Wings & Roots (The Scions Book 3)

by Gemma Weir

  A palm bounces off the back of my head, jolting me forward and pulling me from my inner pouting. Twisting my neck, I find a smug looking Zeke smirking at me from the counter, pouring coffee into his own mug.

  “Asshole,” I hiss.

  “What’s eating you, brother?” he asks, lifting his mug to his lips and taking a sip.

  “Nothing.”

  He nods condescendingly. “Looks like nothing.”

  “I fucked up with Emmy.”

  “Figured as much when I asked her if she planned to keep dating that Kent kid and she told me not only that she planned to keep seeing him, but that it would be so much easier for her, now that we’d all agreed to give him a chance.”

  “She said that?” I snarl, my lip curling in pure male fury.

  “Yep, you had the perfect opportunity the other night. She was in your fucking arms. I got rid of the geeky kid for you. So, why the fuck didn’t you make your move?”

  “I did make a move, sort of,” I hiss. “But she was drunk, and then things got a bit out of control.”

  “What happened?” Zeke asks, narrowing his eyes.

  “We kissed.”

  “Ohhkkkayy…”

  “But she was drunk.”

  “I know that. I’m not suggesting you take advantage of her, just be there for her.”

  “I was. She fucking begged me to stay with her. She fucking begged, brother.”

  “She begged you to fuck her?”

  “No,” I growl. “She begged me to stay with her, to snuggle with her.”

  “So, what’d you do?”

  “I stayed, of course I fucking stayed, but then I left before she woke up.”

  “You did what?” Zeke roars, stepping toward me.

  “I freaked. I knew she’d either regret it, or not remember kissing me at all, so I pussied out and crept out of her bed before she woke up.”

  “You’re a fucking idiot,” he says, shaking his head.

  I nod in agreement. “I know, and now she’s planning to keep dating that little jerk Kent, and I have no idea if she even remembers kissing me and I can’t fucking bring it up.”

  “She’s not that into that Kent guy, I’d lay money on it. You just need to keep reminding her why she’s meant to be yours. Show her why Sinners are like fucking catnip to women. I know you have some charm, some fucking game, so stop being a pussy and use it.”

  I nod, re-energised by his words. “She’s mine, has been since the day I stole her first kiss.”

  “Yes!” He says, slapping me on the shoulder.

  “Time to act like a fucking Sinner. I’m a Scion and it’s time to embrace my destiny.” I cry. With a renewed sense of determination, I stand up from my stool and down the last of my coffee, then I pull my cell from my pocket and type out a text.

  Me – Morning, shortcake. Hangover gone yet? Lunch at the quad today?

  I stare at the screen for a minute but there’s no immediate reply, so I head back to my room to get ready for class. After a quick shower, I make my way into my room and grab some clothes for the day. I’m not one of those guys who plans his fucking outfits, so I grab the nearest, cleanest looking jeans, then throw on a Sinners t-shirt and some sneakers and call it good.

  My cell beeps just as I’m pulling my socks on and I immediately abandon my task and leap for it.

  Shortcake – Hangover is all gone, thank God. I’m never drinking again. Lunch sounds good. My class finishes at 12.15.

  Me – Perfect. I have human anatomy in the building next to you, so wait for me and we can walk over together. PS I’m running low on snuggles, I’m gonna need to top up tonight.

  The three dots appear, showing she’s typing a reply, then they disappear, then reappear again. I wait with baited breath, hoping she’ll remind me that I had plenty of snuggles on the night I spent in her bed.

  Shortcake – Sounds good, class is starting, see you later.

  My shoulders slump and I let my cellphone fall to my comforter. This was the perfect chance to talk about what happened this weekend and she never said a word.

  My hands are shaking as I type out a reply to his text message. Was he drunker than I thought he was? He said he hadn’t had that much to drink, was he lying? We spent an entire night curled in each other’s arms and he’s pretending like it never even happened.

  Anger pulses through me. I wasn’t expecting him to declare his undying love for me or anything, but to pretend we didn’t make out like horny rabbits then share a bed is just kind of insulting.

  Before I can think better of it, I lift my cell back up and type out a text to Kent.

  Me – Hey, Kent. I had a great time the other night, although my hangover was an absolute beast. We’re all meeting for lunch at the quad again today. I’m not sure what time your morning classes are, but we’ll be there about 12.30 and it would be cool if you came x

  I hit send before I can think any better of it, then force back all of the doubts and guilt that hit me like a tidal wave. Am I just using him to get back at Griffin? Does Griffin even care? Will he even realize what I’m doing?

  My mind swims with a thousand questions that make me wish I’d stayed completely oblivious to guys, like I was during high school. For years I’ve complained about how my family made me untouchable, unapproachable, but I never had to worry about my own motives when every guy in my school knew not to get involved.

  “Hey, Red,” a low gruff voice says.

  Turning toward the voice I find Van lowering himself into the seat at my side, a wry smile curling at the edges of his lips.

  “Hey,” I say, unsure how to act around this guy after my outburst on the weekend. “Err, I didn’t know you were in this class.”

  “Yep, I usually sit over there,” he says, pointing to a seat a few rows back from where we’re sat.

  I busy myself with my cell, feeling self-conscious. Van seemed like a nice guy when I met him at the frat house, but the other morning when I almost stepped in front of his car and this weekend at the bar, he’s been a little strange. I mean the guy is hot, big and muscular, with a presence that refuses to be ignored, but there’s something about him that’s making me feel cautious.

  For a moment I consider apologizing for my outburst in the bar. Telling someone that your daddy could kill them then hide the body isn’t exactly your average Friday night bar conversation. But something tells me that Van wasn’t scared off by my attitude. In fact, the fact he’s here sitting next to me, tells me that I might actually have intrigued him, rather than sent him running away from the crazy girl.

  “So what time?” He drawls, his accent thick and syrupy.

  “What?” I ask, turning to look at him, my brows furrowed.

  “What time should I pick you up on Friday for our date?”

  I can’t help the smile that slips across my lips. His cocksure attitude doesn’t offend me like I expect it to. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me, like he isn’t going to take no for an answer, or maybe it’s the swagger he’s exuding just by sitting in his seat. “How ‘bout never,” I sass back, biting my bottom lip with my teeth to stop my smile spreading even bigger.

  “How ‘bout eight,” he sasses right back, without missing a beat.

  “How ‘bout coffee?”

  “How ‘bout happy hour?”

  I pause, looking up at him from beneath my lashes. “Happy hour, as friends” I concede, then look away from him, turning toward the front of the class.

  “I’m not looking for a friend,” he growls.

  “That’s all I have to offer right now,” I say.

  “Ahh, let me guess, the bodyguard.”

  I want to deny it, I really do, but what’s the point. He was at the bar; he saw the way Griff was touching me and that I wasn’t pushing him away. I nod slowly.

  “He gonna try to kick my ass just for talking to you?” He asks with an amused smirk.

  “No,” I laugh.

  “You sure, he looks like one of those possessive
types.”

  I shake my head. “He’s more interested in playing bodyguard than boyfriend,” I confess, unsure why I’m talking about this with him at all.

  Van laughs again, the sound so infectious I can’t help but smile. “The way he had his hands on you at the bar says otherwise.”

  A cold scoff escapes my throat. “Trust me, he’s not interested.”

  “So then you can go out with me, not as friends,” Van says, challenging me with an arch of his eyebrows.

  Our professor calls the class’ attention, so I ignore his question and try hard to listen. An hour later, I stand from my desk, lifting my backpack up onto my shoulders and wait patiently for the people in my row to shuffle down the stairs and toward the exit.

  A warm palm snakes around my waist from behind and Van’s rough Alabama drawl fills my ears. “Let me pick you up from your place.”

  I shake my head. “I’ll meet you at the bar, as friends.”

  His hot breath exhales against my skin and I can almost feel how much he wants to argue with me, but he stays silent, his palm sliding from around me. I try not to look, but curiosity gets the better of me and I glance over my shoulder.

  Like he knew I would, his brow arches imperiously and he smirks. “See you Friday, Red,” he says, then he steps over the row of seats in front of us and walks straight down the empty row and out of the door.

  Van fills my thoughts as I shuffle out of the classroom and into the busy corridor. He’s something new and different, while being alarmingly similar to the guys I grew up around. If I liked Griffin a little less and Van a little more, my life would be so much simpler right now. Van knows I’m seeing Kent, he knows I like Griffin, and that I have two other guy friends who are all willing to step in and cockblock me at every turn, yet none of that seems to be perturbing him at all. In fact, he actually seems more interested after my little hissy fit at the bar the other night. For the first time I can kind of see what my mom was talking about, when she said she loves how my dad pursued her. I’ve never had a guy come back to try again after I rejected him, and although maybe I should be a little annoyed with him not for backing off after I told him too, it’s also kind of sweet, in a weird way.

  When I finally breach the outside doors, the sun blinds me for a minute and I squint, trying to give my eyes a chance to adjust to the brightness, after being in the dim, windowless classroom for the last hour.

  Blinking rapidly, the bright spots in my vision clear and I find Griffin a few yards ahead of me. Even with his hands buried in his pockets, he still cuts an imposing figure against the other students milling around us. Everything about him is big. He’s tall, really tall, and built like a footballer. The black Sinners t-shirt he’s wearing is stretched taut across his massive chest and his biceps are bulging beneath the sleeves. The armful of tattoos he got done this summer are clearly visible and even with a cap covering his mop of hair, he still looks… dangerous.

  I can so easily imagine what he’ll look like with his cut slid over the top of his shirt and it’ll suit him, because he is a Sinner through and through even if he isn’t an official prospect yet. My heart skips a beat and I feel my shoulder sag a little just at the sight of him.

  How have I gone my entire life without realizing how sexy he is? I’m not blind. I know he’s hot, but so is Zeke and if it was him stood in front of me right now, I wouldn’t be thinking about running at him and pressing my lips against his.

  Something changed the night he kissed me after my first date with Kent and now that I’m looking at him as more than just my best friend, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to see him as just Griffin, the boy I grew up with, ever again.

  A sigh slips from my lips. In an ideal world he wouldn’t have crept from my bed this weekend. In an ideal world, maybe I’d be spending lunch with just him, not all of our friends and the guy I’m sort of dating. In an ideal world, Griff would be taking me on a date on Friday, not Van. But this isn’t an ideal world, this is the real world, and in the real world your best friends don’t just decide one day that they want more than friendship with you.

  Although that’s exactly what I did.

  Closing the distance between us, he looks at me from beneath the peak of his cap and flashes me a panty-melting smile that makes my core clench. I’m a virgin, I have zero experience with guys, but right now I want to do dirty, dirty things with Griff.

  “Hey, shortcake,” he growls, stepping into me and pulling me into a tight hug.

  His familiar woodsy scent surrounds me, and I can’t help the way my body relaxes into him. My head is telling me this is a dangerous trap that’s only going to exacerbate my crush on him, but my body is acting purely on impulse. Griffin is home to me. He’s familiarity, comfort. He’s my roots and I can’t help sinking into him and letting him embrace me.

  His lips press against the side of my neck and I wrap my arms around him and hug him back, pressing myself into him and holding him just as tightly as he’s holding me. Somehow in this moment we’ve become the eye of the storm; everything outside of our hug is chaos, loud and new and full of so many possibilities. We’re the calm, the deceptively safe zone; only there’s nothing calm and safe about us now, because my thoughts are pandemonium, anarchy, and dangerous enough to collapse even the most solid of foundations.

  I pull away from him, needing to protect myself, to save myself. To save both of us from the fallout if I allow this crush of mine to develop any further. “I’m starving,” I announce a little too brightly.

  His brow furrows and he looks at me, confusion dancing in his eyes.

  “Let’s go and eat. I invited Kent to join us again,” I say.

  At the sound of Kent’s name, Griff’s expression shutters. He nods, dropping an arm across my shoulder. “Then let’s go find your guy,” he says, displeasure dripping from every word.

  The walk to the quad is short and painfully quiet. I hate this, but I can’t think of anything to say that will make this any less weird. The same bench we ate at the other day is free, so I slide onto it, taking Griff’s backpack when he hands it to me.

  “I’ll go grab some food,” he says, his lips tipping downwards, his displeasure obvious.

  “I can get my own.” The words come out with more barb than I intended and Griff’s shoulders visibly tense.

  He leans down, bracing one hand on the table in front of me. “Emmy, I have no idea what the fuck is going on with you, but I swear to fucking God, if you don’t sit your ass down and wait while I go buy us some lunch, I will throw you over my shoulder, take you home and spank your ass until it’s raw.”

  Pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger a little too hard, he leans down and kisses me. Lust and love and joy and shock explode inside of me and I swear I can actually hear fireworks as his lips move against mine, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth and tangling with mine.

  As quickly as it starts, it ends, and Griff walks away, leaving me panting and breathless, my whole body a mass of overly stimulated goo. My head is screaming at me to get up, to chase after him, and demand to know what the hell that was, what it means, but my body refuses to cooperate. My legs feel like limp spaghetti noodles and I’m fairly sure that if I try to stand right now, I’ll collapse. So instead I watch his broad back and tight ass as he stomps into the café, eventually disappearing from sight.

  He kissed me, right here, out in the open, not hidden away in my bedroom. But the more I think about the way he just behaved, the more confused I get. I don’t understand. That wasn’t a lusty, loving kiss; it was a punishment, a warning. He was annoyed with me, angry, and that kiss was his way of lashing out at me, but that’s not a friend thing to do. Is it?

  I’ve never kissed any guy out of sheer frustration. I mean that isn’t a thing, so him kissing me has to mean something more. Right?

  “Hey,” Nova calls, sliding onto the bench opposite me. “How was your class? I feel like I’ve barely seen you this weekend. Hangovers are such a bitch.�
��

  Forcing a smile onto my lips, I nod at whatever she’s saying, but I barely process her words.

  “Hey,” she says, snapping her fingers an inch from my face.

  “What?” I say.

  “What’s up with you? You were totally spacing.”

  My eyes dart to the café door, then back to Nova. “Just tired I guess.”

  “Gah,” she groans. “Me too. I swear I am never drinking again, or at least not for a few days.”

  Nova continues to talk, but I zone out again. My gaze is fixed on the doorway I know he’s going to come out of soon, and then he appears, carrying a huge tray laden with food and my breath dies in my lungs. How in the space of a matter of days have my feelings for Griffin gone from best friend, entirely platonic, to something so far removed from platonic they might as well be from different planets.

  When he reaches our table, he slides the tray along the wood, then sits down next to Nova, opposite me. Another tray slides in front of us and I glance up to find Zeke placing a second tray full of drinks down.

  “Hey,” he says, climbing over the back of the bench and sitting down next to me, opposite his sister.

  A large paper cup, with a plastic lid lands in front of me, and Griff lifts a spoon from the tray holding it out to me. “Chili soup,” he says.

  Swallowing thickly, I take the spoon from him. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He nods, and a hint of a smirk twitches at the edge of his lips, then he pulls an identical paper cup off the tray and places it in front of himself, before handing out a salad box to Nova, and a huge meatball sub to Zeke.

  For a moment we all busy ourselves with our food and all I can hear is the rustling of sandwich wrappers and the ripping of paper, as straws are pulled from their packets and pushed into drinks. It’s an easy quiet and the familiarity settles some of the anxiety that’s swirling inside of me.

  “Princess,” Valentine says, appearing at the table and ignoring the rest of us while he greets his girlfriend. He kisses her deeply, his fingers tangling into her hair, then he pulls back and slides in beside her, his arm automatically reaching around to pull her closer to him.