Hidden (The Scions Book 1)

by Gemma Weir

  I think that over for a minute, my head pushed against the uncomfortable plastic of my steering wheel. I’m a fucking idiot. How have I allowed myself to get into this situation? A shrill laugh escapes me. I really am losing my fucking mind, that’s the only sensible explanation.

  Eventually, I force myself to sit up, and grabbing my purse, I climb out of my car and walk up to the house. The moment I push through the front door, the sound of my family and the familiar scent of home washes over me. I don’t have to hide or pretend here. My shoulders sag and I drop my purse by the stairs and kick off my shoes, then pad barefoot into the kitchen to where both my parents and all three of my brothers are.

  Dill and Leo barely acknowledge my presence, their attention focused on the books spread out in front of them. Mom is sat on the counter, directing my dad as he tries to cook, and Zeke is lounging at the dining table, his cell in his hand.

  “Hey,” I say, as Zeke lifts his eyes and smirks at me.

  “Where have you been?” He asks, knowing the answer, but asking anyway to get me to admit it in front of Mom and Dad.

  As if on cue my parents turn their attention to me. “Hey, sweetie, where have you been?”

  “I gave Valentine a ride home,” I say, hoping they won’t ask me anything else.

  “That was nice of you,” Mom says, pointing at something my dad is doing and glaring.

  “Aw, it’s cute that you drove your boyfriend home,” Zeke taunts, and I narrow my eyes and glare at him.

  “Boyfriend?” Dad says, his lips dropping into a scowl.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Sure looked like he was when you were making out with him at school,” Zeke says.

  Focusing my eyes on him, I flash him a look that promises retribution for this later, but he only smiles in return. “Asshole,” I mouth, shaking my head.

  “He’s very cute,” Mom says. “I’m a little surprised though, I wouldn’t have thought he was your type.”

  “He’s not and he’s not my boyfriend.”

  “So why were you making out at school then?” Dad asks, abandoning his cooking and turning his huge body toward me.

  “It was just a kiss, Daddy, don’t worry about it,” I assure him, crossing the room to rise onto my tiptoes and planting a kiss against his cheek. “How long is dinner going to be? I have homework and I want to jump in the shower.”

  Dad stares at me for a minute, then relaxes, just like I knew he would. “About half an hour. Go get started on your homework.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I say, then turn and leave the room, grabbing my purse on the way.

  Showering, I wash away the remains of my arousal from my body, replacing his scent with that of my girly bodywash. After I’m clean, I towel off, regretting almost instantly that I can no longer smell him on my skin.

  I pull on loose shorts and a tank, then climb onto my bed and pull out my homework. The exhaustion of the day is creeping over me, so I need to get all of my work done before I crash and burn. My cell falls from my purse as I pull out my last textbook, and as I reach for it, I notice the message box on the home screen.

  Valentine: I can still smell you on my fingers.

  Dropping my cell to the bed, I shuffle away from it as if distance can make the message or the memory of this afternoon disappear. My stomach clenches as I think about the way he pushed me over the edge and made me come. It wasn’t the first orgasm I’ve ever had, but it’s the first time it’s been at someone’s other than my own hands.

  Cade tried loads of times, but although he made me feel good and I liked the way he touched me, he could never get me off, not the way Valentine did. Reaching for the cell again, I reread his words, then I realize that I never gave him my cell number and I certainly never programmed his number into my contacts list.

  Indignant anger urges me to reply and my fingers fly across the screen.

  Me: How did you get my number and why is your name programmed into my cell?

  The three dots immediately appear at the bottom of the message screen and I imagine his smug smile as he types a reply.

  Valentine: I added myself when I was in bed with you the other night.

  Me: You let yourself into my room and climbed into my bed uninvited; don’t make it sound like I wanted you there.

  Valentine: You’d welcome me into your bed now though, wouldn’t you? I bet you’d spread your thighs and let me get you off with my fingers.

  Closing my eyes, I puff out a sigh, then force myself to push my cell aside and ignore it. I can’t engage him; it will only make him worse. He holds all the cards anyway and anything I do with him is a direct result of his blackmail and extortion.

  Only you enjoyed it, a voice at the back of my head says. I push it away, ignoring it, and try to concentrate on my assignments. Five minutes later, my cell beeps again and I ignore it, refusing to let my eyes glance at the screen. Another five minutes passes and all I can think about is what’s in the message. Scooping my phone into my hand, I click into the text and read it.

  Valentine: I’ll let you ignore me for now, Princess, but we both know you were panting for me today. I didn’t force you to do anything, no matter how much you’re trying to convince yourself I did. You wanted me to touch you and you fell apart on my fingers.

  As I’m reading, a second message comes through and like the junkie I’m becoming I can’t help but open it.

  Valentine: Next time, I’ll let you come all over my tongue. First, I’ll make you beg for it. I can’t wait to see the desperation in your eyes when you plead for me to lick you. When you’ve screamed my name, I’ll make you thank me. You can pick if you say the words or show me how grateful you are on your knees with my dick in your mouth.

  My cell beeps again.

  Valentine: I’m gonna make you hate me so much but love the way I touch you. I’m going to ruin you, Princess.

  With shaking hands, I turn my phone off, dropping it into my bedside table and shutting the drawer as if that can protect me from him and his words. I’m not sure what scares me more, his words, the way they make me feel, or how much I want to be ruined by him if it feels as good as it did today.

  Somehow, I make it through dinner, complete my homework and fall into bed before the fear and anxiety that has become so familiar takes root again. Being with Valentine had silenced it all, but now thoughts of the looks, the whispers and the judgment of the kids at school fills my mind. Anxiety, doubt, and overwhelming pressure fills me to the point that even lying still becomes impossible. Tossing and turning, I try to force my mind to think of something, anything else, but the moment I close my eyes it all rushes back, plaguing me.

  With my tired, gritty eyes wide open, I stare at my ceiling, willing the feeling of helplessness to go away, but it doesn’t. As each hour passes, the taunting thoughts become more insistent and by 4am I’m sat up in bed, my knees at my chest, my head clenched tightly against them as I fight the tears that threaten to spill.

  What are they saying?

  Why are they staring?

  How do I make it stop?

  Can they see I’m falling apart?

  Are they laughing at me as I crumble beneath the pressure of popularity and expectation?

  Are they all waiting for me to fall?

  By 6:30am I’m up and dressed, my hair styled into a long, silky waterfall down my back, my makeup trying hard to cover the black shadows beneath my eyes from yet another sleepless night. I’m practically juddering with undirected anxious energy. I try to focus on Valentine, to let my issues with him push away all of my other concerns. Should I ignore him? Hide from him? Or tell everyone what he’s done?

  I know that if I were giving advice to anyone else in this situation, I’d tell them to out him as the manipulative asshole he is. But admitting that he’s blackmailing me, exposing my weaknesses to the clamoring hordes who are eager to point fingers up at me up on the pedestal they placed me on, is almost as terrifying as what damage he could wreak if I disob
ey his whims.

  Mom’s working out of the Sinner’s security offices today, so I delay my descent downstairs until I know she’ll have left for the day. Mom is far more observant than Dad; she’d take one look at me and see the mess I’ve become. I can’t have that, so instead I pour myself a coffee, ask Zeke to pick up Emmy and then sit on the front porch and wait.

  When Auntie Brandi’s familiar car pulls into view I stand up, bringing my thermal cup full of extra strong coffee with me, as I sling my purse over my shoulder and make my way to the curb. I open the passenger door when he slows to a stop and climb in, reluctant to go to school, but eager to get the journey over as quickly as possible.

  “Someone’s eager,” he taunts, the moment I close the door behind me.

  Ignoring him, I strap my seatbelt into place and rest my face in my hand against the window.

  “What’s the matter? You look like shit.”

  Sighing wearily, I wait for him to pull away, but instead he turns off the engine.

  “We need to get to school or we’ll be late.” I say, without turning in his direction.

  “Look at me.”

  “Forget it, I’ll drive myself,” I say, reaching down to unclip my seatbelt. The telltale click of the doors locking has me spinning toward him. “Let me out.”

  “Tell me what’s the matter. You look terrible. Are you sick?”

  Rolling my eyes upward I sigh wearily. “I don’t sleep that well some nights,” I admit reluctantly.

  “Why not?” He asks, abruptly, but with a hint of what almost sounds a little like concern in his voice.

  “None of your business,” I snap.

  “Fine, whatever.” He says dismissively, the concern I thought I heard a moment ago completely gone. “But just because you look like shit it doesn’t get you out of our deal. You’ll do as I say, you get me?”

  Nodding stiffly, I turn to face the window again as he starts the engine and drives us the rest of the way to school in stony silence.

  “Let’s go,” he snaps when he pulls into my parking space in the school’s lot.

  Climbing from the car, I silently move to stand next to him, waiting for him to lay his claim on me like he had yesterday morning. But instead he walks away without another word, confusing the fuck out of me.

  At lunch he pulls me onto his lap in the cafeteria but doesn’t say a word the entire time we’re sat in the intimate position. Emmy pulls me aside the moment we get into class together and whispers conspiratorially.

  “What the hell is going on? You and Valentine? How? What? How?” She whisper-shouts.

  Sighing audibly, I shrug my shoulders. What else can I do? I can’t tell her that he’s a psycho who’s blackmailing me. I can’t tell her that the only reason she’s being investigated for cheating is because I pissed him off and that was his retaliation. It sounds insane even thinking it to myself.

  “What happened when your mom and Auntie Dove came in yesterday?” I ask, trying to divert the attention back to her drama. I should have called or text her last night, but after everything that happened with Valentine and his texts I completely forgot. I’m such a shitty friend.

  A giggle escapes from her lips and she smiles widely. “Let’s just say I doubt Principal Gerard will be accusing me of cheating again any time soon.”

  “Tell me everything,” I say, glad that she doesn’t seem worried anymore.

  “Well, Mom and Auntie Dove barged into his office and Auntie Dove was quoting all these laws and talking about precedents and defamation of character suits. She insisted that he run all of my assignments through this service that can check for commonly used phrases and paragraphs or something. Basically, it can find out if chunks of your work have been taken from somewhere else. I’m not entirely sure how it works. Well, anyway, I’m in the corner crying and freaking out and Auntie Dove is totally badass and standing behind the principal while he runs these checks.”

  “Obviously they all came back as no cheating.”

  “Exactly and then Mom let loose, saying that she’s going to withdraw all of her funding from the school and how she’s considering suing him.”

  “Oh my god,” I gasp, with a laugh.

  “Yep and then Principal Gerard apologized. I swear he was on the verge of tears and he said that he would personally write me a recommendation to however many colleges I wanted and that he was only doing his job and blah, blah, blah. Oh my god, Nova, I was so scared, but Mom and Auntie Dove just destroyed him. By the time we left I almost felt a bit sorry for him.”

  “Serves him right for even suspecting you.”

  Emmy opens her mouth to speak, but the teacher calls the class’ attention and we don’t get a chance to speak again until the bell has gone and we’re leaving the classroom and heading into the hall.

  The hallway is full, but as usual people make a path for us as we walk.

  “Wow, I wonder how many dicks she had to suck this week? Apparently, that’s the reason she’s so popular.” A blonde girl says loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “Do you think the guys have a rota or maybe they just pass her from dick to dick?” Another says, as she catches my eye, a snide smirk on her lips.

  “Excuse me,” I say, pasting on my most haughty expression and spinning around to confront the two girls.

  As if on cue they both look away, not quite brave enough to say to my face the bullshit they were spouting behind my back.

  “What, nothing to say? That’s funny because only a few seconds ago you were talking about how many dicks I have to suck to be this popular and how the guys pass me around. Or wasn’t I meant to hear that?”

  “Er.” Heat fills the blonde’s face and she immediately starts to fidget, moving from one foot to the other as if she’s planning to run away.

  “Oh, right I see how it is. You can call me a slut behind my back, but when I’m here waiting to hear your opinion on me you’ve got nothing to say.”

  I know that the confrontation has created a crowd, but I’m so sick of watching them stare and whisper about me. A sick feeling has been in the pit of my stomach all day and I feel like I’m on the verge of a total meltdown. Zero sleep, plus all of the stress from Valentine’s shit, and now this; it’s too much.

  “Nothing to say?” I shout, stepping closer to the now almost cowering girls. “Come on, tell me what I am. I’m a slut, right? But who am I fucking? The only reason I’m top tier is because I suck dick, huh? Yet y’all follow me, not the other way around. You, all of you. You put me and my brother on a pedestal because we’re Sinners, then you bitch and moan about it. Well, fuck you.”

  I open my mouth to say more, but a heavy arm lands across my shoulder and Zeke’s familiar scent wafts over me.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Zeke shouts and the gathered crowd scatters, watching us over their shoulders until they’re forced to look away. The two bitchy girls are the last two to leave, both pale. “Stay the fuck away from me and my sister or we’ll make you social pariahs,” he snarls. They nod then rush away together, neither of them saying a word.

  “I’ve got her,” Zeke assures Emmy and she reluctantly leaves, her eyes worried.

  When there’s only Zeke and I left, he glances around us to make sure there’s no one lurking at their lockers and once he’s content that we’re alone, he drops his arm and spins to face me. “What the fuck was that?”

  Shaking my head, I clench my hands into tight fists at my side. “I don’t know.”

  “That’s not you. You don’t engage the snarky little bitches. Your entire personality here is that you don’t give a fuck about anyone and think everyone who isn’t family is beneath you.”

  “I just snapped. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend to be that person, I can’t.” Pausing, I clamp my palms to the side of my head and curl into myself. “I feel like I’m losing my mind, Zeke. The stares and the whispers, they’re all I can hear, all I can see, and I don’t even know if they’re all aimed at me but it’s d
riving me crazy. It used to just be at parties when there were so many people, but now it’s all the time. Every time I walk through the halls or into a classroom, all I can hear is the voice in the back of my head, telling me that they’re all judging me, and I just can’t take it anymore.”

  Zeke pulls me into his chest. “It’s okay, shhh.”

  Pushing away from him I shout. “No, it’s not going to be okay. I can’t sleep. The voices and the questions just keep circling around in my head. Are they staring? Are they talking about me? Do they know who I am? Can they see that I’m a fucking psycho who hears voices in my head?” Looking up at him, I know I must look crazy, but I feel crazy.

  “She was saying that I suck dick and that’s why I’m popular. They have no idea that I don’t want this. I never wanted people to think I was this mean, heartless bitch. It’s all pretend, Zeke, all of it, and I just… I can’t keep pretending. I want to hide; I just want to curl up into a ball and hide and then maybe these thoughts.” I slap at the side of my head. “Maybe then all of these thoughts will go away and it’ll be quiet. I just want it to be quiet.”

  Tears roll down my cheeks and this time when Zeke pulls me into his arms, I let him, melting into his chest and wishing that his hug could make this all go away.

  “I’ll fix it. We’ll fix it. I promise,” he coos soothingly into my hair and I really wish he could fix it, but I don’t know if I am fixable anymore.

  Wiping the tears from my eyes I inhale, then slowly exhale. “I need to get to class.”

  “Skip, I’ll take you home.”

  “It’ll be worse if I don’t go to class; too many people saw me lose my shit with those girls. The gossip is already bad enough. I need to plaster on my usual fake smile and pretend everything is okay.”

  “Nova,” Zeke says and somehow it sounds like it hurts him to say it.

  “No,” I say, stopping him from saying anything else. “I’ll be okay.”

  The rest of the day drags so much, I’m almost convinced that the clock has started to move backward. The gossip seems to have quietened, but the stares have increased to the point that I almost suggest they buy tickets.