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

by Selena

  I expect Devlin to drink like King, with deliberateness that keeps a drink in his hand at all times but never lets him get out of control. Instead, he chugs his beer and takes another and then another, drinking like he has a death wish and tonight it’s coming true.

  I can’t feel for him, though. Not when he proceeds to parade me around the party letting guys touch me and laughing as I slap the shit out of them. When that gets old, he drags me back to a patio where people are shooting pool and taking shots along an outdoor wooden bar. Music and light spill out into the yard. We lost the other two Darlings, but now I catch sight of Preston supporting a girl who’s staggering so badly she can barely keep her feet as they make their way out into the darkness of the yard. Suddenly, fear clenches in my belly.

  I’ve been enduring this night, telling myself over and over that I just have to get through it. But what then? Devlin is drunk as fuck, Preston is clearly a sociopath, and Colt… I have no idea where he is or what he’s capable of.

  That’s when I spot two adults lounging on plush recliners beside the bar, each with a drink in one hand. They’re wearing matching robes and observing with an air of keen interest. My heart lurches in my chest, and I cross my arms over myself, trying to cover up for the first time since this started. Maybe they can help me, put a stop to this insanity.

  “My, my,” the woman drawls as Devlin leads me to the bar. “What do we have here?”

  “This is my new dog,” Devlin says. “Don’t worry, she’s house broken.”

  The woman throws back her head and titters with laughter.

  “The things you boys come up with,” says the man, shaking his head with an indulgent smile.

  No fucking way. That’s all they’re going to say?

  But I must have been delusional to think they’d help me. They’re letting a hundred minors drink in their house.

  The couple looks about my parents’ age, but any similarity ends there. Mom might be a bit of a lush, but she’d never appear in public in a robe, and she only wears makeup to enhance her natural beauty. This woman wears a full face of makeup and a blonde updo with what looks like enough hairspray to hold up the entire decade of the 80s. The man looks about the same age, with a full head of blond hair and the kind of sagging look that men get when they were bulky with muscle and then stop working out and the muscle turns to something else.

  Devlin leans on the bar, but the man speaks again. “You’d better keep that one on a shorter leash,” he says. “She’s a different breed than that one you had over last month.”

  “The way he goes through them,” the woman says. “Just like his father.”

  My mind latches onto that. So this house isn’t some random person’s. Her comment makes it sound like she knows his father well… Maybe intimately. Or siblings? Now the lack of knocking makes sense. This must be Colt or Preston’s house.

  But so what? Okay, so his dad’s a philanderer. Half the people our parents know are cheating on their spouses. Not exactly a weapon that will help me take them down.

  “You know what I always say, Dev,” the man says, waving his drink lazily. “Never trust a beautiful woman. Learned that from your mama.” He puts an arm around the woman and kisses her temple, and she squeals with protest and bats at him, giggling.

  His mother. Well, I wasn’t exactly planning to meet anyone’s parents in this get-up, but it’s always nice to make a first impression.

  They must catch my surprise even through their flirting, because the man laughs and holds up his glass toward me. “What, Devlin didn’t tell you about our little wife swap?”

  Devlin turns to the man, fury burning in his unfocused eyes that makes me cringe again. Sober, pissed off Devlin is a monster, and I don’t want to meet drunk, pissed off Devlin.

  “She’s a dog,” he says, his tone withering. “I don’t talk to her about our fucked up family.”

  “Hon-ey,” his mom says, but he ignores her, winding the leash around his hand and pulling me away from them. She makes no move to get up and follow, even though Devlin stops fifteen feet away, at the other end of the bar. He’s holding me so close I can smell the whiskey on his breath.

  “Oh, now you’re going to shorten my leash?” I growl. “What do you think’s going to happen? Some random guys might want to feel me up? Oh, wait, you’ve been letting them do that all fucking night.”

  “I’ve been letting them,” he says with a smirk, leaning his elbow on the bar. “I don’t mind sharing on occasion as long as they remember who you belong to at the end of the night.”

  I roll my eyes at his cliché response. “Bullshit,” I say. “You didn’t give a shit who grabbed me. You let me fend for myself with those assholes. But now you’re going to get all possessive because your mom dumped your cheating dad for that guy.”

  Devlin turns to the bar, and I want to scream in frustration that I can’t see his face, can’t see his reaction. But I must have hit a nerve to make him hide it from me.

  A second later, her turns and shoves a shot into my hand. “Drink.”

  “No fucking way,” I snap.

  He takes his shot and slams his glass down on the bar, his slightly unfocused eyes locked on mine. “Wrong. Answer.”

  Someone fills his shot glass, and he picks it up again and waits.

  “I played your insane little game all night,” I say. “I let your sleazy friends grope me and feel me up. I walked around on your leash like a good little doggie. I’m not getting drunk with you.”

  “Yes,” he says slowly, a sloppy smile forming on his lips. “I think you are.”

  “You can’t force me to drink.”

  His hand shoots out and grabs my jaw, his fingers crushing into my cheeks. It hurts like a hammer to the funny bone. I cry out, the shot dropping from my hand as I hit him without thought, an instinctive response to the pain. Devlin’s eyes are blind with fury as he shoves my head back and dumps his shot into my mouth.

  The familiar sweet tang of whiskey invades my mouth and nose. I’ve drank before. Not a lot, and I don’t like it, but I’ve snuck drinks from the liquor cabinet, even gotten drunk with Veronica. But there’s no way I’m losing control and acting the fool at a party where I’ve already walked around topless on a leash.

  Devlin releases his grip, and I spit a stream of whiskey right in his face. He stumbles back, blinking the burning liquid from his eyes.

  “You fucking cunt,” he says, jerking the leash so hard I stumble forward. He shoves me down, my hands and knees hitting the wooden deck. He rolls me over and jumps onto me, his powerful thighs caging my torso as he sits on my belly.

  “Let me go, you psycho,” I scream. Before I can think about it, I pull back and slap his face as hard as I can, my palm stinging with the force of the blow.

  Devlin’s palm cracks across my cheek, whipping my head sideways. I’m too stunned to do anything but fight back blindly, without strategy, which does nothing but tire me out. My body is no match for Devlin’s muscular one sitting astride it. Devlin pins my arms to the deck before lifting his head and bellowing, “Preston!”

  When no response comes, Devlin looks around at the group gathered to watch our scuffle.

  “Give me a knife,” he says. “This bitch doesn’t know when to quit.”

  “No,” I cry, going still under him. “Don’t cut me.”

  “You were warned,” he growls. “Behave at the party or get a permanent reminder of who you belong to. Think of it like a dog tag you can never take off.”

  “Please don’t cut me,” I blurt as someone hands him a pocket knife. I grab his wrist, but he forces my hand down until the tip of the blade touches my forehead. My body is suddenly shaking, fear coursing through me with each heartbeat. “Please,” I beg. “I’ll do what you want. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll be obedient. I’ll drink all the shots you give me.”

  Devlin leans down, his expression regretful as he strokes his fingers gently across my cheek, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Good dog,�
� he whispers, and he chucks me under the chin like I really am a fucking dog.

  He hands the knife back and pulls me to my feet, wrapping an arm around my waist. His fingers are cool against my bare skin, and I try to ignore the heat spreading where he touches. God, how can I still be attracted to this boy? How can I hate him and want him at the same time?

  He hands me a shot and clinks his own against it. I’m tempted to throw the drink in his face and try to run again, but I know when I’m beaten. Gathering my last shred of dignity, I take the shot without wincing at the burn.

  “A girl who can throw down whiskey,” Devlin purrs, nuzzling my ear. “I like it.”

  A hot chill races through me, and I tell myself that I won’t give in to what my body wants no matter how drunk I get. But I’m terrified that if I take enough shots, I’ll forget how much I hate him. Once he’s fed me a few shots, though, he seems to grow bored of it. I’m not fighting him anymore, so I’m no fun. He obviously likes the challenge. The luster of having a new pet has worn off now that he’s shown me off to everyone at the party and gotten my complete obedience.

  The more I know him, the harder it is to hate him, even when he’s stumbling around the party with his arm around me, so drunk I don’t know if I’m holding him up or being his dog. I haven’t gotten any information that can take down the Darlings, but I know a lot more about Devlin Darling. His mother is a lush, and no matter how badly he acts, she won’t say no to him. And neither will anyone else. He has more power than he knows what to do with.

  At last, he sees Colt and throws an arm around him. “Let’s get out of here,” he slurs. “This party is dead.”

  I want to point out that it’s his party, but I keep my mouth shut because I want to get out of here, too. Devlin is drunk off his ass, and I have no idea what he’ll come up with next. Since his aim seems to be public shaming, it’s safer to have him somewhere without an audience.

  When we reach the car, Devlin tries to get in the driver’s seat, and panic clutches me. I grab his arm. “Let me drive.”

  Devlin looks down at me like he forgot I was on the end of his leash. “Sweetie Pie,” he says with a slur, stepping closer to me. He drops the leash and cups my face in his large palms, his eyes struggling to focus on mine, his breath so whiskey-soaked it could get me drunk. At least, I blame that for the lightheadedness that makes my head swim when his hips crowd mine against the sleek car, rocking slightly and sending a curl of pleasure through my traitorous body.

  His fingers slide behind my neck, his gaze sweeping over my face to my full lips. My heart stops. He’s going to kiss me.

  A soft snapping sound startles me, and I feel the collar release from my neck.

  Devlin smirks. “I may be drunk, but I’d have to be dead in a ditch before I let a dog drive my car.”

  “Fine,” I say, shoving at his chest. “Kill yourself. I don’t care.”

  He doesn’t even budge. He smiles wider, slowly rocking his hips against mine, his neck arched to look down into my face. “We’re gonna fuck, aren’t we?”

  “Get off me,” I say, flustered by the physical contact and the way my body is doing things I definitely didn’t give it permission to do.

  Devlin’s fingers skim my cheek before he buries them in my hair, tugging gently to tip my head back. “Come with me,” he says, his words impulsive but sincere for once, and I see a flash of the Devlin girls must fall for. Tortured, fucked up, passionate. The fire of rage I saw earlier has been tempered by alcohol, and now he’s looking at me with a ravenous hunger, like he needs me so much he might die if I say no. His thumb skims over my full lower lip, and a tingle runs through me, whispering to my own need.

  “Say yes,” he murmurs, his voice smooth and sweet as cream.

  For one terrible second, I forget everything else. Devlin has done something to me, pulled me into the magnetic air around him, made me forget who he is and who I am and what he did to me tonight. And then my brain overrules my dizzy body.

  “No.” I shove at his chest again, and Devlin takes his sweet time stepping back, making sure I know that he could keep me pinned there if he wanted. That he’s letting me go on his terms.

  Colt looks back and forth between us, as if waiting to see if we’re done. When neither of us speak, he steps up behind Devlin.

  “Let me drive,” he says, clapping a hand over Devlin’s shoulder.

  Relieved, I reach for the back door of the car, but Devlin grabs my wrist. “What you doing there, Sweetie?”

  I glare at him. “Getting a ride home.”

  “Maybe next time.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I demand. “How am I going to get home?”

  “Maybe you can take a run,” he says, a cruel smile twisting his lips. “Dogs need their exercise.”

  “I don’t know where we are,” I point out. “In case you forgot, you drove me here in the trunk of your fucking car.”

  “Not our problem,” Colt says with a wink.

  “Dogs are good at finding their way home,” Devlin says, climbing into the car.

  Colt hops in the car with Devlin, and they speed away into the night and disappear.

  nineteen

  Only when the guys are gone do I remember that Colt has my phone. Fucking asshole.

  I stomp back inside. Everyone’s already seen me, so it’s not like I have anything to hide. But somehow, I still feel vulnerable walking in alone. When I was with Devlin, I was a prop, an oddity, a circus freak. The girl on a leash. I was a dog, but I was his dog. Now, I have no protection. No excuse for being here in my bra. Maybe some small part of me enjoyed the humiliation, or at least knew I deserved it. This is different. Instead of feeling like I’m being shown off, now I just feel like a loser.

  I edge up the stairs, looking for a bedroom. I don’t care what I put on, I just want to cover myself. A stained old T-shirt would be more than welcome right now. Anything to cover up the amount of skin I’m showing. Guys leer at me as I climb the stairs, but I glare so fiercely that they don’t say anything. I’m almost to the top of the stairs when a tall guy grins at me. After a second, I recognize him as the guy Preston forced to eat dog food in the hall.

  “Hey, dog,” he says. “I’m more of a cat person, but I’ll fuck a bitch on occasion.”

  “Yeah?” I say. “Then go fuck yourself.”

  I shove past him, but just as I go, I feel his fingers hook under the back of my bra. When I try to twist away, he unhooks it with his other hand. I grab it to my chest and run up the last few steps, my face burning as I listen to the laughter behind me.

  After hooking my bra and taking a second to compose myself, I try the door to each room as I pass. The first few are locked. On the third try, the knob turns. I push open the door only to see Preston fucking a girl from behind while she goes down on another girl. Preston’s holding a phone, and for a second I think he’s scrolling, but when he turns it my way, I realize he’s recording it.

  “Join the train, Manhattan,” he says with a grin. “I can add New York to my list.”

  I slam the door and hurry to a door that’s standing open. I find a bathroom and duck inside. There’s not so much as a robe inside. I consider wearing a towel, but at this point, that might draw more attention than my bra. I root through the cabinets and drawers, and just as I’m about to give up, I spot a pack of bobby pins. Like any normal girl, I’ve picked my share of locks. I pocket a couple and go back into the hall. After listening at the first door, I slip the bobby pin into the lock, feel around until I find the locking mechanism, and pop it open. I slip inside.

  The room is dark, but once my eyes adjust, I can see from the light shining in off the balcony that it’s also empty. Relief washes over me, and within seconds, I’m in an oversized T-shirt. I’ve never felt so safe and comforted. I may never wear anything else. The relief seems to weaken me, and I lock the door and then sink onto the edge of the bed. I’m tempted to pass out. I’m a little tipsy, and after the extreme emotional tri
al of this evening, I’m ready to collapse.

  But I don’t know whose room this is. I don’t know when they’ll come in, and what they’d do to me if they found me here. I don’t want to think about it, so I drag myself up and step out onto the balcony. A jolt goes through me when I spot a shadow slumped in a patio chair. My mental checklist marks off all the guys I know are dangerous before the figure turns, and I see that it’s not a guy at all. It’s Dolly.

  “Oh, hi,” I say, retreating a step.

  Dolly’s eyes narrow, her fake lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. “Are you in there with Devlin?” Her voice is soft and breathy and sweetly southern.

  “No.”

  She sighs and leans back into her chair again. “Well, at least I won’t be stuck out here listenin’ to you two fuck all night.”

  “What?”

  “That’s Devlin’s room,” she says, like I should know this. “I was hopin’ he’d come in alone, and we could talk. But then I heard someone come in, and I thought, well shit. What if he came in with a girl, and I can’t tell them I’m out here without lookin’ like a stalker, so I’ll just have to listen to him fuckin’ her.”

  “Um. Okay.”

  “And I know Devlin,” she says. “He doesn’t do short and sweet. I’d be out here all night listening to you screaming his name like you’re trying out for the lead role in a porno flick. It’s pretty much my worst nightmare.”

  “Well, then I guess it’s a good thing it didn’t happen.”

  “You know where he’s at?”

  “He left,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “I just came up here looking for clothes.”

  “Oh yeah,” she says, glancing at my T-shirt. “He likes that shirt.”

  “This is Devlin’s shirt?”

  “Course it is.”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course I’d have the shitty luck to walk into his room.”

  “He left you here?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “He told me to run home. I’m a literal dog to him.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she says. “You are the Darling Dog, aren’t you? Sweetie or somethin’ like that?”