Kings of Quarantine: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep Book 1)

by Caroline Peckham

  A light to my right caught my attention and I paused, my eyes following the line of a path that led out to the incredible old church I’d seen from the far side of the lake. The entrance was dark, but the arching stained glass window to the left of it cast a hazy red and amber pattern on the ground in the shape of a crucifix. I didn’t imagine many people were worshipping at this time of night, but it was clearly left open for students and faculty to come and go as they liked.

  Classical music called to me from inside. I didn’t know much about music like that, but that particular tune was famous. The most spine-tingling song I’d ever heard, used in countless movies to invoke shivers down the spine. Mozart’s Lacrimosa rolled over me like a cold wind and set my pulse pounding.

  I wasn’t in any rush so I headed down the path with my pulse thumping in my throat. Something about this place called to me in the pit of my soul. It screamed my name and lured me in with dark promises. I didn’t understand why because a church should have been a place of comfort, but this one wasn’t. This one felt threatening and equally alluring. Like the devil hid between its walls and had forced God out from its depths.

  I pushed the heavy, wooden door open, slipping inside and my breathing hitched at the sight before me. It wasn’t a church at all, it had been converted into an incredible hang-out with plush couches and an eighty inch TV on the wall. A roaring fireplace stood to my left and the heat of it washed over my cheeks, yet somehow didn’t warm me through at all. A wooden stairway led up to a balcony at the far end of the enormous space, but it was too dark to see anything up there. Doors led out of the central area and my gaze snagged on one which was ajar across the room. A series of stone steps led down to the door and the powerful music was calling from beyond it.

  I wet my lips, knowing I should run, sensing it in every fibre of my being. But I couldn’t ignore the tug in my gut that drew me towards that room. And I found my feet moving in that direction before I could think any better of it.

  I headed down the steps, opening the door and moving into a huge stone chamber which was only lit by a dim blue ring of lighting around the floor. The space had been converted into a state-of-the-art gym, but I barely got to take it in before a weight collided with me.

  My breathing stalled as I was thrown against the wall, my cheek pressing to the icily cold bricks as my hands were pulled painfully tightly behind my back. The solid chest of a man crushed me to the wall and his hot breath ran over my ear, the clean, apple scent of him like bottled danger.

  “What the fuck are you doing in here?” Saint’s arctic voice cut into me and my mouth opened and closed with no words coming out until I forced my throat to work. The music was building to a crescendo and it felt like the climax was going to be an execution.

  “The door was open.” Great answer, Tatum.

  “So you thought you’d just come wandering in to my private property?” Saint snarled, the heat of his body almost too much to bear.

  “I didn’t know it was private – it’s a church!” I jerked against his iron hold, trying to calm my mind enough to snag onto my training. I jerked one hand free then threw my elbow back. He laughed as it slammed into his ribs, giving me an inch of room to wheel around in his arms. His palms slammed to the wall either side of me and he leaned in close with a wicked sneer.

  “This isn’t a church, Barbie doll. It’s a temple. My temple.” His eyes dripped down to my outfit, scouring it like he didn’t approve, but the way his pupils dilated said he did.

  I swallowed the hard lump in my throat, straightening my spine against the wall and schooling my expression. “You can’t be serious?” I scoffed.

  “Deadly serious,” he hissed like a snake and I wondered if his saliva was venomous. It wouldn’t have surprised me in the least.

  His chest was heaving and I couldn’t help my gaze from dropping to take in the hardened muscles of his chest and the inked words curving around his ribs. The days are long, but the nights are dark.

  “Most women would pay good money to see me this close and this naked,” Saint growled and I snapped my gaze back to meet his. His eyes were as black as a void, sucking me in and trying to feed on everything good inside me until all that was left was the bad.

  The wildest, hidden part of me was having a damn field day, soaking wet and panting for him while I battled to stop her from peeking out through my expression.

  “I didn’t realise you were a prostitute, Saint,” I said. “Sounds like you’re out of my price range. But don’t worry, I don’t need to pay for a good lay, I can get that on my own merit.”

  He chuckled darkly, closing the distance between us even more until he seemed to suck away every ounce of oxygen in the vicinity. “Wit will get you one place with me, Barbie. Crushed beneath my heel. And you might be able to get a good lay by licking your adequate lips and pushing up your mediocre cleavage, but you don’t get a mind-blowing fuck with a god unless you’re something special.”

  His words sliced at my chest, intended to cut their way to my heart, but I got my defences up before he could touch that. I released a derisive breath and ducked under his arm. He went to grab me and I danced away from him with a laugh.

  “I imagine the only one you deem special enough to fuck you is yourself. So give your right hand my regards. She’s a very lucky girl.” I winked and ran away, hearing him coming after me as more laughter bubbled from my chest. Holy hell, why does taunting the devil feel so good?

  I made it out of the church doors and into the woods before I glanced back. Saint stood in the open doorway, his shadow stretching out into the night and consuming mine.

  “You come here again and you’ll regret ever enrolling at Everlake,” he said just loud enough for me to hear and I swallowed hard before heading off down the path.

  If darkness was thrilling, Saint Memphis was an ocean of it. My heart pounded harder than it had in years. There was so much about him I found repugnant. The power trip he was riding, the holier-than-thou bullshit he spewed, the goddamn church he’d claimed for himself like he really was a saint. It was disgusting. And yet a primal part of me was falling for it hook, line and sinker. She would have worshipped his body like the god he thought he was. But better than that, she would have had him worshipping at her altar too.

  I finally reached a sign for the Oak Common House and turned down another track which led me to a wooden pier stretching out into the perfectly still lake. My lips parted at the sight of the huge cabin suspended above the water. A balcony ringing it was thronging with people and fairy lights strung around the railing reflected in the lake below, making it look like some kind of ethereal set plucked right out of a fantasy movie.

  I headed down the pier and students eyed me curiously as I approached. My gaze hooked on Blake Bowman who was leaning back against the railing on the left, a beer held loosely between his fingers as a pick ‘n mix of girls laughed at whatever he was saying. He could have had whoever he wanted, but it was me his eyes found and they illuminated like he’d just struck gold. He was wearing a pale grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms and his dark hair was swept back stylishly in a purposefully messy way.

  My lips tilted up at the blazing intensity of his stare. If Saint was ice, Blake was fire. And I didn’t know which one I preferred to die by.

  I stepped forward but a large guy in a football jersey moved into my path, holding out his hand. “Hey fledgling, where’s your invite?”

  I fought an eyeroll as I reached into my purse and produced the chicken bone Blake had given me and the boy crowed loudly to the sky as he took it.

  “Tatum Rivers is gonna initiate tonight!” he hollered and more crowing sounded out from the party as he welcomed me into the fold.

  Blake carved a path through the girls surrounding him as I moved onto the balcony ringing the cabin. The students around him backed up to give him room until we were contained within a ring of space, like an invisible forcefield lived around him. Untouchable. An
d yet…

  His hand curled around mine before he tugged me a step closer, inspecting me from head to toe. I let my eyes roll to the sky as I waited for his verdict, not that I really gave a shit what he thought of my outfit. I wore it for me, no one else.

  “Beautiful.”

  “Typical,” I tossed back and he growled low in his throat, the sound setting my skin on fire.

  “You didn’t let me finish, Tate.” He dragged me closer still so I entered the cage his body made and his rich and spicy cologne called to me from his skin. “Beautiful would be an insult to you tonight. Hypnotising is closer. But enslaving is the closest.”

  “If I make a slave of you then why isn’t there a drink in my hand yet?” I teased and his eyes glittered hungrily.

  He tugged me along, the crowd parting once more to let us through as he guided me into the cabin. Heat swept over me as I took in the most extravagant common space I’d ever seen. Couches and armchairs filled the huge room and to the right of them was a long bar with free tea, coffee and freaking chilled cucumber water. Someone had placed a couple of kegs on it too plus rows upon rows of liquor and soda sat beside them. The thump of pop music filled the air, the lights low and the chairs pushed away from the centre of the room to create an already thriving dance floor.

  Blake gestured to a freckly guy standing at the end of the bar with his hands behind his back and he came running over like there was a zombie trying to chomp on his ass.

  “Take her coat,” Blake demanded and the boy rushed forward to pull it from my shoulders.

  “Oh that’s not – well alright then.” I let him pull the leather jacket off then he scurried away to hang it on a hook by the door. “What’s with the gofer?” I taunted and Blake breathed a note of amusement.

  “He’s one of the Unspeakables.” He slid an arm around my waist, tugging me against his hip as I frowned.

  “You mean like in that legend everyone keeps going on about? Do you and your friends seriously call yourself the Night Watchers?” I snorted and his eyes darkened to pitch.

  “Keepers,” he corrected, sharp enough to send a delicious shiver through my body. Oh I don’t mind that tone one bit, but it would sound even better in a bedroom. “And yeah, we have a whole flock of little sheep doing our bidding. But don’t worry sweetheart…they deserve it.”

  I cocked a brow at him, lowering my voice. “What did that guy do then, put a pin in that big head of yours?” I teased and he smirked.

  “He used a screwdriver actually. Frightful fucking mess,” he joked and I released a laugh, though I wasn’t entirely done being curious about his apparent servants.

  He led me further into the party and my gaze caught on a tattoo which he had inked on the back of his neck as I followed him. It looked like an arrow soaring through the air towards some unknown target, a feather hanging from its shaft, caught in the wind caused by its flight. There was something captivatingly beautiful in its simplicity and I was struck with the urge to run my fingers over it.

  “Nice tattoo,” I commented and Blake turned his green eyes on me with a smirk.

  “It’s my Night Keeper mark,” he said with passion flaring in his gaze. “Saint and Kyan have them too. I don’t generally go in for tattoos but this is different. It’s important.”

  I bit my lip as he turned away to lead me further into the party and my gaze trailed over the tattoo again. There was something about it that just begged my gaze to stay with it.

  He led me up to the makeshift bar and leaned in close to my ear to speak over the music. “So, what’s your poison?”

  I eyed the array of liquors on the bar as my neck tingled from the touch of his breath. Eyes were swinging our way from every angle and I realised spending time with any of the Night Keepers was bound to make you a topic of conversation around here. But I didn’t have anyone to impress, so I didn’t really care who was watching me. Even when a group of girls close by pointed and glared, jealousy written in the crinkles in their pretty faces, I just smiled politely and shrugged it off.

  I pointed at the bottle of dark spiced rum then to a bottle of ginger beer further down the bar.

  “Dark and Stormy?” Blake asked, picking up a lime and a knife and I nodded, watching as he filled a glass with ice and poured a generous measure of rum into it. He squeezed half the lime in too before rubbing it around the edge of the glass and adding the ginger beer.

  He passed it to me before sucking the lime juice off of his fingers and I sucked on my lip, part of me wanting to make sure he hadn’t missed any.

  “Thanks.” I grinned.

  He grabbed another beer, twisting the cap off and tossing it in the trash. “Cheers.” He held the bottle out and I clinked my glass to it, my eyes remaining on his as I took a sip. The sharp and sweet mixture crackled over my tongue, leaving the lasting taste of ginger in my mouth.

  “So the teachers just let us get away with this?” I asked him, looking to the line of alcohol again.

  “Most of them are happy to turn a blind eye seeing as they don’t wanna piss us off.” It was obvious by us he meant him and the other Night Keepers. With Saint’s dad being the governor for the entire state, I wasn’t exactly surprised about that. But what about Blake and Kyan? What was their claim to this empire?

  “So which one of your parents makes you a prince?” I asked and a faint frown lined his brow for a moment. He swigged his beer and it was gone a second later.

  “My dad owns the Redwood Rattlesnakes.”

  I stopped drinking, stopped fucking breathing. “You’re kidding?” The Rattlesnakes were the best. If you were from Sequoia State, you supported the Redwood Rattlesnakes no question about it.

  “Nope, there’s a picture of me as a kid bouncing on the knee of Derrick Northfield after they won the Superbowl,” he said with a look that said this was completely normal to him. “Dad owns a bunch of stadiums too.” He shrugged and I shook my head at him.

  “So I guess you’re the guy to come to if I want tickets?”

  “You like football?” he asked, his eyes lighting up.

  “I’ve watched every Rattlesnakes game with my Dad since I can remember. He’s got this beat up old cap he wears whenever we watch it.” I smiled at the memories and Blake grinned at me like he wanted to see inside my head.

  “Hey asshole, is she initiating or what?” Kyan’s voice shattered my thoughts and we whipped around to where he was spread out in an armchair. Like, his body was literally taking up every inch of space. His legs were stretched wide, his arms draped over the back of it and a glass of whiskey hung in his fingers with a single ice cube floating around in it. The chair was probably having the time of its life.

  “You are, aren’t you Tate?” Blake purred, sliding his arm around my waist and I didn’t mind that at all.

  “I didn’t think it was an option,” I jibed, tossing back my drink for some Dutch courage. Blake smoothly took the glass out of my grip and shoved it into the hand of some unsuspecting guy. He looked pissed for half a second before he realised who’d passed it to him and he quickly bowed his head in deference.

  Kyan pushed out of his chair, pointing to the door at the back of the cabin which led onto the balcony and Blake steered me after him outside. My gaze snagged on the tattoo on the back of Kyan’s neck as we followed him out. It was an arrow just like Blake’s though the head of his was a little sharper and the details on the feathers were different. But it was just as captivating, just as alluring and clearly designed to match. There should have been something silly about them having matching tattoos but there wasn’t – it was actually intimidating somehow. Like the three them were one and the same. Part of this exclusive little club that didn’t let anyone else in. But that wild part of me was aching for an invite all the same.

  My heart drummed harder as the surrounding students moved after us, their excitement clear as the chatter in the room grew deafening.

  My breathing became shallow as I stepped outside into the cool night air and
gazed down several feet to the mirror-like water stretching out before me.

  “Where’s Saint?” Blake asked.

  “He was half naked the last time I saw him,” I said and Blake stiffened, yanking me around to look at him.

  “What?”

  The light in his eyes was gone and there was an endless tunnel of darkness awaiting me in them. I peeled his hands off of me as he held on too tight, my heart juddering in my chest. “I wandered into his temple and disturbed his creepy ass workout routine before he sacrificed a goat or whatever he had planned.”

  Blake barked a laugh, his posture relaxing in a wave. “You went there? Fuck, you’re lucky you’re still breathing.”

  I frowned at him, not really finding his tone all that amusing. He eyed my expression then lowered his voice. “Not that I’d let him lay a finger on you, Tate.”

  “I can look after myself,” I said airily.

  “Hm,” he grunted like that turned him on and I released a breath of laughter.

  “So what does this initiation involve then?” I asked, but just as I spoke all of the lights went off in the entire cabin and we were plunged into darkness.

  “You will be weighed,” Saint’s ice-cold voice filled the air and a single beam of light dissected the air above us. He was on the mother-effing roof of the cabin, gazing down at me wearing a crisp white shirt and black slacks. He had a flashlight in his grip and he swung it into my eyes so I winced from the brightness. I felt Blake slipping away from me along with the whole crowd and knew I was gonna have to face this alone.

  “You will be measured,” Saint continued in a low purr. He jumped from the roof to a round of gasps, landing in front of me and making the wood beneath my feet tremble as he landed. “But will you be found wanting?”