Wilder (The Renegades)

by Rebecca Yarros

  He shrugged and started peeling the label on his empty bottle. “Not really.”

  “I know we don’t talk about it”—his eyes flashed in my direction—“but I’m going to say this once and let it hang there. You’re not going to find the answer to missing her underneath that girl’s dress, or the one after her, or the one right after her.”

  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I’m fine.” The hard I-will-kill-you look he threw at me said otherwise.

  “Right. Well—”

  “Drop it,” he growled. A second later his Casanova smile was in place, ready to woo another Band-Aid for his still-hemorrhaging heart.

  “You’re Wilder, aren’t you?” Sorority-Girl Barbie number one asked me, leaning close to be heard over the pounding bass in the ship’s club.

  “I am,” I answered with my expected grin.

  Mischief Lounge was full because it was a Friday night, which meant no classes tomorrow. It was our only day in Athens, and I’d promised Leah we’d do all the artsy stuff she wanted, as long as we could pause to play a game of human Zorb Ball bowling in the Olympic Stadium for the cameras. And then, of course, we’d be holed up the rest of the weekend to get the massive amount of make-up work done that we’d missed while in Mykonos. Worth it.

  But for now, I was on Wilder duty, playing the bad-boy card so Bobby could get his shots in.

  “I’m Candy,” she said with a dentist-white smile and fuck-me eyes, then motioned over her shoulder. “And this is my friend, Jules.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I answered. On the opposite side of the booth, Landon was looking at Jules like he’d discovered his weekend. Typical.

  “Do you mind?” she asked as she sat on the spare three inches between me and the edge.

  I moved over so she didn’t fall on her ass. “Not at all,” I answered, because that’s what I was supposed to do, especially given the microphones right behind us in the fake-as-hell lotus flowers.

  Jules made herself at home on Landon’s lap.

  If Candy thought she’d pull the same shit, she was sorely mistaken. Damn it, I should have had the talk with Leah today, but she’d been spastic over academics. I couldn’t exactly go documentary-public without her saying yes. Everything they’d caught in Mykonos I could have edited out with the right amount of leverage.

  “Ooh!” Candy exclaimed, her boobs bouncing in her tight pink tank top as she flagged the waitress down. “Can we get shots?” She sent me a sideways glance. “Maybe some Sex on the Beach?”

  Fucking spare me. It wasn’t like I could turn her down on camera.

  “Sounds good,” I said with a nod to the waitress. “Thank you.”

  “So why do they call you Wilder?” Candy asked, her hand disturbingly close to my thigh. Usually I’d be all for it. Why not spend a night with a gorgeous woman and no strings attached?

  But now I had Leah, and Candy was no Leah.

  “It’s my last name,” I answered.

  She pouted. “Is that really all there is?”

  “Because he’s always up for any trick or any challenge. He’s got a wild streak a mile wide,” Landon answered.

  “I like wild,” Candy said, moving even closer.

  I slid another six inches away.

  “And why are you Nova?” her friend asked.

  “Casanova has a way with the ladies,” I helped him out. Not that Landon needed any help. Hell, he needed someone to yank back the leash and remind him who he was underneath the man-whore. It just sucked that the reminder was going to come at the cost of my own relationship.

  She’ll understand if you tell her, one part of me argued.

  You blew past the honesty door, bud. Enjoy this while it lasts, the other added.

  But losing Leah… God, I couldn’t even think about it. A feeling between vomit-worthy nausea and midnight-black sorrow possessed my body every time the reminder crept in that I’d already fucked up the best thing I’d ever had.

  “So I can see,” Candy said while her friend giggled.

  I ran my thumb down my glass of ice water, wiping away a streak of condensation. Was this really how I’d spent my nights before coming on the Athena? Is this what had made me happy?

  Hell, had I actually been happy?

  Busy, yes. Challenged, sure. My life was demanding, and awesome at times, but I couldn’t remember feeling…happy. Not in the way I had been these last few days.

  “…don’t you think?” Candy asked, looking at me for a response to a question I hadn’t heard.

  And that’s what I got for not listening.

  “I think Wilder might disagree,” Landon answered, bailing me out with a discreet nod. “Sure, Bermuda was great, but I think he liked Mykonos the best.”

  I took the cue. “Yeah, there is something to be said for the beaches there.”

  “Speaking of sex,” Candy said as the waitress delivered our shots.

  Nice segue.

  “To making unforgettable memories with no regrets,” Candy said, raising her shot, “and no strings.” She turned her blue eyes on me, and I nodded, slamming back the sickly sweet shot while I prayed for patience.

  “Well, you two look like your dance cards are full,” Penna said as she reached the table, decked out in club wear that screamed, “look, but touch and I’ll throat-punch you.” It was her specialty.

  “Penna,” I said, trying to keep the relief out of my voice. She’d always been good at fending off attention when I wanted to be left alone.

  “Well, maybe he saved room for one,” Leah said as she stepped out from behind Penna, and my mouth dropped.

  Her hair was down, framing her heart-shaped face, and Penna had done something to her eye makeup to bring out the gold flecks in her eyes. Given the plunge of that black halter neckline, I would have said she dressed her, too.

  Leah glanced between Candy and me. “Or maybe you are full up?”

  Shit. I was not going to get into a fight with Leah over this superficial bullshit. Before I could toss Candy out of the booth—cameras be damned—Leah gave me a smile that hit me a hell of a lot harder than that shot.

  She arched an eyebrow at me in flirtatious challenge, and I took it. “I think I can squeeze you in,” I said with a serious nod. “If you’ll excuse me?” I said to Candy.

  She huffed but moved so I could get out of the booth. Even with the stuffy, heated air of the club, I instantly breathed easier.

  “Hey, have you met Justin?” Penna asked Candy, steering her toward one of the new Renegades. God bless her.

  I turned back to Leah, who looked up at me and laughed. “I leave you alone for five minutes…”

  “This is not what it looks like,” I started.

  “You’re not putting on a Wilder act for Bobby?” she asked.

  My mouth opened and shut a couple times. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was doing.”

  “Then it is what it looks like to me.” She fingered the rolled-up sleeves of the collared shirt I wore. “But you do look ridiculously good doing it.”

  I glanced to Bobby, who was shooting me a death glare from where he was set up against the wall. Guess we’d ruined that shot. “You’re not mad?” I asked.

  “Not at all.” She moved her hands to play with the buttons on my shirt.

  The woman was a saint.

  “It’s not like I didn’t know who you were when I agreed to whatever we’re doing.”

  What. The. Fuck? “I’m sorry?” I asked her.

  She looked up at me. “We never agreed to exclusivity, and if you’re supposed to keep up your image, there’s nothing I can do about it.” Her eyes lowered, and her forehead puckered. “I mean, I’m hoping it wouldn’t go past that booth—”

  “We never…?” I shook my head then gave Bobby the “cut” sign. “We’re dancing.”

  “We are?” she asked, but I was already leading her by the hand to the floor.

  I pulled her into my arms as the slow song played, my hands a hell of a lot
gentler than my tone. “What the hell do you mean we never agreed to be exclusive?”

  Her fingers played with the hair at the top of my neck. “Did we?”

  White-hot jealousy set my chest on fire when I thought about another guy coming within an inch of her. Touching her. Kissing those soft lips. Over my dead body. “We’re agreeing to it now.”

  “Okay,” she said, like it was the simplest answer on the planet.

  “Good,” I said a little harshly. “Did you honestly think I was going to see other women after what happened on Mykonos?”

  Okay, maybe a whine crept in there.

  She shrugged, but the wince clued me in that her defense mechanisms were in control. “No, but when Penna suggested we come down, and then you were snuggled up with Blondie… I don’t know. It’s like you’re two different people—Wilder for the cameras, and Paxton for me—and I thought maybe Wilder needed to appear available.”

  The way she saw me, cut through every layer I’d built up, was downright scary. “I am both, and I can tell you that both sides of me are crazy about you.” Her lips parted, and it took all of my restraint not to kiss her. “Bobby needed some party shots to layer in, and I agreed. But you and I have never talked about going public for the camera. Everything on Mykonos I can put a lid on, and even what happened in class wasn’t filmed. I wasn’t going to make that choice without you.”

  “Oh,” she said, her voice all breathy.

  “This is your choice. I would never force it on you—the cameras, the publicity, the press—but I can tell you that no matter what you decide, things will never go further than having a few drinks on camera with fans. I’m with you. If you want to go public, I’m all for it. Nothing would make me happier than not having to look for cameras before I kiss you.”

  “Really?”

  I absolutely loathed the surprise in her voice. “Really.” What was with us and that word? “If you want to keep our relationship private, I’ll respect that, too. I’ll hate it, but I never want you to be uncomfortable. I can watch my hands in public,” I promised, making sure they were currently north of her ass. “Probably not my eyes, but I could try.”

  The few heartbeats it took her to answer felt like years. Of course I wanted to go public. I wanted everything about us on film, so when she eventually realized what an asshole I was—and left me—I’d have something of her to hold on to. I wanted everyone on this ship—hell, the world—to know that Eleanor Baxter was mine…for as long as she’d have me.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “We can go public.”

  “Really?” I asked, ready to crow.

  “Really,” she said with a smile I couldn’t wait to kiss off her face.

  And she’d given me permission to.

  I moved one hand to her ass and gripped the base of her neck with the other, then took her mouth. Deepening the kiss, I used every skill I had to publicly claim her—and lost myself in the process. The dance floor and everyone around us disappeared, until there was only Leah in my arms, her sweet mouth under mine, her whimpers in my ear.

  Kissing her got better, hotter, every time, like giving in to the insane chemistry between us only let the fire burn brighter—and that fire was about to burn us both alive in the middle of the dance floor if I didn’t get a grip.

  “Take me to bed,” she whispered in my ear, then ran her tongue along the shell.

  “Your wish is my command,” I answered, steering my girlfriend toward the door. I waved Bobby off when I heard him calling my name and kept going.

  I didn’t stop until I had Leah naked, under me, then on top, screaming my name as she came. I kept going until I had explored every inch of her skin with my hands and tongue, committed every curve and hollow to memory again. Once I found my own release and tucked her in against me, our skin sweaty and our breathing calmed, my body finally stopped moving.

  But knowing what was coming for us…well, my mind was a completely different matter.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Leah

  Morocco

  It wasn’t natural to be this happy. Even when I’d been with Brian for a year, I’d never felt this contentment or the giddy need to see him the way I did Paxton.

  On the one hand, it made me feel like utter shit. I’d loved Brian. Maybe not a desperate, soul-consuming love, but a softer version—one that was blurring at the edges with time.

  But on the other hand, it gave me the sense that maybe I was finally moving past it in a way therapy hadn’t pulled me through.

  I felt free, lifted, and for the first time in forever, morning brought an incredible sense of excitement to see what my day would bring, instead of dread. I especially loved days like today where I woke up in Paxton’s arms, tracing the lines of his tattoos until he opened his eyes.

  “You ready?” Penna called from our living room.

  “You look good in everything, so let’s go,” Paxton joined in.

  I rolled my eyes and looked in the mirror one more time. It was day number two in Morocco, and we’d been anchored at Casablanca for two days. After yesterday’s sweat-fest while we were on the World Religion excursion to the Hassan Mosque and subsequent churches, there was zero chance I was going back out there in pants. When Paxton told me to wear a swimsuit under my clothes, he’d unknowingly solidified my choice.

  Well, semi-solidified, otherwise I wouldn’t have been there debating the thigh-length black shorts I’d bought in Mykonos.

  “You know, mornings would be so much easier if you’d agree to move into my place,” Paxton said.

  I grabbed my floppy sun hat, oversize glasses, and travel wallet before leaving the safety of my room. “As I recall, this whole ship is your place, so really, I already did.”

  His eyes swept my frame, the usual heat sparking there, and when they caught my shorts, he looked up, blazing with pride. “You look amazing.”

  “Let’s go. I’m not holding up our trip so that you can make out, and the last time someone left you two to your own devices, you ended up off the ship for five days.” Penna pointed to the door.

  “It was a good five days,” I argued as Paxton’s arm wrapped around my waist.

  “Worth every second, and all that fucking make-up work,” Paxton swore with a kiss on the top of my head.

  “Yeah, well, you still took the hit in Physics,” I said as we walked into the hallway.

  “A ninety-two is hardly a hit. I’ve got two other solid Bs, so I think we’re okay.”

  “We’ll see what happens when your Lit paper’s graded,” I fired back, leaning into him as we entered the elevator.

  “I’d have gotten an A if you would have written it for me,” he muttered.

  I elbowed him. “Not happening.”

  “I was joking.” He laughed, wrapping me in his arms.

  “I wasn’t aware that we’d gone from ESPN to Lifetime,” Zoe spat when she got on, rolling her eyes.

  “Sheathe your claws before it becomes Jerry Springer,” Penna snapped.

  “We made it!” Brooke yelled as she pulled Landon in behind her.

  I did a few calculations on the weight allowance when Little John squeezed in the elevator next, but sighed in relief when he told the rest of the crew they’d have to catch the next one.

  I took the ramp off the ship without breaking a sweat, and we met up with the others at the bus. And by bus…well, at one point it had been a bus, I just wasn’t sure that’s what it qualified as now. The top had been sheared off so it looked more like a giant flatbed with benches.

  “Mr. Wilder!” the guide driver called out, his accent thick and beautiful.

  “Mr. Mantoui?” Paxton shook the man’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “I am a big fan! It’s my pleasure to take you to Paradise Valley. It is one of the most beautiful places in our country.” He motioned for us to board the contraption.

  “We’re all excited,” Paxton promised, then posed for a picture with Landon and Penna before we climbed on.
/>   The twenty or so seats were all taken by camera crew and Renegades, and I walked down the aisle behind Paxton to find a seat.

  “Hey, what happened to your legs?” Zoe asked, stopping me with her arm and openly staring.

  I met her stare unflinchingly. “Car accident,” I answered. It was the CliffsNotes version of the truth, but it was all she deserved. Hell, I mostly said it for myself, anyway.

  “Nice,” Landon answered across the aisle, lifting his board shorts and knocking Zoe’s arm out of the way as he bared his thigh and the jagged scar that ran from knee to the hemline. “This was the summer I was obsessed with BMX.”

  Penna stood behind her and lifted her shirt over her stomach. “This was my first attempt at a backflip,” she said, pointing to the hand-length scar that ran down her left side.

  “And you’ve already seen every single one of mine,” Paxton said, turning around. He didn’t shoot Zoe a death glare or even look at her, simply bent, grabbing my upper thighs and lifting me up against him. “But I’ll be happy to give you another show,” he whispered into my ear as he backed us into our seat a few rows away.

  He sat in the middle and nudged my legs to straddle him, which I did happily. I love you. It was on the tip of my tongue, screaming from my heart, but I couldn’t form the words. It was still too soon, too raw.

  “All of us have scars. You fit right in,” he promised. “But I will tell you that these shorts are going to distract me all damn day.”

  I kissed him, uncaring that we were on display. He tasted like the mint of his toothpaste, all tangy and fresh, and I couldn’t help but press deeper. His grip was tight on my thighs, his hands warming my skin as his tongue set a fire inside me.

  He groaned, pulling away and resting his forehead against mine. “If we keep that up, I’m hauling you back inside.”

  “Not this time,” Bobby interjected, taking the seat behind us, his nose covered in a thick layer of zinc. “Your sexcapades are not ruining this. It’s going to be epic. This is one of the primo places to cliff dive in the world.”

  “Hey, Bobby,” Paxton called over his shoulder. “Who do you work for?”

  “What?” He let that sink in a second and then rolled his eyes. “You.”