Lust
Page 9
What the fucking hell? Gross. He’s always seemed so uptight and vanilla. I can’t un-see this shit. He better not have done this kinky shit to my saint of a mother, the fucking pervert.
“I have people coming over, so if you could wrap that up, or at least close a fucking door, that will be great.” I grunt, rolling my eyes. I drop my keys on the counter, ignoring the woman squealing and slipping as she tries to get up.
It would be fucking comical if this weren’t our family home and that wasn’t once my mom’s study.
His midlife crisis is getting old.
I grab a cartoon of juice and throw my ass onto the couch in the living room, watching through the doorway as the woman who looks like his old secretary throws on her clothes and hurries to leave.
Wearing only a pair of low-rise slacks, my old man saunters into the living room and stands facing me, lines creasing his eyes and forehead. I hate how much he reminds me of me. I don’t want to be anything like him.
Hands go to his hips to intimidate. Prick.
“We need to talk.”
I sit forward, resting my arms on my knees.
“About you fucking whores in my mother’s house?”
“My house,” he barks.
He’s pathetic. He got the house in the divorce, but this will always be my mother’s house.
“You’ll get used to seeing Melissa around here. She’s not a fling, and certainly not a whore.”
Melissa. That was his fucking secretary.
“If you say so,” I spit out, getting to my feet.
Raging forward, his hand swipes out fast, catching the carton and sending it flying across the room.
“You will learn respect, Rhett. I’m sick of your disrespectful bullshit,” he seethes.
Me disrespectful? He must be fucking high to accuse anyone of that when he’s a disgrace. The only name being whispered about and doing damage to our family reputation is his.
Fucking sluts half his age and cheating with his secretary.
He gives no fucks about my mother, me, or the memory of his son. Not once has he spoken about Robbie or been to his grave. I wonder if he even thinks about him. Does Robbie visit him when he closes his eyes like he does me?
“Are you even listening to me?”
No.
“I give respect to people I R.E.S.P.E.C.T.” My tone is grinding, blood rushes through my veins like a raging current.
I see it coming, but it’s too fast on impact for me to prevent it. The fist hits my jaw, sending my head snapping to the side.
It’s not the first time he’s hit me, just the first time since I’ve been as big as him, and the first time with a closed fist.
My muscles coil as my mind explodes like a ticking time bomb reaching zero. I charge him.
Shock registers in his eyes before my shoulder collides with his midsection, taking him down.
We hit the wood floor hard, making the air whoosh out of him. I rise to rain down a flurry of blows, but stop short when his body doesn’t move.
His eyes closed…and just fucking nothing.
What the fuck is this shit?
Pushing myself off him, I back away, searching his form for life.
What the hell happened? My pulse gallops uncontrollably, and then my stomach rolls.
A red liquid pool seeps from under his head like spilled wine.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
This can’t be happening.
How? I didn’t even hit him.
The blood oozes, and the image of it evokes fear deep in my soul. I killed him.
Stirring in my gut intensifies, and I rush to the toilet to expel my lunch.
I killed him.
I killed him.
Fuck.
Fuck.
With shaky hands, I pull out my cell phone and call the only person I can rely on.
“I’m not late. You said nine,” he shouts out before I can say anything.
“I need you to come now.” My voice sounds hoarse to my own ears.
“What? You sound weird.”
“Come now. Something happened. I need you to come now.”
Voices chatter through the receiver. He’s not alone.
Panic washes over me like a damp mist.
“Who are you with?”
“Rush.”
“Who?”
“Sloth, dumbass,” he says, irritation in his response. He hates me calling everyone by their sin name in favor of their given names.
“We’re on our way.” He ends the call before I can tell him to come alone.
Fuck.
Scenarios of the consequences pulse through my head.
Accidental death. My life goes on.
Self-defense. My life goes on.
Murder charges. I go to prison until I’m decrepit, forgotten about, and left to rot.
I’m pacing the floor of the foyer when God and Sloth arrive. They waltz straight in, and I berate myself for not locking the damn door. Anyone could have walked in here, and then my choices would be out of my control.
“Lock the door,” I urge, receiving frowns from them both.
“I called the others. They’re all on the way,” God tells me without moving to lock the door.
“Why the fuck would you do that?” I bark in alarm.
Walking toward me, God places his hands on my shoulders, making me stare at him.
“You’re freaking me out. You having a bad trip?”
I’m not high. Fuck, I wish I was.
“I killed him,” I vomit out.
Silence. Tick. Tick. Tick.
“I’m sorry?” Sloth says, stepping forward and turning his face to hear me better. “What did he just say?”
A knuckle tap sounds at the front door, and Pride joins us, followed by the others a few seconds later.
Not even a full week we’ve been bonded, and now they all stand in my house, witnesses to murder.
I murdered my dad.
My throat seizes, and I choke, coughing into a frenzy.
“What’s going on?” I recognize Pride’s baritone.
God holds me up, patting my back. “Are you all right?”
Typical of him to be concerned with my wellbeing and not the fact that I told him I killed someone.
“Oh fuck,” someone barks, and all attention slides to whoever ventured into the living room.
I follow them as they descend into the space where my dad lays dead on the floor.
“Okay,” God says, nodding his head and looking between the body and me.
Pride points to my chin, then down to my dad. “He do that to you?”
Why aren’t any of them freaking out? I reach up to the bruise blossoming there.
Sloth looks to be the only one taking this for what it is. They’re all involved with murder. He’s solemn, his legs giving out and all but falling on to the couch.
“This is bad,” he mumbles.
“He hit me, and I just took him down. I didn’t…I don’t…”
“Breathe,” Greed tells me, nodding. “You’re not alone in this.”
“We’ll get rid of the body.” Envy shrugs a shoulder, like he’s talking about moving a couch. “The swamp. Gators will take care of it.”
“It’s not an it. It’s a fucking person. Christ,” Wrath grinds out, sifting a hand through his hair.
“No, Envy is right. We protect our brother. We get rid of the evidence,” Pride pipes up.
“What about when someone asks where the fuck he is?” Wrath demands.
“He’s fucking every floosy in this town. Rhett says he went off with some woman. No one will think otherwise,” God snorts.
“We worry about that after. For now, we need to get rid of him,” Envy says.
Can I do this? Let gators eat his body?
“There’s tarp in the study,” I announce, pointing in that direction.
Pride follows my line of sight. “Do we want to know why there’s tarp in your study?”
“No,
you really don’t. It has his piss on it, so be careful picking it up.”
Curious stares all aim at me.
“Golden shower.”
In and out, in and out. I focus on my breathing as Envy and Pride wrap my dad in the tarp used for his sex games. I bet he never expected this outcome when he bought it for their perversions.
“What car do we use?” Wrath asks, patroling around the room.
“His,” I offer up. “It’s in the garage. No one will see us loading his body into it.”
“Good.” Pride nods his head manically.
“I’ll stay and clean up the blood,” Wrath offers. “I’ll help with that, watch to make sure he gets it all,” Sloth says without moving. Wrath marches out of the room. Cupboards opening and closing sound from the kitchen.
“The rest of us will dispose of the body,” Pride commands.
Dispose of the body.
Dispose of the body.
Dispose of the body.
Rushing out of the room, I sprint up the stairs to vomit where they can’t hear me.
Trapped like sardines in the car, I feel like I’m floating above the scene and not actually a part of it. It’s surreal, If I couldn’t feel an elbow in my ribcage and have no sign of Robbie, I’d swear I was dreaming.
Night has claimed the sky, giving us the cloak of darkness we need.
Pride drives while God directs him to some marshlands beyond God’s property line. He told us they didn’t buy it because it’s uninhabitable and no one goes there so it was pointless. It’s a perfect dumping ground for serial killers.
Or teen boys playing grown men.
“Thank you,” I blurt out from the backseat. I don’t need to elaborate. They all know what I’m thankful for. They’re risking their entire futures for me: a stranger.
“We’re a brotherhood,” Pride grunts, and silence follows.
Turning onto a dirt road that becomes just dirt and shrubbery after a minute, Pride pulls the car to a stop.
“The car won’t go much farther. We can’t risk it getting stuck.”
“We can walk the rest of the way,” Envy says, almost too normal. He throws the door open and jumps out of the car like we’re on a road trip.
Greed’s eyes clash with mine, his brow raised at Envy’s upbeat attitude in the situation,
We crowd the trunk like we don’t know if the body is still going to actually be there, all praying we dreamed this night. But it’s not a dream. His body is exactly where it was placed.
Reaching in, Pride hoofs it over his shoulder like it’s weightless. Not even a grunt. He’s a beast.
“Let’s get this done,” he grumbles, taking off through the trees.
“Not what I thought we’d be doing tonight.” God slaps a hand on my back.
Before I can answer, Pride jumps back, tossing the tarp-wrapped body to the ground with a thud. It rolls across the ground, unravelling, and my father’s body springs free—and moves.
He’s fucking moving.
With sluggish movements he lifts up onto his knees, groaning in pain. Shit.
“What the hell?” He groans lifting himself up further and making it to his feet. Holding a hand to the back of his head he winces and checks his palm for blood.
I need to pick my jaw up that’s slack and say something but words won’t form past the stone in my throat.
Swaying on unsteady feet he looks around until he sees me. Blinking as if to clear his thoughts he groans out. “What’s going on, Rhett?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Pride turns his angry glare on me. “Did you check him for a fucking pulse?”
Well, shit.
“I…erm…”
“Did anyone?” Pride fumes.
A cackle of laughter roars through the air, and Envy bends over to slap at his knee.
“Classic.” He swipes tears from his eyes. “I’ve got this,” he finishes. Pulling a blade from a strap on his ankle, he waltzes toward my dad, making him stammer backwards and trip on the uneven terrain in fear of his life.
I’m solidified, the roots of the wilderness binding me to my spot as heat flushes up my spine and sprouts spores all over my body.
He’s not dead.
“Dude,” God snaps at Envy.
Pride stops his advance with a tug on his arm and a shake of his head.
“What?” Envy asks, confused.
“Dude?” God says again, shaking his head. “Put the knife away.”
“Where the fuck did you get the knife?” Greed screws his face up, judging Envy’s crazy.
“Rhett, what’s going on?” my dad asks, a quake in his voice. Bugs bite at all our skin, and the whispering of the trees makes the place feel haunted as fuck. I inhale the first real breath since taking his ass down earlier tonight. Sucking at the air to fill my lungs, it feels like I’ve been in a choke hold, the devil breathing down my neck, hell climbing into my soul.
“You hit me,” I say, unsure what the hell is happening myself. I thought he was dead. In my panic, I didn’t even check his pulse.
“My head hurts,” he groans.
“You fell and hit your head,” God tells him.
“Why are we out here, and who are these people?” he questions, wary.
Stepping forward, Pride towers over my dad’s hunched over form, his build alone intimidating as shit. “We’re his brothers, and we’re willing to do whatever necessary to protect him, and his future, even if that means you gotta lose yours,” Pride warns, his threat razor sharp.
“What happened tonight?” God asks him. The other’s crowd in around him like serpents ready to strike.
Stuttering and gasping for air, my dad scans the pack surrounding him and nods in understanding. “I fell and hit my head. Rhett took me to hospital. That’s it.”
“That’s it,” Pride repeats, the warning as loud as a lion’s roar.
God’s always had my back, but knowing the lengths others are willing to go for me gives me a sense of invincibility and the feeling of family I’ve been missing lately.
My dad has given me a wide berth since that night. And the bond between the seven of us feels like a lifetime of friendships, not a week.
Pride is already at the convent when I arrive. Lit candles surround him as he reads over a card in his hands.
“Just us?” he asks as I make my presence known.
“God,” I call out, and my best friend steps out from behind the door.
Standing, Pride nods and holds the card between his finger and thumb.
“I’ve been given your task.” His lips slice into a thin line.
Anticipation shudders through me. This is it—what it’s going to cost for my membership.
“You want me to read it out loud, or…?” I take the card from his hand and swallow.
“You should know,” he says, serious and firm.
“The coin given to you by The Elite offers you one trade or future favor. If you cash it in, to forfeit your task, you won’t be given a choice of the second task chosen for you. You will need to follow it through or be expelled as a candidate. Using your coin now leaves you no future favors, shall you ever need something not given freely by The Elite,” he urges with a firm grip to my shoulder. “Think carefully about this choice. You only get one.”
“Noted.” I open the card and read the ink elegantly swirled on the paper.
Lust,
Your task is sin of the flesh.
Miss. C. Griffins.
Academic protégé.
Heir to her family fortune.
Daughter to the Dean of St. Augustine.
Seduce the forbidden fruit.
Document the sin.
Bribery shall The Elite ever need it.
It’s signed with the stamp, same logo as on the coin.
“She sounds like a perfect candidate for The Elite,” I scoff.
“Maybe she was.” Pride quirks a brow, a wicked grin curling up his lip.
Hands bare down on my shoulde
rs from behind, God squeezing. “Romeo, Romeo,” he mocks in a playful manner.
Taking the card from my hand, Pride holds it up. “You got it?”
“Easy,” I offer him a grin of my own, but it’s all bravado. Seducing women out of their panties isn’t an issue for me, I’ve been a pro at it ever since my balls dropped, but filming her without her knowledge and giving it over so fuck knows how many people can view it doesn’t sit well with me.
I’m an asshole, but that much of one?
Pulling a silver lighter from his pocket, Pride lights the card, the flame taking hold, consuming my task.
Dropping it to the floor, we all watch transfixed as the amber flame dies out and ash is the only thing remaining.
Now, all I need to do is find out who Miss Griffin is.
Arriving back at the house, I’m met on the driveway by an electrician’s truck and my dad hurrying out the house.
“You’ll need to order dinner in,” he tells me, rushing to his car.
“What’s with the workmen?” I call after him.
“That’s your best friend’s doing, not mine,” he calls back.
God offers me a wicked smile and lets himself into the house, taking the stairs two at a time.
I follow him to my room and find him in the attached bathroom.
“What the…?”
The light in my bathroom is now a black light.
“You’re going to want to see your tattoo once you smash this task,” he informs me.
“The tattoos only show under these lights. It’s why I’ve never seen my dads.”
I snort. “That, and his is probably lost in his rolls,” I jest.
Ignoring my insult, he says, “At the club, I saw one on the thigh of a woman.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“Do you think it’s wrong to film me fucking her?” I ask, changing the subject and finally letting some of my apprehension filter out.
“Since when do you have morals?” He jabs me in the arm. “You’ll get this done in no time. Don’t let yourself think about her, this is about you.”
About me.
“No matter what the task is, remember,” he reminds me of my own words.
“Right. We have to do this,” I say, not just to him, but to myself.