by James Tate
Her expression turned cagey, and I knew it was because of their brief romance. “How is he? Jasper mentioned something about him being in a fight?”
My mood soured significantly and I scowled in Jasper’s direction. “Something like that,” I agreed. “He’s okay, though. Just ... steering clear of all this shit for a bit.”
I’d texted him between classes and told him about my new place. He badly wanted to come by and check it out, but I wanted him nowhere near any of the Delta bullshit. Look where it had landed him last time.
“Come on,” I said, stuffing the last mouthful of pasta in my mouth. “Let’s get out of here before I catch a plate of spaghetti on my head or something terribly clichéd like that.”
She laughed, following me to drop our dirty trays. “There wasn’t even any spaghetti on the menu today, so that’d be impressive!”
“There are resourceful bullies at the rich kid academy.”
Apparently, I was dabbling in foresight because the afternoon was just as irritating—and creative—as the morning had been. As hard as it was, I kept my mouth shut and my hands to myself throughout all of it. Lashing out at silly high school bullies wouldn’t solve shit. My issues were with Beck, and they weren’t going to magically solve themselves overnight. So in the meantime I would simply ignore, ignore, ignore until—hopefully—the bullies got bored.
10
After school I rushed straight home. I needed to, in order to shower off the chocolate sauce and feathers crusted into my hair. At least it hadn’t been something totally gross like fish guts or dog shit. Still, the expensive sort of chocolate sauce they’d used had hardened into clumps, and even as I ran my shower to warm the water up, I was cringing at the thought of picking it all out. Maybe I could just crank the heat up and let it melt out?
My phone buzzed on the vanity, and I gave it a death glare. Considering Eddy had just dropped me off and Dante had said he was “doing shit” tonight, it could only be Beck. I mean, sure, it could have been Jasper or any of the other guys but my Spidey sense screamed Beck. Especially when it buzzed again a scarce thirty seconds later. Then again. And again.
“Fuck off.” I groaned, ignoring the vibrating device and stepping into the massive double shower.
I took my sweet ass time in the shower, opting for the melt-it-out technique, so by the time I got out, my fingers were pruned and the bathroom was thick with steam.
“Woops, forgot the fan,” I murmured to myself, feeling just a tiny stab of guilt that this was technically my apartment that I was potentially water damaging. It probably wasn’t something rich people ever noticed but my Mom had been a stickler for using the fan when we showered. Mold and buckling from moisture were expenses we couldn’t afford.
My phone flashed its annoying little light at me while I towel dried my hair, and I glared at it. I should just change my number. That was the sane thing to do, right? When you got played by a sociopathic nutcase who now won’t leave you alone, you changed your number. It was only smart.
And yet, my fingers were itching to check those damn messages.
“Nope, no moments of weakness for this chick,” I scolded myself, quickly picking my phone up and rapidly swiping all of the unread messages into the trash. It was safer than leaving them there begging to be read when I couldn’t sleep later.
I dried off and dressed in my comfiest pajamas, then ordered my very first pizza to my very own apartment. Okay, technically it was Richard Deboise on the deed, but he’d made it clear that he was putting my name into some clause that would see it transfer to me on my eighteenth birthday ... only three weeks away.
When I’d eaten half my body weight in pizza and dusted off a full family sized bottle of coke, I dragged my bloated self through to the bedroom. Not that I was going to be able to sleep, but at least I could say I tried.
A shadow appeared in my bedroom as I stepped in the door, and I let out an ear-shattering scream, already bringing my hands up to defend myself.
“It’s just me,” Beck said quickly, stepping forward, and wrapping his hands around my biceps.
I sucked in some deep breaths, in and out, trying to calm myself. “Jesus fucking Christ. How did you get in here?”
His eyes darted to the double glass doors of my bedroom which led out onto the balcony, and I blinked at him. We were three stories up … could Beck have seriously climbed up the side of the building like Spiderfuckingman?
“What are you doing here?” I asked now that we’d both established he was insane and liked to pretend he wore tights in his spare time. “I thought I made it pretty clear that I didn’t want to talk to you.”
Beck narrowed his eyes, taking a step back so he could look me over closely. My hair was still damp, the ends curling across my white tank top. I wore no makeup, my pajamas were not that fancy, and I was out of fucks to give.
“Have you checked your messages?” he asked.
My phone was sitting in plain view on my bedside table. Flashing its obnoxious light at me. “No,” I said what we both already knew. “I haven’t had time.”
Beck’s chest rumbled, and I knew I was pushing him too far, but I still was on the no- fucks-to-give thing, and I wasn’t about to start worrying about Beck’s temper now.
“You’re in danger, Riley,” he said.
I scoffed. “Right, and what could possibly be more dangerous than your crazy ass scaling three stories to stalk me in person?”
“How about a direct threat delivered today to the Deboise estate?” he said, voice like ice. “A threat that detailed how they were going to kidnap you. Torture you. Rape and murder you.”
I choked on my next words, fear slicing my body like cuts from an actual blade. The mental images his blunt words evoked were strong and soul shattering, and I found myself almost stumbling forward. “Are—” I cleared my throat. “Are you serious?”
There was murder in Beck’s eyes, and now that I was no longer looking at him with my own anger, I could finally see—and feel— his fury. Beck was absolutely vibrating with it, and that’s when I knew that the threat was very real. That someone had managed to make it into the Delta compound, and they had managed to deliver their threat.
“Why me?” I whispered, hugging myself to try and ward off my own fear.
Beck made a low, angry growl. “You’ve given them an easy target. The sole female heir. Living out here on her own. Outside of our protection, without our training, and publicly rejected by all of us so that you appear even more vulnerable.”
Fuck. I tried to think it through. In my desperate attempt to distance myself, to not rely on anyone, I had done exactly what Beck said. On the other hand, running back like a scared little bitch, would send the wrong message too.
“Do you have my gun?” I asked.
Beck stepped into me so suddenly that I didn’t even have time to register it before his arms were around me and he had me back, pressed against the wall, my feet dangling as he held me off the floor. He didn’t say anything, just let his heavy, angry breath wash over me as his eyes flared with storm clouds. The moment that delicious, spicy scent of Beck hit my nostrils, I fought my body’s urge to wrap my legs around him and bring him closer to my aching pussy. Fuck. Fuck him and fuck me for being so goddamn weak.
“Put me down,” I said, using anger to hide my arousal.
“Stop. Fucking. Pushing me. Butterfly,” Beck bit out, his jaw solid as he clenched it.
I jerked my head up, anger and stubbornness fighting within me. “I’m fine, Beck. I don’t need Delta. I don’t want Delta. Just give me my gun and I’ll defend myself.”
I gulped at the small tic high in his jaw as he continued to hold me like I weighed nothing. What would happen if I pushed him over the edge? A tiny, stupid part of me kind of wanted to see. The much smarter, larger parts knew, though, that I might not survive it. At least not with my heart intact.
He dropped me suddenly, and I felt light headed at the loss of his warmth and scent. “I’ll t
ake the couch,” he said, storming from the room in a few long legged strides.
What? I mean … what?
I hurried out to find he’d already started to rearrange my couch, throwing all the cushions off and dropping a pillow and throw over the way-too-small for him piece of furniture. “You can’t stay here,” I said breathlessly and half hysterical. “I refuse to let you. This is my apartment. My sanctuary. I will call the police.”
He laughed dryly, and his mask was back in place now. That arrogant, I don’t give a fuck look he wore so well. “Do it, Butterfly. I probably owe them a timely reminder of who owns this town and pays for their service.”
My fists clenched as I fought back a scream. He couldn’t do this! Fuck!
Throwing my hands in the air, I swung around and stormed into my room, cursing that there was no door. I hadn’t expected I would need one in my own apartment. After triple checking my locks on the glass doors—they were all secured—I climbed into the bed and noisily punched my pillows. Huffing a few more times, I settled back into the bed and closed my eyes, more than a little aware that Beck was only a few feet away from me.
I could hear him ditch his jeans and shirt. Use my bathroom. Slide in under the throw. Muthafucker.
Making himself at home like he was the one who owned this place. I angrily rolled over, and then back again, over and over, tossing and turning as I fumed. All the while fighting the hot burn of tears that were choking me. I would not give him the satisfaction. I’d already cried too many tears over that asshole; he deserved no more.
Eventually, I must have fallen asleep, somewhere mid-angry memory, and the next thing, I was locked in my nightmare world. Everything was gray-scale, the only color the splash of red whenever blood spattered across the scene. My hands trembled as I held a gun, and this time, the one in the chair was Beck. He watched me without expression, his eyes locked on mine like I was the only thing in the world he would ever see.
Like I was the last thing in the world he would ever see.
“I trust you, Butterfly,” he said, and I sobbed loudly, tears blurring my eyes. “Pull the trigger.”
“No,” dream me screamed. “No, Beck. I can’t.”
He showed no fear, and it felt like my hands lost all feeling, as I no longer had control over them. Just like a puppet being controlled by the puppeteer, I lost the ability to stop the tragedy from unfolding. My finger squeezed down on the trigger, and I screamed out loud, but it was the same as always. The same as the half a dozen times I’d had this dream since I’d killed the Huntley operative. The crack of the bullet, the heat from the gun, the recoil as my hand jerked, and the thud as the bullet pierced Beck’s skull, wiping the light from his eyes.
I screamed and cried and thrashed as I fought against my puppetmaster.
“Butterfly!”
The soft voice started to penetrate my pain, and I slowed my fight, even though hot tears still seeped out from under my closed eyes.
“Butterfly, please. You need to wake up now, because you’re killing me. I will fucking destroy your new place, because if my anger doesn’t go somewhere...”
“Beck?” I whispered hoarsely, the fact that it was only a dream finally registering. My heart still pounded like it had been real, but the warmth of the man wrapped around me, brought me back to reality much faster than usual.
I pried my eyes open to find Beck’s face mere inches from mine as he held me against his chest. In those first few moments of being awake, I was frantic, my hands running over his face, confirming that I hadn’t blown it to pieces with a perfectly placed head shot.
Beck just held me and didn’t even ask what the hell I was doing.
Eventually I realized it had been a dream, and I remembered that I was angry with him, and I removed my hands from his skin, and swallowed roughly.
“I’m fine,” I said, hoping he would let me go. “It was just a nightmare.”
Beck didn’t take my hint. His body remained flush against mine, and I was having a hard time remembering why the fuck I’d kicked him out of my life in the first place.
Dante. Betrayal. You killed a fucking man and that’s why you’re having these nightmares!
Some timely reminders was all it took, I was back to being furious, thrusting myself away from him, and almost tumbling to the floor.
“What are you doing in my bed?” I demanded, letting my anger and fear flow out of me. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Touching me without my permission. Fuck you, Beck.”
He looked confused for about a second as he stared up at me, and then suddenly he was the angry one, off the bed and stalking around to my side.
“Who the fuck do I think I am?” he bit out, his tone soft, but the fury behind it very clear. “I’m the one comforting your ass when you cry out in your sleep. I’m the one who didn’t just throw a fucking glass of water on you and tell you to shut up.”
I wanted to scream. “I’m only having nightmares because of you! You did this to me!” I slapped my hand on my chest, trying desperately not to cry. I would not give him the satisfaction.
I pointed toward the couch. “Get out. Please. And don’t come back unless I’m being murdered.”
His eyes were glittering jewels in the half-light, watching me with the sort of intensity all predators carried. I expected he would argue with me, but he didn’t. Maybe he noticed that I was hanging onto my sanity by a thread, or maybe he’d had enough of my shit for the night as well, because he just stalked his big body off to the couch, and I crawled back into bed.
* * *
By the time I woke the next morning, thankfully without any more nightmares, he was gone. I did my best not to think about last night, about how it felt to have his arms around me again, about the nightmare which would just not leave me alone, no matter how much I wanted it to. I was associating the killing and Beck, and somehow the two formed that horrible scenario.
One more thing to be mad at him for.
“You look like shit,” Eddy said when she pulled up in front of my building.
“Feel like it too,” I mumbled, so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. “Had a nightmare last night.” Two if you counted Beck breaking in and refusing to leave. “And I didn’t get much sleep.”
She nodded and started to drive, her eyes darting around almost frantically. “Everything okay?” I asked, wondering why she was acting so suspect.
“Did you hear about the threat?” she asked, flying through an intersection without even looking for another car.
I nodded. “Yeah, I heard. Someone delivered a death threat.”
She jerked her head toward me, eyes wide. “Why the fuck don’t you look more worried?”
I shrugged. “I mean, I’m not happy about it or anything, but I really don’t see what the big deal is. Delta have death threats issued to their members all the time. This one’s for me; it had to eventually be my turn.”
Eddy cursed as she sped into the school, slamming her car to a halt near the front door. “Yeah, but the difference is that you’re unprotected. I mean, Dad said they had security on your apartment, but you’re not in the compound. I don’t like it, Riles.”
“There is security on my condo?” I asked, pissed off I wasn’t consulted. It really shouldn’t have surprised me at this point. I probably should phone Richard at least once a week and get all the news off him. I still felt like my bio-dad was an ally I wasn’t utilizing.
Eddy opened her door and jumped out. “Well, yeah, that’s what Dad said anyway. He said Beck was dealing with it and he had security on you.”
It clicked then, and I scowled inwardly. Beck was my fucking security detail. I guessed I could do worse, and even though I wanted to kick him in the balls, again, I would prefer someone I knew versus complete strangers on my couch.
I followed Eddy into the school, my satchel tucked close to my side and my senses on high alert. I never knew where the assholes would come from, and I had to be ready.
Lockers slamme
d around me as the bell rang, and I waved goodbye to Eddy as I hurried toward my class. I needed to get there first.
“See you at lunch,” Eddy called after me.
I waved but didn’t look back. I was on a mission.
Only two students were in the room when I slid inside, and I hurried straight to the back, and settled into the seat in the far corner. This was the safest place to be because no one was behind me for spitballs, gum in my hair, or an icy drink down my back.
The room started to fill, and I ignored the mocking smiles sent in my direction, pretending to read ahead in the text. I should be actually reading ahead—all of my drama lately had me falling a little behind in class, but I was sure I could catch up. If I just had a few days without bullshit.
The teacher entered the room, and I let out a low breath. I was slightly safer in the presence of a teacher. Slightly.
Not that it made any impact on the newest form of stereotypical bullying. Not five minutes into the class and a few beeps and distinctive vibrations sounded through the class as everyone—everyone—got an email at the same time. Including me.
I didn’t immediately check my phone, but the snickers and pointed looks from the rest of the class clued me in pretty quickly that this was today’s first attack. Using technology seemed almost too advanced for some of the morons who’d jumped on the bully-Riley wagon, but they constantly surprised me.
With a heavy sigh, I pulled my own phone out and tapped into the mass recipient email. There weren’t any prizes for guessing what I was about to find—the teacher had already lost control of the class with several girls calling me names like dirty slut and whore. A few boys were taking it further by suggesting I meet them in the bathrooms and show them my “skills,” so I was totally unsurprised to find an image of “me” in the midst of a very graphic four-way sex scene. I had to hand it to whoever had orchestrated this one, the photoshopping was impressive.
With a shrug, I powered off my phone and slid it back into my bag, then faced the front of the class with my very best poker face in place. Hanging out with the Delta boys had taught me a few things in the art of a blank expression, and I could tell my sheer lack of any reaction was confusing the ever loving shit out of my classmates.
