask questions so I agree. He said avoid Nathan’s house, so I’m assuming it’s not Quinn he has a problem with. It seems the tension between him and Nathan has returned and is not going away anytime soon. “Yes sir.”

  “Good girl. Get upstairs and get cleaned up.” He tenderly pats me on the arm as I step around him. There’s nothing about his tone or posture that should be alarming, yet there’s an unnerving tension radiating from him, making me want out of the room fast.

  Just as I reach the doorway, he booms my name. My feet slide to a stop as I slowly turn to see a relaxed smile on his face as he says, “There’s a reason you put on your own oxygen mask first when the plane is going down. If you’re gasping for air, unable to get a grip, you can’t be of any use. Even if those around you get theirs on, they could easily turn on you, stab you in the back, leave you to suffocate without any regard. Always take care of yourself first, even if you have to let them suffocate.”

  Nodding, I play along like I understand, but his eerie smile implies there’s so much that I don’t understand. The notion, I get. You can’t help others if you’re not in a good place yourself. But that’s not the indication I got from him. It felt more like claw your way out of the wreckage, even if you have to sacrifice others to do so. That, I’m not okay with.

  Attempting to push the unsettling conversation out of my mind, I hurry to my room, quickly freshening up in the bathroom before pulling on a neatly laundered uniform. Thankfully, there isn’t much time for me to dwell on it because I’m running so late.

  Darting down the staircase, I hurry through the kitchen, greatly relieved when I don’t see my dad. I just want to get to school. I want to see Elliot with his stupid, arrogant smile on his irritatingly charming face. Even though I’d guess it’s fake most of the time, when it’s not there, I know he’s truly in a scary place.

  It’s not long before I arrive at school and am flooded with relief when I spot the NSX, safe and sound in its usual parking spot. Jogging into the building, I stop in the hallway, attempting to catch my breath. When I spot Elliot, he’s got a full-blown smile on his face as he laughs with Wade about something. His eyes meet mine and I see no trace of the person who’d woken up next to me this morning. He’s in happy, cheerful ringmaster mode. Once again, I can’t help but feel like one of his clowns. I worry that not only would I put his mask on first, but I’d offer him mine in addition if he needed it.

  11

  Elliot

  I can’t figure out if she’s upset, confused, or plain fucking pissed as I flash a smile her way. Damn. She’s beautiful no matter what look is on her face. With the exasperated glare she’s throwing at me, I’m leaning more towards pissed. It’s not like I blame her after the way I handled—or rather didn’t handle—shit this morning. The conversation threatened to overwhelm me. All the thoughts of my mom had flooded my mind. It was either cut off the discussion or bawl like a fucking baby at Victoria’s feet.

  She flinches when Grant walks up behind her. He’s saying something to her when his eyes land on mine. I don’t even need to take a step toward him for the smirk to fade from his face. He abruptly snaps his mouth closed and swiftly walks away from her. That fucker still hasn’t learned. I will be sure to reiterate the message loud and clear, once and for all.

  Grant keeps a shit-eating grin on his face as he strolls by. I attempt to move in his direction but Wade’s hand comes up, shoving me in the opposite direction. I need to put my fist through Grant’s face again. Instead, I settle for the next best thing—watching Grant pick up his pace, hurrying his pansy ass away. Pussy.

  “He’s not worth it, dude,” Wade says.

  “No, but that’s not going to stop me from beating the ever-loving shit out of him.” Again. And not soon enough for my liking.

  “Ah, he’s a pissant. It’s comical watching him try to butter his way into Quinn’s pants, but she ain’t having it—not even if Asher would allow anyone to look her way.” Wade laughs but I don’t share in his amusement, unable to find humor anywhere Grant is involved. The news that Quinn isn’t falling for his fuckery is a huge relief. The further away Quinn and Victoria are from the dickweasel, the better.

  “Just let me know if anything changes.” Asher isn’t going to allow anyone, much less Grant, near Quinn but I want to know if there’s even a slight chance it migh
t happen.

  “Will do.” Wade chats away about nothing as we walk to class, the hallway already beginning to clear out. The school day is just starting, but I’m ready to bail. I’d considered skipping school without Victoria, but that was less appealing than being here with her, even if she’s a tad bit pissed at me. Thankfully, this is just a speed bump. There’s hope of removing that pissy stare and replacing it. It dawns on me just how to do so. Saying sorry this morning hadn’t felt like enough, but it was all I could do. Now I’ll gladly say it all day long because she is what I need. She’s my home—my serenity that I can’t exist without.

  Turning, I holler over my shoulder to Wade, “Cover for me. I’m going to be a few minutes late.” It’ll be more than worth it because she’s worth it, and I need her full forgiveness to allow me back in. There’d been moments last night where I could feel her pulling away, both physically and emotionally. And neither set well with me, not when she’s fully ingrained in every piece of me.

  12

  Victoria

  Concentrating on calculus is no easy feat on a good day. Right now, it’s damn near impossible as I attempt to refocus on the quiz before me. That goal is promptly sidelined when there’s a soft knock on the door. The girl who’d delivered Elliot’s crude note last week glances to me before looking to Mr. Sutton as he motions her into the classroom.

  Her beaming face returns to mine as she walks over. My fingers grip the sides of the desk, digging into the hard surface when I notice what’s in her hand this time—a black leather-bound sketchbook. The slips of paper had been horrible, but using the sketchbook to send me hateful messages would be cruel. Is he already back to his old tricks? Even after last night? We might’ve been a little off kilter this morning, but we can’t be back here again, him tormenting me at every opportunity. Can we?

  Stopping beside my desk, she holds out the sketchbook to me. “Hi, Victoria. I was asked to give this to you.”

  Hesitantly, I grab it from her, dropping it immediately on my bag as she turns and exits the classroom.

  “Everything all right, Victoria?” Mr. Sutton asks.

  “Oh, yes.” I hope. Turning my attention back to my quiz, I struggle through the three final questions before walking to Mr. Sutton and placing the paper facedown in the wired basket on his desk. He gives me a closed-lip smile as he nods.

  Slowly I step back to my desk, stiffly dropping into my seat. Not opening the sketchbook to see what he’s written—and I know he wrote something because he’s Elliot—is just as hard as the thought of opening it. Either way, I want to strangle him. Grabbing the sketchbook, I place it on the desk, before sluggishly opening the hard front cover.

  Irreplaceable.

  E

  A genuine smile covers my face as I let out a long breath. The sweet gesture is unnerving, but it’s such a relief that he’s not resorted to being a jerk again. Closing the sketchbook, I struggle with pushing the thought out that the other side of him isn’t that far away and could resurface at any moment.

  It’s not anywhere to be found today, that’s for sure. During every class period, a sketchbook is delivered by a familiar messenger from last week, all referring to me by name instead of “Asher’s sister.” Each book contains a sweet, thoughtful, handwritten word. Each sketchbook brings a smile to my face, especially the one that had Fantastic written in it. Thoughts of us naked in bed together this morning immediately entered my mind.

  I’m so far lost in Bassland by the time the school day ends, six sketchbooks in hand as I head to my car, I’m elated to find the sender himself propped against his car, watching me with a mischievous smirk. It takes me a few seconds to notice the heaping stack of sketchbooks sitting on the roof of my car. Okay. Yeah, I’m loving all the sweet messages, but the sight of all of the books he’s been hoarding makes me want to strangle him. The glower I shoot his way just causes a full-blown grin to surface on his face.

  Opening the door of my car, I toss all the books in as I curse him under my breath. Even when he’s being sweet, he somehow manages to be maddening.

  Dropping into the driver’s seat, I spot him getting into his car as a message dings on my phone.

  Elliot: Your house or mine?

  Me: Yours.

  Elliot: Pizza?

  Me: Yes.

  Elliot: I’ll grab one and meet you at the house.

  He drives out of the lot while I remain parked, watching him disappear down the winding driveway. Reaching over, I grab one of the books that was just added to my growing supply. Flipping the cover open, I read a new word written on the page.

  Magnificent.

  E

  Picking up each new book, I read word after word. There’s not one without an inscription from him. Dropping my head back, I close my eyes, take in a deep breath, and exhale. Hooking my seatbelt, I head to his house.

  I’m distracted when I pull into the garage. So distracted by each and every affectionate word I’ve read today that I don’t notice Susan standing in the doorway until she says my name, causing me to jump.

  “Sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Oh, it’s okay. I didn’t notice your car in the driveway.” I follow her into the house, grabbing a water from the fridge and standing next to the counter as I watch her busy herself in the kitchen.

  “I parked around back to unload some linens at the guesthouse.”

  The mention of the guesthouse sends an ominous shiver down my spine. Grant’s face and the compromising picture he took of me while I was sleeping surge through my mind.

  “I was just about to head out. Are the boys on their way?”

  “Yes ma’am. Pizza run.” I leave out that it’s only Elliot, purposely letting her assume that my brother is also heading here. I’ve done the same each of the few times we’ve crossed paths since I’ve been here without Asher.

  “Them boys have an appetite for sure, so let them know there’s supper in the fridge if anyone wants it.”

  “Sure will.” I smile as she pats my shoulder. Susan has been in the Bass household for as long as I can recall, and I believe she truly cares about Elliot. There’s no way she would allow Richard to hurt Elliot, or Olivia for that matter. Then again, I never thought Richard would be capable of such a thing either.

  Pulling her purse on her shoulder, Susan tells me goodbye, then leaves me alone in the quiet kitchen. The house hasn’t been the same without Olivia, her music, or some noise playing throughout the house.

  Before I realize where I’m at, I push open the door to her art room. It’s the first time I’ve entered it since she’s been in the treatment facility, and it looks exactly the same—she’s the only thing missing. Walking over to a spiral sketchbook sitting on the desk, my fingertips brush across the cold metal wires, unable to peek inside because it feels like an invasion of her privacy even though she’d shown me plenty of her drawings in the past.

  “Victoria.”

  Jumping, I knock over a container of pencils, and they scatter on the floor. I spot Elliot in the doorway, a pained look on his face. “I’m sorry. I was just—”

  “It’s okay.” His voice is strained and he doesn’t move from the doorway.

  Dropping to my knees, I hastily grab the pencils strewn across the floor, trying to return them to their rightful place, but a few slip out of my hand, hitting the ground once more. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be in here.”

  Elliot steps into the room, crouching beside me as I frantically collect the pencils. “Victoria.”

  My hands freeze as I keep my eyes on the floor. He reaches over and gently takes the pencils from my hands, dropping them back on the floor. Hooking a finger under my chin, he lifts my eyes to meet his. A tender swipe of his thumb rubs across my cheek, wiping a tear I didn’t realize had fallen.

  “It’s okay.”

  I almost don’t comprehend his words, expecting him to be angry with me for being in this room, the one Olivia cherished the most. And it makes me feel guilty. S
he’s his mom, but all I can think is I want to see her back in this room again. “I miss her so much.”

  “Me too,” he whispers, gently cupping my cheek in his palm as my eyes close, his warm touch reassuring me, but it should be the other way around. “Come on. Let’s go eat some pizza. I’ll pick this up later.”

  Nodding, I stand, and he leads me out of the room, shutting the door behind us. “I thought you were going to be mad that I was in there.”

  Elliot lifts my hand to his mouth, feathering a light kiss on my wrist. “I’m not mad. I’m so thankful that you’re here, even if you’re making a mess,” he teases, attempting to lighten the mood.

  “Me too,” I reply as we step into the kitchen. The delicious scent of pizza is tempting but my stomach is still in knots, just like my heart and head. I’m all tangled up, for very different reasons, yet all are tied to the arrogant, enticing smile aimed my way. “Thanks for the sketchbooks, by the way.”

  “Eh. I needed to clear out my trunk,” he snickers. Cupping my ass in his hands, he lifts me up, sets me on the counter, then moves forward between my thighs. Tenderly, he brushes a kiss over my lips. Just as usual, he’s sweet and sour, all in the same moment.

  “You’re such an ass. You really did go around town buying all of them.”

  “Sure did. And I have one more to return to you.” Leaning to the side, he grabs an identical book to the ones I’ve been given all day via messenger. This one, he places directly in my hands.

  Keeping my eyes on him, my fingers nervously flip the cover open, wondering if this is a sweet or sour moment as his smile gets tighter. Looking to the paper, I read the inscription. Sweet. It’s absolutely a sweet moment, yet it also brings questions to the surface and pulls the knot in my heart even tighter.