“All I can think about is your body wrapped around mine,” he murmurs, slowly flicking his tongue against my skin. I'm aware we're standing in the hallway, but none of the other students will bother us. They know better than that. “I've watched that video of you and Hael every day this week and jacked off to it.”
“Liar,” I mumble, but then I open my eyes and Vic moves back to look at me.
“I came so hard every time I watched it,” he grinds out, and my nails dig even deeper into his biceps. “And I imagined that I was coming inside of you again.”
“We can't keep doing that,” I say, and he pushes off the wall, grabbing one of my hands and pulling me down the hall.
“Like hell we can't,” Vic says, storming over to the girls' bathroom and barging right in the door. “Okay, ladies, out.” He hooks a thumb in the direction of the door, and all the students scatter, snatching up makeup and stumbling out of the stall doors.
Nobody wants to be left in here to face the rumbling thundercloud that is Victor Channing.
The room empties in a matter of seconds, and then Vic's yanking me into the stall on the far end. He closes and locks the door behind us as the scent of bleach wafts around me. At least it looks like it was just cleaned in here, I think as he turns back to face me.
“Turn around and put your palms on the wall,” he commands, and I do it. This is my deal with Havoc, I think, but really, that's not why I'm here and we both know it. His hands skim the curve of my waist and come to rest on my hips. “You make me chase you, Bernadette, which is just fine by me.” He wraps his fingers around the front of my neck and puts his hot lips up against my ear. “If that’s what you want, I’ll do it; I’m quite good at the chase.”
“You’re such a royal piece of shit,” I snarl as he reaches down and unbuttons my leather pants, shoving them over the round curve of my ass. “I fucking hate you.”
Victor chuckles, and I can feel his knuckles brush against my throbbing heat as he undoes his own jeans.
“We were both in the room that night, baby. Don’t lie to me.” Vic kisses the edge of my mouth and then mounts me with one, hard thrust, taking over my body with that way of his.
He fucks me into the wall, my fingers curling against the tile, my mind obliterated by his heat, his incessant need, his demand. I want more, even though I know I shouldn’t. Part of me wonders if my obsession with Vic Channing is going to get me killed one day. But it’s too late now, isn’t it? I’m embroiled in Havoc’s world.
We don’t bother keeping quiet. Why should we? For a moment, I let that thought wash over me: Vic is king of the school, so that would make me queen in a way, right? We’re engaged, after all, and everybody fucking knows it.
“I want to see that wedding dress of yours,” he growls, like he can read my thoughts. “Oscar is lording it over me, and I don’t like it.” Vic yanks me harder against him, burying himself in my wet heat.
“Not until the wedding,” I manage to grind out, even though I’m hot and achy all over, ready to have a full-on orgasmic meltdown in the girls’ bathroom of Prescott High.
“I’m going to marry the shit of you, and then tear that dress off,” he breathes, turning my head so that he can kiss me. My heart flutters in my chest, and a strange pang takes over me. I’m falling for Victor. Shit, I fell for Victor years ago, and it’s just now coming to bite me in the ass. I’m like one of those idiot heroines in a bully romance who falls for her tormentors. And yet, even as I see my own folly, I can’t avoid making it. “Our wedding night is going up in flames.”
He moves his hand to my clit, slowing the motion of his hips to focus on my body, and he doesn’t stop until I’m collapsing against the wall in a torrent of warm pleasure. As I’m shuddering and shaking, my body clamps down around his, milking his shaft until he’s finishing inside of me in a hot, wet wave.
For several minutes, we just stand there, locked together.
“Get the fuck off of me,” I grumble, and he laughs, stepping back to give me some space.
Vic doesn't leave the bathroom stall when I sit down to pee, so I just glare at him as he leans in the corner like a satisfied housecat.
“We are not at this level,” I growl as he just smirks at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is, like, twenty years together married couple level.”
“That'll be us someday,” he says, leaning over to get in my face, just because he can. “I'm just jump-starting the process. Besides, I like to enjoy the aftershocks of sex, it's my favorite part, knowing there's a little part of me inside of you.”
“Go to hell.” I finish cleaning up—well, as best I can considering where we are—and then stuff some extra toilet paper in my underwear. I stand up and fix my pants as Vic opens the door and holds it for me like he thinks he can even pretend to be a gentleman after fucking me in the high school bathroom.
We both pause to wash our hands at the sinks, and I feel a hot flush creep into my cheeks.
Ugh. Gross. Blushing is most definitely not in my repertoire of tricks. I hate it. It implies a certain level of vulnerability, some physical acknowledgement of one's emotions.
After I dry my hands, Vic reaches out and takes my hand, running his thumb over my engagement ring. The whole school knows about us; I hear whispers in the hallway when I walk by.
“I'm taking you with me after school.”
“I—” I start, but Vic cocks a brow and yanks me close.
“That's an official order,” he says, and I grit my teeth. He finally lets go of me, and I head for the door before we can get caught up in each other again. Elbowing my way out, I find the halls empty … and the rest of Havoc waiting for us.
“We were trying to give you time to finish up,” Oscar says, his hands tucked into the pockets on his slacks. His gray eyes scan me with bored bemusement, but there’s something else there, a glint or a spark or whatever. He blinks once and it disappears, but I know what I saw. “But we have a problem that needs our attention now.”
“Yeah?” Vic says, lighting up a cigarette right there in the hallway. “What is it?”
“The Ensbrooks and the Charters are outside with Ivy Hightower,” Aaron says, his voice low.
Panic shoots through me, but when I glance over at Victor, he's deadly calm.
“Where?” he asks, and the boys lead us outside toward the basketball courts.
Mitch and Logan Charter, Kyler, Danny, and Timmy Ensbrook, along with Kali and Billie, are all waiting outside. Mitch and Kyler are shooting hoops while the others sort of mill around nearby. It's not hard to see who the ringleader is here. I remember Mitch and Vic standing off outside the school that day.
But Mitch Charter is no match for Victor Channing.
“What the hell do you want?” Vic asks, the cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he makes his way over to stand on the opposite side of the court. “I don't like being interrupted when I'm fucking my girl, so make this quick.”
My cheeks flush hot, but I'm not embarrassed, just irritated. Fucking Vic.
I move up to stand beside him anyway, with Aaron on his other side, and Hael, Oscar, and Callum spread out behind us.
“Ivy here had some interesting things to tell us about last weekend,” Mitch says, tossing the basketball into the hoop and fist pumping when he makes the basket. He swaggers over to us like he thinks he's Hael Harbin or something, running his fingers through his dark hair. But he's nowhere near as handsome as any of the Havoc Boys really, or maybe I'm just biased.
“And I give a shit why?” Vic asks, studying the slightly smaller boy. When I look at Victor standing there with his purple-black hair and all that ink swirling down his arms, something strange happens inside my chest. It’s that same damn pang I felt in the bathroom just now. Affection. My lip curls.
“Ivy says you killed Principal Vaughn,” Mitch announces with a smirk. But it's a smirk that doesn't last long. A very dry, very real laugh escapes Vic's throat as he reaches up and plucks the smoke from his li
ps, flicking it in Mitch's direction.
“We're done here,” he says, turning and heading back for the back entrance of Prescott High.
“Don't you walk away from me,” Mitch snarls, making the mistake of putting his hand on Victor's shoulder.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
That man can move.
In an instant, Victor has Mitch screaming on the pavement, one arm twisted behind Mitch’s back, his knee pressing down on Mitch’s spine.
“Do not fucking touch me,” Victor says, his voice ice-cold, his expression blank but edged with violence. “That's a mistake most people only make once. The only reason you're still breathing is because we're on school grounds. I don't kill people on campus.”
“Help me, you pieces of shit!” Mitch screams at his friends, and surprisingly, they actually come forward to back him up. But as quick as Vic put Mitch on the ground, he releases him and backs up a few steps.
“Now, you listen here. We didn't kill Principal Vaughn, but ask yourselves this: even if we did, is that something you want to keep talking about?” The way Victor stares them down, it's not hard to see that he's making a very real threat.
“We'll call the fucking cops!” Mitch screams back, and only Kyler and Logan keep him from making the worst mistake of his life by rushing Vic.
“With twenty grand in product sitting your trailer?” Oscar asks, lifting up his iPad and showing off a photo I've never seen before. There are bags full of white powder stacked near a table with a scale. It's not hard to figure out what that is. “I doubt it.”
“But Ivy, that big mouth of yours,” Vic says with another dry laugh, shaking his head and wagging a finger at her. “That shit is gonna get you in loads of trouble, sweetie.”
“Screw you!” Ivy yells, stepping forward and wrapping her hands around Danny’s arm. Great. So she's shacking up with one of the Ensbrook brothers now? “I know what I saw that night.”
“You also know you've been spending Vaughn's cash and charging up his credit cards,” Hael growls out, giving me a look and leaning in close to whisper. “Bet you regret being nice to that bitch now, huh?”
“No act of kindness goes unpunished,” I reply, watching Ivy carefully. She's such a damn gossip. How did I ever think letting her go would lead to anything but this? In the past, it wouldn't have been a problem because she would've been too scared of Havoc to open that big mouth of hers. But now that she's got the Ensbrooks to hide behind?
“I've got class,” Vic says, turning away again. “And I don't have time for this shit today. You want to play games with us, Charter, you come find us at Stacey's party.”
“We'll fucking be there!” Kali screams out, dressed in a tight green dress with gold glitter on it. It's tacky as hell, but I'm not surprised. Pretty sure Kali's under the delusion that she looks nice.
“Should we be worried?” Aaron asks as we head inside, but Vic shakes his head.
“About Mitch and crew? You're joking, right?” Victor pauses as the double doors swing shut behind us, and then he turns to me, putting his big hands on either side of my face. When he kisses me, I'm too shocked to have much of a reaction. His tongue sweeps my lower lip and then dives in, consuming me, claiming me. And right there in front of all the Havoc Boys and …
“Ahem, Mr. Channing, Ms. Blackbird,” Ms. Keating says, clearing her throat. Vic chuckles and releases me, glancing over at the vice principal in her black skirt suit. “Do we all have classes we should be attending?”
“Yes, ma'am,” Vic says, sliding his inked fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. “I was just giving my girl a see you later kiss.”
“Right,” Ms. Keating says, giving me a sideways look. “Off you go, all of you.”
We all scatter our separate ways, but as I'm reaching for the door to the gym, Ms. Keating stops me.
“Bernadette, do you have a moment?” she asks, and I shrug. I'd rather get an excused absence from P.E. than have to stand around and pretend like I give a fuck about volleyball. I follow the vice principal into her neat, tidy little office. The walls are covered with inspirational posters that say things like Shoot for the Moon—If You Miss, You’ll Land Among the Stars!
Huh.
Starry-eyed millennial bullshit.
I’m a realist, through and through. That crap doesn’t work on me. The world is not an endless feast of exploration, discovery, and joy. Not for me it isn’t.
“Well?” I ask, cocking a brow and leaning back in the chair. “You definitely didn’t call me in here to discuss my stellar grades, and all the scholarship opportunities coming my way, so what’s up?”
“Bernadette,” Ms. Keating says with a sigh, folding her dark-skinned hands together, her nails painted a cheery yellow this week. Her brown eyes bore into me, but I just stare straight back at her. She’s a good woman, but her cheery optimism and strong conviction would be better spent elsewhere, perhaps on younger kids who still have hope for the future. Those of us at Prescott … well, it’s just too late for us. Ms. Keating is wasting her time. “I’ve noticed you’ve started dating Victor Channing?”
It’s cute that she phrases her statement as a question when we both know she just caught him grinding all over me in the hallway.
With a sharp smile, I lift up my left hand and flash the ring.
“We’re engaged, haven’t you heard? The gossip mill at Prescott usually runs pretty hot.” I drop my hand again and shrug, just another blasé student the vice principal will have to deal with this week. I don’t want her paying anymore attention to me than that. “Is that what you brought me in here to talk about?” I lean forward, tapping my dark nails on the surface of her desk. The color I’ve painted them is called Lethal by Urban Decay. Pretty sure they discontinued the shade, but I have two full bottles, so that should last me a while.
“I’ve heard from other students what happened here during your sophomore year,” she says, and I feel my shoulders get tight. The expression on my face stays bored and uninterested. At least, I hope it does. “Those boys are bullies, Bernadette. In fact, I’d go so far as to say they’re a gang.”
I just stare back at her. She doesn’t just think they’re a gang, she knows, but she’s trying to be gentle with me. Why, I can’t possibly understand. “With Principal Vaughn missing, I’ve been asked to temporarily fill his position. Some of the things I found in his office were concerning …”
My heart begins to pound, but it’s too late. It’s too late for some well-meaning teacher to step in and try to undo all the hurt and damage and hate. I went to the administration for help; I still believed in the system. Well, guess what? The system fucked me. It’s over now. I’ve thrown the good girl towel in. What was it that Callum said? About surrendering to the dark? That it makes life easier?
“Whatever you found, it doesn’t matter,” I say, feeling the room shrink around me. It’s suffocating in here. Maybe I rather would be in PE?
“Bernadette, you approached Principal Vaughn with allegations of bullying, and he did nothing but bury your report. I found your statement in a file box under his desk, along with other items indicating … what do they call themselves?”
“Havoc,” I whisper, putting my hands on the knees of my leather pants and picking at the slick fabric with my nails. “The Havoc Boys.”
“Right, clever acronym. Havoc.” Ms. Keating sighs, and shakes her head for a moment, her colorful earrings swinging. “Well, the Havoc Boys are not, how should I put this, particularly savory characters. You can do so much better, Bernadette. You can be so much better.”
I stand up suddenly, the chair skidding on the old carpet beneath my heels.
“Is this the part where you give me a trophy for trying my best?” I say, cocking a brow and knowing I’m essentially spitting in the face of someone who’s been nothing but nice to me. But I’ve had people be ‘nice’ before, and then turn around and destroy my life, people like Principal Vaughn and Donald Asher, my f
oster brother, that social worker …
“Bernadette …” Ms. Keating starts as I begin to cough, hacking and choking and leaning on the edge of her desk in an Oscar-worthy performance. “Do you need some water?” she asks me, standing up and rubbing my back in a small circle with her hand. “I’ll get you some water.”
She grabs a plastic cup off a stack on the sideboard and pops into the hallway to fill it from the fountain. We hardly have anything as fancy as water bottles or coolers here at Prescott.
While Ms. Keating’s in the hall, I move around the edge of her desk and grab the box. The window’s open, and it’s big enough for me to slip right out of.
Before she’s even finished filling the cup, I’m sprinting down the length of the building and around the corner, heading toward the basketball courts and the hole in the fence. I manage to slip through unseen, but I don’t stop running until I’m standing next to Hael’s car.
Sitting down, I pull out one page after another in that box until I find my statement, scribbled in wavy pencil down a lined sheet of paper.
They’re making my life a living hell. I’m scared to come to school. I’m scared to go home.
I stare at it for a moment, but it’s too much, so I tuck it away and hit the rest of the box. I’m not the first student to have reported Havoc to the principal, but just like with my report, most of them have been filed away and forgotten. Prescott High’s lacking in funds, so I bet these are the only copies of the reports. There’s not going to be anything scanned into the computer system, or any complaints filed via an online system we don’t have. Like I said, we may as well be nineties kids over here.
Flipping through page after page of incident reports and complaints from students, I know there’s enough ammo in here for Ms. Keating to suspend or even expel one or all of the boys. There’s maybe enough info in here to press charges on some of them.
Victor Channing punched me in the face between first and second period for saying Bernadette Blackbird was hot.
Havoc at Prescott High Page 29
