Vicious Desire

by S. Massery

  Instantly, her eyes fill with tears, and her chin trembles. “But… I’ve never been high before. Why would he do that?”

  “Because it makes girls more…” I shift. “Willing.”

  Her mouth drops open. It seems true that her inhibitions have lowered. Her emotions are clear on her face. “But I’m not willing. I don’t want to…”

  “Sleep with him?” I make a face. “At least you have some sense. But that’s the whole point…”

  She takes a step back, toward the house, and I groan.

  “I could take you home,” I offer. “If you don’t feel…” Safe.

  Fuck.

  She wraps her arms around herself. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

  “I swear, I’ll take you home and leave.” I lift my chin. “It’s either that or I leave you to fend for yourself. Where were your friends when Patrick gave you that drink, huh?”

  She shakes her head. “They said I should have some fun. It’s been…”

  This time, her sway is more of a full-body wobble. I reach out and steady her, one hand on her arm, and she sighs.

  Yeah, I feel the electricity from it, too.

  All that should matter is getting her out of here, before I do something stupid. He gave a girl a laced drink without telling her—how many other times has he pulled that move?

  “Let’s go.” I point to the door. “I’m taking you home.”

  There’s no argument from her. No hesitation, even. She just lifts on the hem of her shirt and goes for the door.

  In a way, her compliance makes me angrier.

  Some asshole could come up to her and say, “Hey, baby, how about you join me upstairs?” She wouldn’t even resist.

  I follow her through the house, catching Theo’s eye and nodding to Riley. He breaks away from the guys he was talking to and heads to the front door.

  Patrick walks into the living room and spots Riley. He doesn’t see me, though, which is probably the reason why he slings his arm around her shoulders.

  I tense.

  She pushes at him, but he ducks down and whispers something in her ear. She sags into him.

  That’s it.

  “Hey,” I bark.

  Patrick turns, taking Riley with him. His eyebrows rise.

  I loathe fake surprise.

  Or maybe it’s real—he didn’t think he’d get caught this early. Or ever. Maybe he thought he could seduce her, kiss her neck, and lure her away—

  “What, Black?” he snaps. “I’m busy here.”

  “Get your fucking hands off her,” I growl.

  I shove forward and grab the wrist of his arm around Riley. I throw it off her.

  Riley seems to register the danger, because she almost trips in her haste to get away from us.

  Patrick stares hard at me for a moment, his chest puffing.

  Assholes like him—they’re not like me and my friends. They don’t have the demons in their chest like we do. It’s easy to see it in their eyes: they’re dicks because they can be.

  We act the way we do because we were scraped along the ground as children, one way or another, and survived.

  “You gonna hit me, Patty?” I spread my arms, an open invitation.

  He takes the bait because he’s a sucker. He aims for my face, and I step back. His fist sails through the air inches in front of me, and his miss enrages him. He keeps coming, I keep dodging.

  He lunges at me. I twist to the side and stick out my foot, catching his ankle.

  Someone gasps as he falls, sprawling out on the floor.

  I shake my head and crouch next to him.

  He winces when I yank his hair and lift his head.

  “You don’t touch her,” I say. “Got it?”

  He nods. There’s blood on his lips, even though I didn’t touch him. It must’ve been the fall, a bitten tongue or the inside of his cheek. It stains his teeth pink.

  I drop his head, and he lies there for a moment. Long enough for me to look around and find Riley in the sea of people who’ve gathered to watch.

  Nothing draws a crowd quite like an exhibition.

  Riley is sitting with her back pressed against the wall, her arms locked around her legs. She’s small. Eyes wide.

  I pause in front of her and contemplate offering my hand. I could be nice and pull her to her feet, guide her out like a saint.

  But as it is, I’m still feeling a bit murderous.

  So I grab her wrists and yank her up, then up higher. Over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. My arm is hooked around her leg, and I hold her wrist, and she only squirms for a second, then goes quiet.

  Everyone is quiet.

  Theo holds the door open for me, but it’s Caleb who steps out of the shadows and holds out his hand for Theo’s keys.

  I follow my brother—pseudo-brother, what-fucking-ever—out the door.

  We’re halfway to Theo’s car when the music starts back up again.

  “Put me down,” Riley says. Her free hand slides down the back of my arm, latching on to my wrist.

  I sigh. “No.”

  “Everyone can see my ass, Eli.”

  “No one is fucking looking at your ass,” I snap.

  Caleb chuckles ahead of us.

  She releases my wrist.

  I shake off the sensation and move it out of her reach.

  And then she pinches the back of my arm, just above my elbow. It feels more like she’s stabbing me with pliers and twisting, because damn.

  I growl, whirling around, but she doesn’t release my skin.

  So I give her what she wanted. I duck forward and tip her over my head, onto the ground.

  She hits hard, rolling, and then she pops back up. She shoves me away, her face a beautiful sort of angry. Her hair is a mess, and so is her outfit. Shirt askew, and she lost a shoe.

  Whoops.

  Her shove isn’t very strong. I barely sway. But she raises her fists and hits me again in the chest, and she keeps slapping me until I get control of her. I pull her close, pinning her arms between our chests, and wrap her in a bear hug.

  “Stop,” I order. “Just stop.”

  “You—”

  “Yeah, I know.” I can fill in the blanks. I let him touch her. I put an end to it. I embarrassed her, maybe.

  I saved her ass, is what I did.

  It’s hard not to focus on how slight she feels. She barely weighs anything. She’s shaking.

  “Let’s get you home, okay?”

  She sighs and sags against me. “What’s the point? No one is there, anyway.”

  I squint. “What?”

  “No one is there.”

  “Your parents?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Your dick brother?”

  She hesitates, then frowns. “Partying with Kaiden, probably. I can’t…”

  “Okay, fine. Come on.” I guide her to the car, and to my surprise, my anger is gone. Evaporated off my skin. I like that about her. I’m angry enough to kill her one moment and protecting her the next.

  Life is strange.

  I open the door for her and follow, choosing to sit beside her instead of in the front. I tell myself it’s because I’m worried she might try to jump out of the car, but in reality…

  Maybe I just want to be near her.

  The buzzing under my skin is my favorite part.

  She tips her head back and closes her eyes. “Why did he do that?”

  “Because he’s an asshole,” I reply. I can’t let myself think about it again. I slowly release my fists, smoothing my hands out on my jeans. “But he won’t pull that shit on you again. No one will.”

  Her head falls toward me, and she meets my gaze. Her eyes are dark brown in this lighting. Sometimes they’re sea green, speckled with brass.

  Since when do you pay attention to her eyes, Eli?

  “It shouldn’t take your misguided concern for me to stop him,” she says quietly.

  I raise my eyebrow.

  “You knew
what he did—you weren’t really surprised. If girls wanted to get high, they could put it in their own damn drink. But it’s because you’re fixated on me that you did something about it.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “She’s right,” Caleb says. “That shit should’ve been stopped long before now.”

  I sigh. “I’m sorry, Riley.”

  She resumes facing forward. “Apology accepted.” And then, quieter, “I wish I got a chance to punch him.”

  I snort. “We can probably arrange that.”

  She smiles.

  And it scares me how much I want more.

  16

  Riley

  I take a deep breath and open the front door. Dad must’ve slept at his office, because his car isn’t in the driveway. In one hand, I have the little pepper spray, and in my other I have a water bottle. Not my water bottle—for some reason, I haven’t been able to touch it.

  Noah is convinced someone with good intentions brought it back to us, but I’m not so sure.

  I push off the porch and break into a jog before I get permanently stuck there. Ten years from now, kids might walk by and say, “Oh, there’s Riley Appleton, the crazy girl. She lives on the porch. Hasn’t moved in ages.”

  At the corner, I glance around. I’ve been doing all my running at practice, and not doing anything in the morning has been affecting my times. I’m slower, more cumbersome. If there’s something I can’t stand, it’s Eli-fucking-Black beating me.

  Of course, that’s practically his job.

  He paces the faster girls, Skylar included, and I… I should be up there with them, but I’m not.

  I save my speed for race days and early mornings.

  It’s been exactly a week since I got in Eli’s truck and he took me to the diner. A week of awkwardness—on my part. Him? He’s been alternating between watching me like he’s trying to unlock a mystery and ignoring me.

  The sad part is, I can’t decide which mood I like better.

  I start my watch and increase my speed, my muscles stretching painfully. Today will be a short run—we did sprints yesterday, and everything hurts.

  Everything.

  Our first meet is tomorrow, which means a pasta dinner tonight at Skylar’s house. Eventually it’ll be my turn to host, but I’m hoping to push it off for as long as possible.

  Maybe Mom will snap out of it before then.

  I think of the past year and Mom’s slow withdrawal. We all watched it happen and were unable to do anything. She was silk sliding through our fingers, pulled by magic.

  My heart squeezes at the thought of magic. I should go visit Gram. Maybe she’d have some advice.

  The change of texture under my feet startles me, and I take note of my surroundings. I’m back on the trail through the woods, but it was automatic. I don’t remember consciously deciding to go this way…

  Silently, I berate myself and slow to a stop.

  If I’ve made it here, I’m already two miles in—and I still need to get home. Today was supposed to be easy.

  I can walk back, I suppose.

  Someone comes jogging up from the other direction, and I lift my hand in a wave as they pass.

  The man doesn’t even look at me.

  It’s like I’m the ghost.

  My skin pricks, like someone is watching me. I whirl around and scan the tree line, but I can’t see anyone.

  “Hello?” I call.

  Nothing—of course. I wasn’t really expecting anything different.

  I hurry home, breaking my resting rule. I only slow once I’m back on the sidewalk of my street. One of the neighbors passes me in his car and waves.

  I force a smile and wave back.

  It’s so fake, the smile rots away on my face before he’s even fully passed.

  Once I’m back inside the house, my muscles relax. I get way too worked up on my runs now—it’s the reason I’ve been avoiding them as staunchly as I have.

  I wander into the kitchen—first I need coffee, then a shower—and I’m shocked to see Noah at the coffee pot.

  He spins toward me, two mugs in his hands, and grins. “I’m filling in for Dad today.”

  I tilt my head. “Why?”

  “He asked me to.”

  I watch him. They don’t have the best relationship. And yet, I can’t really muster the energy to interrogate him about it. I take the cup he’s offering and sip it. It scalds my mouth and throat.

  “Mace?” he asks. “I didn’t know you carried that.”

  I motion for the table, and we sit.

  “I came back after an… incident,” I say. “It was a few weeks ago, I had cut up my knees and palms, but Dad wanted me to be safe.”

  “It’s why you wanted me to go that day? To get your water bottle?”

  I keep my eyes on the table. “Yeah. It felt like someone was messing with me in the fog, you know? I keep getting that sensation of being watched.”

  He leans forward. “How often?”

  “Like…” I think back to the past week.

  How many times have I paused and looked around for no reason?

  “Almost every day,” I admit. “But I think I’m paranoid. It’s probably nothing.”

  His jaw sets. At least he doesn’t know about my joyride with Eli—he’d probably go mental. The bruises have long since faded from Eli’s jaw, but both of them remember it. I’m sure of that. And if Noah sees Eli again… game over.

  Luckily, Noah avoids the party scene. And so do I.

  “What’s the plan today?” he asks me.

  I smack my forehead. “Oh, no. Dad was supposed to take me to school after I drop my car off at the mechanic.”

  He straightens. “I can.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “Well… Dad might’ve also mentioned that, too.” He shrugs. “He called yesterday, said what I had to do. He said should do, but I knew what he meant. And if I wasn’t so out of shape, I’d run with you.”

  I press my lips together. It’s either that or tell him how grateful I am that he’s still here—and no one wants to hear that blubbering. Especially me.

  “Okay, um, I’m going to go shower.” I hurry upstairs, taking my coffee with me. I duck into my room for my school uniform, and something catches my attention from the corner of my eye.

  Slowly, I pivot toward my bed.

  It’s made. Pristinely. Better than I think I’m even capable of doing.

  And I can’t get near it.

  Someone was in my room.

  Mom—not an option. Noah barely makes his own bed, let alone someone else’s. Dad isn’t home.

  Don’t scream, don’t scream.

  My gaze automatically goes to my closet.

  I pat my waist, but I must’ve left the Mace on the kitchen table. All I have is the cup of coffee—I guess I could soak my soon-to-be attacker before they kill me.

  Taking a deep breath, I edge toward the closet and grab the door handle. I yank and jump backward, ready to throw my mug, but there’s nothing there except clothes.

  I release a shaky breath.

  “Paranoid, Riley,” I murmur. I retrieve the clothes I dropped and go to the bathroom.

  Once I’m showered and dressed, I avoid my bedroom entirely and head downstairs. Noah is in the living room with a book in his lap, and that draws me up short.

  “Reading?” I ask.

  He grins. “I picked it up at Meadowview.”

  My watch informs me I still have some time, so I drop onto the couch beside him. “How does it feel being out?”

  He shrugs. “Every day is a journey in itself. But what is life if not a magnificent journey?”

  I stare at him. “Who are you quoting?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just something they said a lot.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Adjusting is the hardest part. The lack of routine. Maybe I will start getting up early to run with you—something to start my day off right.”

  “Only if you can keep up.” I nudge him and gr
in.

  He laughs. “Yeah, you’d run circles around me now.”

  I nod. “Easily.”

  “Do you have practice today?” he asks.

  “Nope. Just the pasta dinner at Skylar’s. I’ll ask if someone else can take me to grab my car at the end of the day.”

  He watches me, then puts the book back on the coffee table. “Right. Let’s do this, then.”

  In school, I connect with Skylar and Parker. It seems we’ve become a trio, although I couldn’t have predicted that happening. And now that I have my own little pack, the cheerleaders have backed off. They don’t even seem to care about Skylar anymore.

  Or maybe it’s more fun to belittle the terrified freshmen instead of us.

  I walk into my American Law class and slam on the brakes. The boy behind me runs into me, then moves around, cursing under his breath. But I can’t move.

  Eli is sitting at the desk.

  I hurry over to him, glaring. “What are you doing?”

  He leans back in his chair and smirks. “Filling in. Now take your seat before I mark you as skipping.”

  I narrow my eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

  He shrugs. “Wouldn’t I? You seem to have perfect attendance, Ms. Appleton. And an A in this class. It would be a shame to ruin the streak.”

  Blackmail.

  Figures.

  I back away until my butt hits a desk, then I whirl around and take my regular seat. It’s the second row back, right by the window. I like the view and the occasional sunshine that streams across my legs.

  The bell rings, and Eli rises, stepping in front of the class. It’s annoying how everyone instantly hushes. He was practically famous, and now he’s back. And he isn’t even embarrassed about his failure.

  He writes something on the board, but my gaze is glued to his ass.

  It’s hard to concentrate.

  I hate myself for it.

  There’s a reason I tried to destroy the bridge between us—because I knew I’d be tempted to cross it again. No matter what he did.

  The room fills with rustling as the people around me flip open their textbooks, working on problems for the test next week.

  My cheeks grow hotter by the second, until I can’t take it anymore.

  I stand.

  Eli glances up from the book in his lap. One corner of his lips tilts up.