His sultry brown eyes flash darkly as he stares at me, and his cold, impassive face is a million miles away from the softer, compassionate look I’m familiar with. The sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up to the elbows, showcasing the ink on his arms like a calling card. He’s wearing his hair the same way. Shorn tight on both sides with the longest part on top, flipped over to the left. The skull tattoo I repeatedly ran my fingers over taunts me as I almost crumble under his hateful glare. Danger and power exude from him in waves, and the entire room has turned mute as they watch our exchange with bated breath.
“You’re Camden Marshall,” I whisper, struggling to breathe above the panic running riot inside me.
“Yes, Abigail.” He spits my name out like it pains him to speak it. “And we need to talk.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Follow me,” I say, proud my voice doesn’t crack. Doesn’t betray the anxiety coursing through my body. Someone up there sure loves to fuck with me.
“I’ll come with,” Chad offers, materializing at my side.
“That won’t be necessary.” There is no way in hell I want him, or any of the inner circle, anywhere near this conversation.
“But Trent said—”
“Trent isn’t here,” I snap. “Take care of Jane. I’ll be back shortly.”
I spin on my heel and stride out of the cafeteria, not bothering to check if they’re following me. I walk toward the main auditorium. No one ventures in there at lunchtime, and it’s the most private place to talk.
“Wow, slow down, beautiful,” Jackson says, tugging on my elbow.
I shove him off. “Stop touching me.”
“That’s not what you—” He stops talking when I fix him with my most venomous look, and I’m pissed when his mouth turns up in amusement. “Do you practice scary evil faces in the mirror before you come to school? Because, I gotta say, your fright face needs work.”
I flip him the bird. “That clearer for you?”
He throws back his head, laughing.
“Jackson,” Camden cautions as we arrive at the entrance to the auditorium.
I push my way through the double doors, keeping my back ramrod straight and my head lifted, as I descend the stairs, willing my errant pulse to calm down because I need a cool head to deal with this situation. Stopping when I reach the podium, I turn around, clasp my hands in front of me, and school my lips into a neutral line as they saunter toward me.
Jackson is wearing his trademark shit-eating grin, his uniform disheveled like he never irons it, his tie missing, and the top few buttons of his shirt undone, offering a glimpse of the tan skin my hands are, unfortunately, familiar with.
Sawyer is giving nothing away, holding himself assertively as he walks with purpose. Unlike his friend, his uniform is freshly pressed, his shirt fully buttoned, and his tie straight. There isn’t a hair out of place on his head, and he exudes calm confidence in spades.
My eyes flit to the guy I’ve struggled to evict from my head since that fateful night at the beach. Camden is a ball of hateful energy as he stalks toward me, not even attempting to shield his loathing. His eyes are darkly vicious as he glares at me, his mouth pulled into a sneer, but it doesn’t detract from his hotness.
It only adds to it.
My memory hasn’t done him justice at all, and I hate that my body purrs with need, my mouth craving another taste.
I gulp over the messy ball of emotion wedged in my throat. Conflicting emotions race through me.
Discovering I gave my virginity to the enemy both terrifies and excites me. It’s even more of an F you to Trent, but that also means I’ll be in worse trouble if he finds out. I plan on being far away from Rydeville High before my scheduled wedding day, but Camden showing up here means I’m no longer the sole holder of this secret, and that’s a big fucking problem.
Along with the fact he’s glowering at me like I’m the second coming of the AntiChrist.
He wasn’t shocked to see me which means he already knew who I was, but he didn’t know the night we met because I doubt it would’ve happened otherwise.
Unless he planned it?
My stomach dips as that thought lands in my mind, but I shake it aside. It couldn’t have been premeditated. I hadn’t planned on going to that beach that night.
It had to have been a coincidence.
A fucked-up one, but a coincidence none the less.
But that doesn’t mean he didn’t realize who I was and take my virginity as some sick form of control or revenge.
Nausea swims up my throat as my brain grapples to make sense of this.
And while I figure his disgust is because of the rivalry between his kind and mine, I can’t help the feelings of rejection that flood my body or the nasty inner voice that says he regrets it. That it didn’t mean as much to him as it meant to me.
“Why do you hate me?” I ask, when they come to a standstill in front of me, looking Camden squarely in the eye.
“If you have to ask, you’re even more stupid than you look.” His voice is devoid of emotion, unlike his hate-filled gaze.
His words dig deep, raising old wounds, and I’m instantly on the defensive. “Fuck. You.” My mouth curves at the corners. “Oh, my bad. I already did, and it wasn’t in any way memorable,” I lie.
Jackson’s eyes pop wide, and his mouth falls open, while Sawyer’s razor-sharp gaze lands instantly on Camden. “What is she talking about?” Sawyer asks.
I silently kick myself up the ass for my mistake. I presumed his buddies knew, and I wanted to dismiss what we shared before he beat me to it. But, judging from their reactions, Jackson and Sawyer didn’t know.
So maybe it wasn’t part of some plan because if it was wouldn’t his friends have been in on it?
Ugh. I shut my wayward thoughts down. I can analyze it later. Right now, I need to bring my A-game, and I’ve possibly just made things worse. I need to focus because now the three of them know my secret, and I must find a way of keeping them quiet.
Camden’s jaw is rigid with tension, and he doesn’t remove his eyes from my face as he answers his friend. “She’s the girl from the beach.”
Now, it’s Sawyer’s turn to look surprised.
“You got a thing for hooking up on beaches, beautiful?” Jackson, unhelpfully, supplies, winking at me.
“I was stoned,” I say through gritted teeth.
Camden stops eyeballing me long enough to stare at Jackson. Tension bleeds into the air. “Care to elaborate?”
Jackson smirks, and my hands ball into fists at my side. “She was all over me Saturday night. Would’ve been all over my dick too if her bodyguard hadn’t interrupted.”
“You kissed me first!” I protest.
“You kissed me back!”
My fists itch with a craving to wipe that smug grin off his face. “I didn’t know what I was doing!”
“Is that why I found you up to your knees in the sea, in the middle of the night, your nipples poking through your silk robe?” Camden snarls, putting his face right into mine. “Were you stoned then too? Or was it some pitiful attempt at ending your miserable life?”
“My life isn’t miserable,” I lie, taking a step back, my calves hitting the edge of the podium.
“The note you left me says otherwise.” He removes the crumpled sheet from his pocket, opening it up and shoving it in my face. Before I can make a grab for it, Sawyer has snatched it from Camden’s hand. Jackson leans over his shoulder, and they both read it while Camden and I face off.
“Aw, you gave her a precious memory, Cam,” Jackson teases, slapping his buddy on the back. “And how was it for you?”
“Below insignificant,” Cam coolly replies, digging a hole out of my heart. “I don’t fuck virgins for a reason. They have no clue what they’re doing.” My cheeks flare up as Jackson and Sawyer chuckle. “I should’ve just left you in the sea and done the world a favor.”
Pain slices across my chest making breathing difficult.
What kind of asshole says that to someone who was suicidal?
“It was a mistake. We can both agree to that. There’s no need to reference it again.” I push past him, desperate to get out of here before I say something I regret.
“Who the fuck said you could leave?” Cam barks, grabbing hold of my arm and stopping me. Warmth seeps from his skin to mine, delicious tremors zip up and down my arms, and I hate how my body responds to his touch so enthusiastically.
I attempt to wriggle out of his hold, but his grip is firm, and he tightens his grasp on my elbow the more I struggle. “Ow.” I wince as his palm presses down on my tender flesh.
He shoves the sleeve of my jacket and shirt up, running his finger along the existing marks on my pale skin. “You do this?” he asks Jackson, his face and voice nonchalant.
“Nope,” he replies, popping the P. “My money’s on the douchebag fiancé.”
“Who did this to you?” Cam asks.
“Why the fuck do you care?” I spit.
“I don’t. This is about gleaning intel.”
I bark out a laugh, still trying to wrest my arm away from him. “And why the hell would I help you with that?”
A cocky grin graces his mouth. “You’ll help. Trust me. You’ll do exactly what we say.”
“You’re delusional.”
“And you’re a stupid, naïve girl who thinks she can play in the big league.”
“You don’t get to rock up here and tell me what to do. I’m part of the elite. I tell you what to do.” They all roar with laughter, and heat creeps up my neck and onto my cheeks. Although I abhor violence, because I know that’s how the elite rule, I won’t stand here and let them belittle me any longer.
I’m done playing nice.
Using my free hand, I reach back around to the gap between our bodies, grab hold of his junk, and squeeze it with all my strength, ensuring I dig my long, manicured fingernails into his flesh. His hold on my elbow releases instantly, and he emits a guttural roar, cussing as he stumbles back, clutching his crotch. I use the distraction to rush past Jackson and Sawyer, scaling the steps as fast as I can.
“Stop her!” Cam pants, his voice laced with pain, and I smile to myself as I pick up my pace.
My palm lands on the door just as I’m wrenched back. I scream, but a hand slams over my mouth as I’m simultaneously lifted against a warm chest. Jackson is climbing the stairs, coming toward us as I thrash about in Sawyer’s arms.
“Stop fucking moving,” Sawyer grits out, moving down the stairs, and I bite down hard on his hand. “Motherfucker!” he shouts, yanking his hand away, almost losing his hold on me, but he recovers fast. “The bitch bit me!” The arm around my waist tightens as he growls in my ear.
Jackson chuckles. “Told you she was feisty.”
“Grab her legs,” Sawyer instructs.
“No!” I lift my legs up, shoving them into Jackson’s gut before he can get hold of me.
Thank God for ballet and its core-strengthening ability.
Jackson’s expression is comical as he wobbles, his arms flailing as he struggles to maintain balance.
Sawyer has a choice to make.
Drop me or let his friend risk injury.
I’m dropped like a sack of potatoes, my shoes flying in different directions, as Sawyer reaches for Jackson, fisting his shirt in the nick of time, halting his backward trajectory.
Ignoring the pain ricocheting along my spine, I crawl away, scrambling to my feet and racing toward the door for a second time. Adrenaline pumps through my veins at the sound of running footsteps behind me. I’m panting as I push through the double doors out into the empty corridor, thinking I’m home free, when I’m suddenly yanked back by my hair.
A scream rips from my throat as stinging pain dances along my scalp. I’m dragged back into the auditorium by my hair, and tears stream out of my eyes as I’m slammed up against the wall. Cam’s face is a mask of scary aggression as his hand closes around my throat, and I’m lifted clear off the ground.
I claw at his hand, panicking as I struggle to draw enough air into my lungs. The wall rattles as he shakes me, tightening his grip on my neck while pressing his body flush against mine. “Let’s get one thing straight here, Abigail. We own you. You are ours to do with as we please.” He rocks his pelvis into mine, ensuring I feel his hardening length, and it should sicken me that this turns him on.
But I’m aroused too.
Guess I’m even more fucked up than I thought.
“Pull that crap again, and I’ll snap your neck.” He digs his fingers into my neck to drill his point home, and black spots flash across my eyes.
“Cam, she’s turning blue.” Sawyer stares impassively at me as he speaks, but I detect a hint of concern in his tone. Although, it’s probably directed at his friend more so than me.
“Dude.” Jackson tugs on his arm. “Enough.” For once, the smirking, flirtatious look is absent from his face. “We need to stick to the plan.”
Cam glares at me one final time before letting go. “There’s a new plan,” he says, rubbing his hands down the front of his gray pants like they’re diseased.
I crumple to the ground, barely feeling any pain as my butt smacks off the floor, too busy sucking in much-needed air to properly register it.
He bends down in front of me, wiping his thumbs under my eyes, his skin streaked with smudged mascara. “You’re a mess. Clean yourself up.” He stands, looming over me like he thinks he’s some god. I flip him the bird because my throat’s too sore to hurl insults at him.
“It’s cute you think you have any control here.” He yanks me up by my hair again, and I cry out. “Congratulations, baby, you’re our new toy.”
Jackson props against the wall, his eyes lighting up in understanding.
“I’m no one’s toy,” I croak, cringing at how raspy my voice sounds.
“Oh, but you are,” Cam responds with an evil smile. “You will do what we want, when we want it, because if you don’t, I’ll tell your father and your fiancé you’ve already given your virginity away.”
“You can’t!” I struggle to my feet. “They’ll kill me!” My father will throttle me with his bare hands if I ruin the deal he’s made with Trent’s father.
Cam winds his hand into my hair, fisting it and forcing my head back at an awkward angle. I bite back a whimper. He pushes his face into mine, his lips curling in disgust as his gaze rakes over me. “Do I look like I care?”
My heart jackhammers in my chest, and I hate that his spiteful words and harsh glares hurt so much.
Hate he’s tarnished the one good memory I had.
Hate it’s like everything else in my life—one giant lie.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The guys are waiting at my locker after the last class of the day, and my hands automatically ball into fists at my side. “What do they want?” Jane whispers, her eyes out on stalks.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” I lie, lifting my chin and staring defiantly in their direction.
“Hey, beautiful,” Jackson says, winking as I come to a halt in front of my locker.
“Screw off, Jackson.” I hate how hoarse I sound, and I’ve been deflecting questions all afternoon about it. I elbow him in the ribs, shoving him aside as I open my locker and grab the books I need. Sawyer stands on the other side of Jane, eyeballing her warily, and I can almost taste her fear from here. “Quit looking at her,” I snap.
Cam slams my locker shut before I’m ready, clipping the side of my index finger.
“Motherfucker!” I yell, dropping my books as pain slices across my hand.
Jackson drops to the ground, picking them up, while I pin Cam with a poisonous look. I’m conscious we’ve drawn a crowd, and the students hovering in the corridor are eager to discover what’s going down. “It seems you didn’t get the message earlier,” Cam continues, his eyes lowering momentarily to my lips. “You don’t tell us what to do. We. Own. You.”
Jane splutters be
hind me, and I’m lining up a slew of expletives when a warm hand creeps up my skirt, tracing along my thigh, and I screech. I jump back, caught off guard, bumping into Jane. “Get your hands off me!” I bark at Jackson.
He climbs to his feet, a mock innocent expression on his face as he hands me my books. “Oh, come on now, we both know how much you love the feel of my hands on you.” He says this way too loud, on purpose, and the eager bystanders are all ears. Some are recording on their cells.
Calmly, I hand my books to Jane. Then I smile sweetly at Jackson before I punch him in the face. His head whips back, and blood sprays from his nose, little spots landing on Cam and me.
Jackson makes a grab for the lockers, struggling to stay upright, shock splaying across his gorgeous face. Cam looks shell-shocked for a split second before recovering. If looks could kill, I’d be ten feet under with the look he gives me now. A surge of pride overtakes me. I’m glad I was smart enough to take weekly self-defense lessons and that I know how to throw a decent punch.
But I also know when to take my cue.
And it’s time to leave.
“Come on.” I take my books from Jane, grab her elbow, and steer her away before Cam decides to punch me back. Jackson’s shocked laughter follows us as I all but drag Jane out of the building and down to the waiting car. I shove her inside and climb in behind, slamming the door shut superfast. “Let’s get out of here.”
The driver puts the car in gear, and we glide forward. Oscar turns around in the passenger seat, frowning as he looks me over. “Why do you have blood spatters on your shirt?”
“Because I just punched an annoying boy.”
He lifts one brow in amusement. “It wouldn’t be the same annoying boy from the beach, now would it?” The amusement quickly fades from his face, confirming he knows exactly who Jackson is.
“Yes. He has some boundary issues, but I think he got the message now.”
“If he’s bothering you—”
“He’s not, and I can handle him.”
He eyeballs me for ages, and I meet his challenging stare head-on. Finally, he sighs, shaking his head and muttering, “women,” under his breath.
Cruel Intentions Page 7
