by Amo Jones
“No way, you suit your name. So, what are you doing here?” India asks, butting out her smoke in the sand. “No offense, but you look a little bit younger than everyone else here too.”
Just as I open my mouth, Orson’s hands are on my shoulder and he’s squeezing roughly. “Duchess, you making friends?”
“She is.” India smirks up at Orson. This is where it happens. They get excited because they see my brothers and then suddenly, I’m back to square one and it’s just me and Sloane. Most girls my age are opportunists. They see my brothers and they decide they like them more than they like me.
India wipes her hand and puts it out to Orson with a friendly smile. “I’m India.”
Orson side-eyes her just as Royce and Storm come up behind him. “Orson.”
They all go through meeting India, and I watch as her eyes flick around, disinterested in any of my brothers. Weird, I thought to myself. Not what usually happens.
Maybe India is different?
The bonfire heats up, just as Royce slips in beside me, his arm hooking around my waist. He nuzzles his nose into the crook of my neck, balancing his red cup in his other hand. “Mmmm, you always smell this good?” His voice is deep, vibrating over my flesh and hitting every nerve on its way out.
“So, you like them a little older?” India raises an eyebrow at the two of us.
“What?” My eyes widen in horror. I shove Royce away from me. He chuckles so loudly his head has to tip back. “No! He’s my brother.”
Confusion flashes over India’s face. “Really?” The corner of her lip curls, not in disgust, but shock.
“Yes, foster brother, but still brother.”
“Foster brother is a synonym for loophole, just sayin’,” Royce teases, flashing his tongue cheekily.
I roll my eyes. “Ignore him, he’s obviously drunk. Or high.”
Royce laughs, just as Annette comes up behind him, her arms hooking around his neck as she leans down.
“And you?” India asks me, cocking her head. “Do you drink or smoke?”
“No,” Royce answers for me, his eyes boring into mine. “She’s too young.”
I grit my teeth. It’s not that I’m not used to his overbearing nature, or that I’m not used to him doing this same shit with me every single time we party, but it’s that every time he does it, it wears on my patience.
“She’s fifteen, not twelve.” India rolls her eyes and before I can argue back to Royce, a red cup is in my hand, alcohol sloshing over the rim, spilling over my hand. “One won’t hurt you, and you know you got it from me, not some shady motherfucker at the bar.”
Royce leans forward to take the cup out of my hands when I pull away from him, eyebrows raised in challenge. “You know, she’s sort of right. I mean, just how much trouble can I really get into when I have all three of my big, overprotective brothers here to scare everyone away?”
“Duchess…” Royce warns, his jaw set.
“Leave her be,” Annette whines, kissing on Royce’s neck. “No one touches her anyway.” She laughs, but Royce whacks her hand away from him.
“Royce, just this once, and I’m not asking for permission.” I narrow my eyes in challenge. I know he wants to fight, and being Royce, he wouldn’t back down from it for the sake of everyone watching. He doesn’t give a shit. But before he can say anything else, I turn my back on both of them and face India.
“So,” I murmur, sipping on the—what I’m guessing—is bourbon and Coke, but also not really interested in drinking now that my point is made. “How come I’ve never seen you at one of these?”
India chuckles, but her face falls before she can cover it. I watch as the warmth from the scorching flames sparks an orange hue over her otherwise pale cheeks. “I guess I’m new. I start my senior year on Monday, actually. Not too excited about it.”
Placing my full cup down onto the sand, I snuggle into my hoodie. “Stone View isn’t bad. It’s about the equivalent to Hogwarts, only everyone is muggles and instead of Hagrid, we have Hagdid. I shit you not, our headmaster’s name is Hagdid.”
We both burst out laughing as we slip into small talk. After trading cell numbers with India, I stand from my seat and swipe off the sand that’s on my butt. “I’ll text you on Sunday, maybe we can meet up. You can meet Sloane. You’ll get along disturbingly well.”
India gazes up at me, the depth to her hazel brown eyes holding so many secrets. I get the feeling that she has lived a thousand lives. What would she be doing at Lake View?
“Sure!” She winks at me. “See ya later, Little J.”
Hated that name, loved her.
Weaving through the sea of drunk bodies, I keep my head down. I’m almost at the beginning of the steep track that connects the beach to the back yard of Orson’s house when a hand connects to my arm.
“Royce.” I turn to face him, expecting some cheeky smirk and maybe some scolding for drinking, but instead his eyes are focused on me, searching my body.
“You wanna go home?”
I run my tongue over my teeth. “It’s late. We can just crash in the pool house like always.” As we’ve gotten older, our connection or bond has become stronger, and that’s a testament for how strong it is because when we first laid eyes on each other, we were done. It was as though the universe just fucking shifted anytime we were around each other after that. He embedded himself into my heart and I sewed my name across his limbs. We fight a lot, but we love hard and when it comes to him and me, one cannot exist without the other.
Royce Kane is undeniably my best friend.
He nods his head toward the ocean. “I’ve only had a couple. I can drive.” His hand slips down from my arm and his fingers intertwine with mine. At the sudden connection, it’s as though my heartbeat pulses for the first time ever. Blood rushes through my ears and my cheeks flush hot. I’m thankful—so fucking thankful—for the blanket of the night. “Come on, Dutch…” I’m fifteen, he is eighteen. I never feel uncomfortable around him in that sense—ever, but—wait. Wait, the fuck on a minute. Why am I sizing up our ages?
Shivering with the sudden repulsiveness of what just passed through my mind, I retract myself from him and fling my arms around my torso protectively.
As if that could help.
As if Royce wouldn’t just tear everything and anything down to get to what he wants if he needs to.
“I don’t want to deal with the questions. I’ll just go up to the room.” It wasn’t all a lie, because I truly couldn’t be bothered with all the raised eyebrows and questions from people who would see us leave on Green Stone.
“Fuck them,” he says, shrugging.
I open my mouth, deciding we could just stay out on the boat instead of in the pool house, when skinny fingers and red nails come into view, spreading out over Royce’s stomach. Annette gazes at me from behind his arm. “Hey, baby, I’m tired, can we go on your boat like you said?”
My stomach tightens as all the air is being sucked out of my lungs.
He fucking invited her onto the boat before me. Undiluted rage simmers below my skin as I spin around and begin running up the stairs that lead to the main house. Usually I take these slow since there are so many of them and the view going up is beautiful to take in, but I want to get as far away from them both as quickly as possible. Five minutes later and I’ve reached the top, but I don’t stop. I run across the well-manicured lawn, dodging the illuminated pool and head straight for the door of the pool house. Sliding it open, I slip inside and slam it closed, quickly locking the door once I’m in. My heart is beating in my chest, tears clinging to the back of my eyes. Why the fuck am I crying? Deep down I know I’m being unreasonable, and to be fair, Royce is always with someone, prancing around. Why is it different now? Why am I beginning to feel different toward him?
Removing my hoodie and tossing it onto the floor, I swipe away my unreasonable tears and drag my ass to the other side of the room, where my single bed awaits.
An arm hooks around my w
aist, pulling me into a hard, warm body. I already know who it is before I’ve turned to look. I could smell him in any room. Without thinking, I wriggle into his embrace when my butt pushes against his crotch. He’s hard—rock fucking hard—and I know that everything inside of me is saying this is wrong. We’ve never been in this situation—ever. He has slept in the same bed as me, but we were kids then. We aren’t now. His fingers spread out over my tummy and I hold my breath, afraid that if I breathe, it will be too loud. Too fast. Too desperate. Too obvious what he does to me. His fingers move down as his lips press against the nape of my neck.
“You’re a fucking brat, you know that, right?” His voice is low, yet distant. It doesn’t matter, because my hips begin seeking his touch as if they’ve been reunited for the first time in centuries. He stops my movement at once, forcing me still while pressing his palm over my lower abdomen. I swallow past my tight throat, trying so hard to ignore the outline of his hardness pressing against my butt. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck. There would be no going back after this. I don’t care. He usually does, but his teasing always stops before the touching. We’ve never touched, never kissed. Never done anything that would cross that line, except maybe light flirting that I mostly think I’m imagining.
He rolls me onto my back as his hand covers my mouth. He pulls my legs until I’m spread wide. The outline of his hair is all I can see in the darkness of the room. We’re still in the pool house. Did he chase me?
“You have to be quiet, Duchess.” His head turns and I follow his eyesight to where Annette is sleeping peacefully on the floor snuggled in blankets. He snuck into my bed while she slept. I don’t care.
Nodding my head, he loosens his grip slightly, and that’s when I feel the heat of his chest against mine. He grinds his hips into me slowly, sliding his hand away from my lips as his come down to mine. My chest turns to fire, my belly igniting along with it at the connection of our lips. His tongue licks mine with the same possessiveness that I always knew he had as his head dips beneath the covers.
“Roy!” I whisper-yell, reaching for his hair. He pushes my hands away and slips my panties to the side. I really should have worn pants. “R—” His warm mouth covers the tip of my clit, his tongue sliding up and circling the nub.
“Oh my f—” One of his hands is back on my mouth as his tongue laps over my clit. It takes two seconds for my legs to shake and my core to clench as my orgasm ripples over my innocent body in waves. He moves up my body, stretching my legs wide.
“You wanna do this?” He brushes his nose with mine, his lips grazing slightly. “There’s no going back.”
“I don’t want to go back. Take it.”
“Why?” he asks, his fingers flexing near my collarbone. His thick tip is pressing against my wet entrance, and all it would take would be one little… I push my hips up and his cock is an inch inside, stretching my tight walls. I flinch. “Why, Duchess?” he whispers against my lips.
I wrap my arm around his neck and nibble on his bottom lip. “Because I’d only ever want it to be you.” He slides inside of me at once, filling me to the brink until I feel my soul seep out of my body and a scream rip out of my lips—
“Duchess!”
Orson? Someone is shaking my shoulders.
“Wake up! Now!”
“What?” My eyes pop open and I’m met with the darkness of the room bar one lamp. Orson is standing over me, his hoodie thrown over his head. “Royce got into a fight with Derek Chambers, we’re going back to your house.”
“What?” I ask, propping up onto my elbows. “Why does it matter if he got into a fight with Chambers!” Fucking idiot boys, and speaking of idiots… that dream was—no comment.
“It matters because Royce fucked him up good and almost killed him. We’re leaving—now.”
“What?” I fly out of the covers so fast and start yanking on my hoodie. “Where’s Royce?” I swipe my hair out of my face and zip it up. He almost killed him? This is bad. Royce doesn’t need another legal stint.
“Royce is fine, he’s already on the boat. Chambers barely got a hit in.”
I didn’t ask why Orson was here and Royce wasn’t. I swipe up my phone and push it into my pocket before we make our way back down to the beach. People have long since left, and the only boat that’s docked in is Royce’s. There are a few people scattered across the shore, asleep, but for the most part, it was just a fucking mess. I feel bad for Orson’s cleanup crew.
Picking up my pace, I run across into the water and jump into the boat, when I see Royce lying on his back on one of the sofas with his arm covering his face. One leg is hanging over the chair while the other is perched up.
“He’s asleep. I’ll drive.” Orson begins untying us when I start up the boat. Storm walks out from below with a pale face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask Storm, who looks more uncomfortable than usual.
He shakes his head. “He almost killed him.”
I run my tongue over my lip, turning my head over my shoulder to cast a glance at Royce, who still hadn’t moved. I’d like to say that I didn’t think Royce had it in him to seriously kill someone, but if you give him something worth dying for, he will kill for them.
I clear my throat, my thoughts on the dream I had just minutes ago. It all felt too real. Way too real. Seeing him so soon after the vivid images that are still fresh in my head is raising goose bumps over my skin and making my heart beat faster than it ever did before.
Storm nudges his head over his shoulder. “I’ll drive. Go do your thing.” I release the steering wheel and inch backward until I’m back near Royce. The inside and outside of the boat is lit up from the neon LED lights, deep blue hues accentuating his figure. His dark jeans, military-style boots tied loosely at his feet, and the hoodie that’s pulled over his head.
“Are you gonna stand there and stare or start yelling so we can get this over with?” He shifts his arm above his head and I finally get the first peek of his chiseled high cheekbones and soft lips. Lips I felt in my dream. All too real. Why the fuck did that feel so real. “Come here.” The way his voice wraps around those simple words is the very reason why my heart drops to my stomach. His tongue flicks out and dampens his bottom lip. “Now, Duchess…”
Finally, I take a seat beside him, blowing out a steady breath of air. His arm hooks around my waist and he yanks me down onto his chest, while keeping me to his side, both arms now wrapping around me as he pulls me in close and buries his nose in my hair. From a distance, if you weren’t in our circle, it would look intimate, and it definitely feels it to me right after that dream, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that to Royce, it would just be a big brother hugging his younger sister type hug.
“Royce?” I whisper, playing with the gold curb chain that hangs around his neck.
“Mmmm?” he growls out.
I chew on my bottom lip nervously. “What happened with you and Chambers?”
I feel his body turn rigid beneath me, and I almost feel guilty for bringing it up. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
But I do worry. I worry a lot.
“You almost killed him?” I press up from his chest, bringing my eyes level to his. The outline of his features are hard, sharp enough to cut me in half. I’m momentarily trapped in the twisted knots of his gaze, before my eyes drop to his mouth. Soft lips shaped by hard edges.
Without even thinking, my tongue runs over my mouth.
He sucks in an audible breath, and my focus comes crashing back to his. His eyes are on my mouth now, thick brows pulled in.
“Roy?”
He releases his breath as a slow, menacing smirk crawls over his mouth. “Mmmm, you’re just a bit of fucking mischief, huh, Duchess.” He moves closer until his lips are grazing against my earlobe. “You might wanna be careful with the way those pretty little eyes look at me.”
I flinch, crawling off his body. Just as I’m back on my feet, his hands come to mine and I find myself watching his fac
e again. It’s painful how perfect Royce is. I’m sure I always knew it, only things are starting to shift into an area that I’m not sure I’m comfortable with addressing right now.
“Hey!” He yanks on my fingers and my eyes catch his grazed knuckles. Bloodied and spoiled with cracks as deep as the ones forming in my heart. “I was joking, Duchess, you know that.”
“What do you mean?” I murmur, swiping my unruly hair out of my face as the boat slows, pulling up to the dock. “What part?”
I can hear Dad cursing in the background the second we’re anchoring in. Royce winks. “You tell me.” He jackknives up from his position, clutching his stomach. “This is going to for sure give Dad a hernia,” Royce banters, and just as he’s walking past me, I catch the dampness on his stomach. My hand flies out to his arm, halting him. He’s big enough to push me away, but he doesn’t.
“Royce…” I whisper, pulling him backward.
He staggers back, and his face pales. “What’s the matter, Duchess? Gonna finally kiss me now that I’m dying?”
Before I can register his words or take them in, he falls against me, pushing me to the ground, There’s yelling in the background, with Mom and Dad both diving into the boat. Everything is a blur, my world is spinning. Someone is screaming so loud that my ears bleed, and it’s not until I’m tearing off his hoodie to see the stab wound in his stomach that I figure out that, that someone screaming…
is me.
My world is caving in around me. I’ve been rocking back and forward in the waiting room since we got here. They still haven’t let us see Royce, and he’s apparently still in surgery. Running my hands through my hair, I continue to rock furiously, attempting to talk myself down from the outburst I can feel rising.
