With quick steps, Toby and I join the other students. When Miss Piccolo turns to adjust the tennis ball machine at the end of the court, Toby asks the guy closest to us, “Do you know why we’re having tennis class today?”
The lanky kid with a mop of dark curly hair watches me with resentment. “It’s all thanks to the weakling next to you.”
“Me?” I ask. “What do I have to do with it?”
“You’re too feeble to handle a team sport. Our principal doesn’t want you to break on the first week of school.”
“I didn’t ask her to change the schedule,” I reply, feeling frustrated. “Besides, I’m not as fragile as I look.”
The kid takes a step in my direction. “Oh, is that a dare?”
“Back off, Conan.” Rufio moves in front of me, blocking the guy from advancing any more.
I tilt my body to the side so I can see Conan’s reaction. His skin is paler now, and gone is the arrogance from before.
“Rufio, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know she was yours.”
The small hairs on the back on my neck stand on end. I’m his? No one owns me, so Conan’s statement leaves me fuming. But before I can dig my grave further and voice my indignation out loud, Miss Piccolo commands our attention.
“Okay, everybody. Listen up. I know the last thing you want is to stand out in this heat and hit some balls, but the quicker we get this over with, the quicker you can return to your chilled quarters.”
“This is a disgrace. I already know how to play tennis,” a girl with pink hair and thick bangs protests. “That’s a sport for babies, or feeble Norms.” She glares at me.
“I’ll show you feeble, bitch,” I mutter under my breath.
Rufio chuckles, reminding me that he’s still super close.
“I’m pretty sure you could put that Fringe girl in her place, Daisy,” Rufio replies softly. My name rolls off his tongue like smooth whiskey, giving me goose bumps.
I sidestep, increasing the distance between us.
The line to hit the tennis ball moves along faster than I anticipated. It seems most students know their way around a tennis racket. My guess is that they’ve been practicing the sport since they were out of diapers. I’m not an idiot when it comes to sports, but learning to play tennis wasn’t a priority for me. I concentrated on extracurricular activities that gave me an edge, a way to defend myself.
My turn comes up pretty quickly, and I find myself unsure as I hold the tennis racket in my hand and prepare to hit some balls. The weight of a dozen pairs of eyes is not helping me gain confidence. I’ve never done this before, so there’s a high chance I’m going to mess up. I’m delighted that it’ll happen in front of all these people who loathe me.
“Miss Woods, have you ever played tennis before?” Miss Piccolo asks.
“No.”
“I figured. Well, there’s no secret to it. That machine on the other side will launch balls in your direction. All you have to do is hit them.”
She attempts to correct my grip on the tennis racket and my stance before she steps away. My palms are sweaty, and it has nothing to do with the heat. I try to ignore the snickers and mean remarks from the other students, but I’m having a hard time creating a buffer around me.
When the first tennis ball comes my way, I’m too slow and end up hitting empty air. The mocking laughter becomes louder, and I’m not proud to say it’s totally getting to me. My face is hot, and there’s a buzzing in my ears.
I miss the next three balls, and now I’m not only mortified but also pissed as hell. The urge to throw the damn racket into the distance is grand. I swear I had the last ball pinned down.
The PE teacher tries to help me out again, but she doesn’t understand it’s not lack of coordination that’s preventing me from hitting the target. It’s almost like the damn machine is sending curve balls my way.
“Miss Piccolo, perhaps I can assist Daisy.” Rufio steps away from the sideline and approaches us.
The laughter gives way to utter silence, and all attention diverts to Rufio. Even I’m riveted on him. There’s something different about the Idol now, almost like he’s surrounded by an aura of power. The atmosphere crackles around him. Once again, my traitorous body reacts in a hateful way—I’m short of breath, and radioactive butterflies are fluttering maniacally in my stomach.
No, I can’t allow my hormones to cloud my judgment. Yes, the guy is hotter than sin, but he’s cruel, and he’s most definitely out to get me.
“Be my guest.” The woman throws her hands up in the air, giving up on me already.
What a great program they have here. My former PE teacher was ten times more patient than Miss Piccolo.
Rufio lips curl into a mischievous smile as he breaches the final distance between us.
“Why are you so smug?” I ask.
His eyebrows rise as if my question surprises him.
“I’m not smug. Now, do you want to learn to play tennis or not?” He strips his jacket off and then rolls up his shirt’s sleeves. Desire licks the base of my spine, and I’m going out on a limb here that everything Rufio is doing is on purpose. He knows the effect he has on the opposite sex. The mystery is why I’m falling prey to his charms.
“I just want this humiliation to be over.”
Rufio walks around me and positions himself at my back, awfully close. My spine becomes taut in an instant. He traces my forearm with his fingers, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake, which doesn’t help at all. I stop breathing for a second.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Without answering, he engulfs me in a hug, sending my heartbeat skyrocketing. I’m a second away from elbowing his stomach in order to break free when the intention of his close proximity becomes obvious.
"You’re holding the racket wrong." He guides my hands down the racket handle and then steps even closer to me. Now my back is flush against his chest. "Relax, I'm not going to bite you."
"No, you're just going to blow me to smithereens," I reply under my breath.
"If this is about the incident at the diner? I know the pie to the face wasn't your doing."
"Oh, and whose fault was it, then?"
"Phoenix's."
"Of course it was."
"Mr. Kent. Are you helping Daisy or just wanted to cop a feel?" Miss Piccolo asks from the other side of the court.
Heat surges to my face.
Rufio chuckles. "Don't mind her. She's jealous because she's not getting any."
"You're not getting any either." I attempt to break from Rufio's grasp, but he only holds me tighter.
Seemingly not satisfied, he brings his mouth close to my ear. “I’m not so sure about—"
He stops talking abruptly and takes a whiff of my neck. My eyes close involuntarily as a chill runs down my spine. Rufio gasps—a sound I could never imagine he was capable of making—right before he lets go of me as if I’ve electrocuted him somehow.
Miss Piccolo turns on the machine just as I'm turning to see what the hell is wrong with the guy. The tennis ball ends up hitting my right shoulder, and I yelp.
"Daisy!" Toby exclaims, and then he runs toward me.
Clutching my shoulder, I watch Rufio stalk away from the tennis court without a glance back. Wow, he couldn't keep up the lie for even an hour.
"Daisy, are you okay?" Toby steps into my line of vision, forcing me to forget about Rufio for a moment.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Miss Woods. That was absolutely reckless of you," Miss Piccolo says, glaring from the other side of the court. "You could’ve been seriously hurt."
"I'm sorry," I reply meekly.
"What did you expect from a stupid Norm?" the pink-haired girl replies.
"No one asked for your option, Miss Winters." Miss Piccolo turns her glare on the annoying Fringe.
"I think I should take Daisy to see the nurse. That was a hard hit," Toby suggests.
Miss Piccolo nods. "Yes, I think that's best."
“What about the r
est of us? Do we still need to suffer under this heat? We were only here because of the new girl," Conan says.
He's still acting much nicer despite Rufio's departure.
"Well, I suppo—"
A scream in the crowd cuts off what Miss Piccolo was about to say. Everyone in line turns toward the noise. A mousy girl is now covering her mouth with both hands as she stares at the crumpled form of the pink-haired Fringe.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Miss Piccolo runs toward the girl on the ground.
I exchange a worried glance with Toby before doing the same.
"Stay back." Miss Piccolo pushes the students out of her way and then crouches next to the unconscious girl. "What happened?"
"I don't know," the mousy girl replies. "One moment Stella was laughing at the Norm chick, and then the next, her nose started to bleed and she passed out."
I'm finally close enough to see the Fringe's blood-smeared face. Alicia also bled through her nose before she dropped half dead on top of me.
Unable to resist, I ask, "Did her eyes roll back into their sockets before she fainted?"
Stella's friend furrows her eyebrows. "Yes. How did you know?"
I open my mouth to reply, but Toby elbows my arm and answers before I can.
"Lucky guess. Miss Piccolo, do you need help taking Stella to the infirmary?"
The PE teacher glowers at Toby. "Of course not." She lifts Stella easily into her arms and addresses the crowd. "I want everyone to return to the main building immediately."
She doesn't wait for us to acknowledge her command before she strides off the tennis court. Stella's friend follows the teacher close behind.
When Miss Piccolo is out of earshot, everyone begins to speak at once. The word on everyone's tongue is Silver-voltage.
18
Rufio
I'm going to kill those motherfuckers. I can't believe they left me in the dark for three days about what went down in Unearthly Desires. Three fucking days! Now Bryce's question on Monday morning makes sense. He wanted to know if I remembered anything.
Son of a bitch.
I can't believe I was all over Daisy like a hobo on a hotdog and I didn’t recognize her. If I had, I most likely would’ve killed her with my bare hands. I wouldn't even have used my powers. Now that the memories have returned, I no longer want to kill her, only destroy her, and for entirely different reasons.
I want her. Despite that she's a Norm who doesn't know her place, I want the girl like she’s a goddess sent from heaven. This is not a simple carnal desire that can be taken care of with a simple hookup. A deep-seated craving hit me out of nowhere when I smelled her sweet scent on the tennis court, and a blazing fever swept over my body. If I hadn't taken off immediately, I might have thrown her over my shoulder and brought her back to my room.
I don't bother returning to school. I need to get my shit in order before I see Daisy again. She can't ever know the momentary power she had over me.
No one is home when I burst through the apartment’s door. Good. I'm not in the mood to see or speak to anyone, mainly because my friends would be able to tell something is definitely wrong with me.
Despite the apartment's emptiness, I don't stop until I'm in my bedroom, closing the door with enough force that it rattles the walls. The mirror hanging above my dresser falls, shattering in a thousand pieces as it hits the top of the dresser first before tumbling down onto the floor.
Great. Seven years of bad luck. Like I need more horseshit in my life.
I step over the glass shards and head for the bathroom. I need a cold shower to calm the fuck down.
My uniform comes off with hard yanks, and I won't be surprised if I turned it into rags.
I brace both hands against the tiled walls and glance down. The water is ice cold when I step under the stream, and yet my body still feels like it's a furnace. The image of Daisy dancing half naked on that stage at Unearthly Desires is forefront in my mind. She was breathtaking, beautiful, sexy as hell. Everything a Norm shouldn't be.
My cock doesn't care that I hate the girl, that I'm supposed to destroy her. It's standing at attention, rock hard. I wrap my fingers around the shaft and perversely imagine it's Daisy's hand pumping me up and down. A low hiss escapes my lips. I can't remember the last time I needed to jerk off in order to maintain my sanity. But here I am, eyes closed, groaning as my hand does the job I know won't help me much. This kind of need can only be satiated by the one who instigated it.
My imagination takes over, and suddenly it’s Daisy's mouth that’s wrapped around my cock. In my mind, her tongue is warm and expert. I grab her hair and yank hard enough to hurt. She locks her gaze with mine, and her lust-infused eyes are not submissive. No, she's watching me like she’s always done since we've met. With defiance.
The release comes swiftly. I yell as I milk my orgasm, hating that I wish Daisy was here, on her knees, challenging me.
When I've emptied myself on the wet floor, I finally open my eyes. In the throes of my release, I punched a hole through the wall. She got me that riled up.
Destroying her is no longer a matter of saying a big “fuck you” to the Knights and their propaganda. It’s a matter of self-preservation.
If I don’t destroy her, she’ll destroy me.
PHOENIX
Rufio thinks he has this bet in the bag, but I know he won’t be able to keep up the charade for too long. When he learns about the Unearthly Desires event, he’ll be furious, which will naturally lead him to blow the deal with Daisy.
I’m counting the minutes until I see the Norm again. This damn physics class is boring me to tears. I don’t know why Idol society insists that we learn the same curriculum as Fringes and Norms do. We aren’t the same. We can do things those with little or no power at all can’t possibly imagine.
Thank goodness the new school board insisted Idols take extra classes tailored to honing our special abilities. It’s the only thing that makes Gifted Academy bearable. Well, that and my bet against Rufio.
I bring Daisy’s class schedule up on my laptop screen. She’s in PE right now, but after that is advanced English lit with Bryce and me. A small smile blossoms on my lips. I can’t wait to give little Daisy another visual of what’s to come. I’ve never had to chase a girl before; this change of pace is refreshing.
Fifteen minutes before class is over, my phone pings with a message from my father. It only says ‘I need you now.’ Nausea swirls in my stomach. With a hard clench of my jaw, I turn my phone off and pretend I didn’t see anything. It’s a childish move on my part, since he has other ways to get in touch with me.
Like clockwork, the tattoo on my wrist begins to burn.
No, not right now. Damn it.
I pull my jacket sleeve down, even though the tattoo is completely covered. The burning is bearable at first, but it increases the longer I ignore the call. He won’t stop until I do what he wants. He hasn’t bothered me in weeks, so it was stupid of me to not foresee that he would be calling soon.
I’m able to endure five minutes of pure agony before I finally jump out of my chair and head for the door.
“Where do you think you’re going, Mr. Westbrook?”
“Going to see the nurse,” I reply through clenched teeth.
I don’t wait to hear the teacher’s reply. Once I’m out in the hallway, I veer to the janitor’s closet I’ve used several times before for hookups.
Leaning against the closed door, I don't turn the lights on. My breathing is erratic, so I loosen the tie around my neck. Disgust sits in the pit of my stomach like week-old porridge.
I touch the tattoo before my father loses his patience and decides to pay me a personal visit. As bad as it is that he forces me to send him the disturbing visions he craves so much, it's better than having to perform the act in person.
The burning stops almost immediately. With a deep inhale, I set up the scene. I'm in my father's office, the odious man's preferred setting. He's sitting behind his desk, watching me w
ith a smug smile on his lips.
"When I say I need you, I expect to be answered right away," he says.
I'm in complete control of the visions I send, including the lines. But I know what the man likes—fuck, I've been doing this shit for almost seven years now.
"I was in the middle of class."
"Spare me your excuses." He flattens his palms on the desk and stands up. "Take off your clothes."
I obey his command like the good boy I am, but in the back of my mind, I’m always plotting the day I’ll kill him. I've imagined a thousand ways to off the man, and in all of them, I make him suffer to the point that he begs for the end. It's a dream that I don't see a way to fulfill, though. Not until I find a way to remove the tattoo on my wrist—the proverbial shackles that prevent me from removing the man's heart with my bare hands.
I strip naked and wait for him to slowly walk toward me. Even knowing the scene isn't real, shakes run through my body. I bite the inside of my cheek to distract me from the nausea. Puking all over my father's pristine suit won't do, even if this is all happening in his head.
He stops in front of me, invading my space. I know exactly what's going to happen next. There's no need to be creative. The monster who spawned me always wants the same thing: my utter humiliation. He reaches behind my head and grabs a handful of hair, yanking it hard and forcing my face up.
"You've been a terrible son. You know what to do."
"Yes, Father."
He lets go of me so I can do my thing. I drop to my knees, and for the thousandth time, I wish to die.
19
Daisy
Everyone is still talking about what happened to Stella in PE class when I head to English lit. class. Since the tennis lesson was cut short, I had time to run back to my dorm room and shower there. The idea of showering in the locker room, being naked and vulnerable surrounded by girls who hate me, is not my idea of fun.
I won't be able to avoid doing that for long, so I have to come up with a way to cope, or at least acquire some type of protection, like pepper spray. I know Idols are immune to most if not all Norm-made weapons, but Dad's diary didn’t mention that some good old-fashioned spiced water wouldn’t work.
Wicked Gods: A Paranormal High School Bully Romance (Gifted Academy Book 1) Page 10
