Roaring

by Katie May

  “Nah…” I dance towards my duffle bag and throw in a change of clothes. After practice for the Roaring, I have to head straight to my first class of the day. “You’ll have your chance.” I smile down at the indolent male, ignoring the butterflies that have taken up residence in my stomach. “Besides, I won the bet.”

  “What do you want me to do? Pound into your sweet pussy? Lick you dry? Finger you to heaven?” He winks seductively at me, and I swear my vagina winks back. Shameless hussy.

  “You’ll see,” I say lightly. “Now get your ass up and dressed. It’s time to train.”

  CHAPTER 12

  VIOLET

  At some point during the night, it must’ve rained. Pregnant gray storm clouds can still be seen hovering over the horizon. A frigid wind blows at the back of my neck as I step into the cemetery bogged down with weeds. My eyes automatically flicker to the large oak tree planted right in the midst of all the gravestones. It feels like it’s been years since I first met Jack and Hux, but I know it can’t have been more than a few weeks.

  Mason sulks beside me, still peeved that I hadn’t allowed him to give me an orgasm. And, friends, my vagina is livid with me as well.

  Later, I tell her seriously. It’s important to have a good relationship with your furburger—to nurture it and feed it. If you don’t, it’ll wither up and die a slow and painful death.

  Near the largest tomb at the edge of the cemetery, over fifty students stand in a single-file line as Mummy—aka, King Tut—paces before them. When he catches sight of Mason and me, his eyes narrow into slits through the pale bandages on his face.

  “You’re late!” he bellows, his voice echoing through the silent graveyard. Even the dead are still sleeping at this hour.

  I exchange a wide-eyed glance with Mason before breaking into a run and joining the end of the line.

  I spot Vin and Jack standing together, identical expressions of concern marring their handsome faces. Before I can lift my hand up to wave, Cheryl sticks her head out from the opposite side of Vin and smiles smugly at me. Disgust swirls in my gut like a live nest of snakes as she loops her arm with Vin’s. I can’t help the pang of jealousy and rage that explode within me like errant fireworks, despite the fact he shoves her away with a sneer of disgust.

  Surprisingly enough, I see Frankie standing farther down the line, his back ramrod straight. Frankie? Competing in the Roaring? The man sells drugs in exchange for getting out of gym class. Exercise and him is the equivalent to…exercise and me. Let’s be honest—why run a mile, when you can stay at home, curled beneath a blanket, while binge-watching Netflix and eating ice cream from the tub? Some people need to get their priorities in order.

  “This year alone, there are over three hundred monsters registered to compete in the Roaring,” Mummy begins in a curt voice. His hands are clasped behind his back as he paces, giving him a regal, imperious demeanor. Even in the full-body wrappings, he looks every inch the Egyptian king.

  “Three hundred,” a girl squeaks, and Mummy whips his head in her direction, leveling her with a glare that reminds me distinctly of a frosted-over sword.

  “Are you scared?” he whispers menacingly, taking a step closer until he’s towering over the slip of a girl. When she defiantly shakes her head, lower lip trembling, Mummy releases a harsh bark of laughter. “Well, you should be. The Roaring is immensely dangerous. Last year, we had one hundred and fifty-seven deaths. Do you know how many people competed last year?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, spinning on his heel until he has resumed his eccentric pacing once more. “Two hundred. One hundred and fifty-seven monsters died out of the two hundred competitors. Does anyone know that percentage?”

  Don’t pick me. Don’t pick me. Don’t pick me.

  “Violet?” Mummy stares at me intently.

  “Um…”

  Mental math. The bane of my existence. Give me a cadaver, and I can tell you how to remove the heart with minimal damage to the other organs, but ask me to solve a math problem without a calculator, and my brain turns to mush. That’s third grade shit right there. Fourth grade, they teach you the good stuff—like how to use a fucking calculator.

  I pretend to think about it for a long moment. “…you carry the eight and move the four to the right.”

  “That’s seventy-eight point five percent,” Gills, of all fucking people, says helpfully. She throws a pointed look in my direction, her lips curling in a hideous sneer. I half want to warn her that her face will stick like that…if it wasn’t already ugly as sin. The obstetrician probably took one look at her face, one look at her butt, and told her mother that she had birthed a set of twins. “I wonder how many vampire deaths there were?”

  Mason tenses beside me, and I notice Vin giving Cheryl a scathing glare. She merely fluffs up her orange hair with a roll of her eyes.

  “Are we late?” a familiar voice inquires. “Please tell me we’re not late. I told you that we should’ve left earlier.”

  “No fucking way,” I breathe as Cal and Barret saunter through the gravestones, Cal’s magnificent wings on full display for the world to see. “Cal? Barret?”

  Before my brain can even catch up to what is happening, I’m racing towards them, my hands outstretched. One of my arms links around Cal’s neck while the other encompasses Barret.

  “What are you doing here?” I pull back to stare into each of their faces. Due to their past transgressions, Cal and Barret are forced to remain in the upper levels of the Academy. I’m not exactly sure what they did that was deemed horrific enough to be locked away, and I haven’t dared to ask. They have only been allowed outside a few times before—every Halloween night. Even then, they had a chip in their necks that would explode if they didn’t return to their prison by midnight.

  “We’re competing,” Barret replies with an easy smile, ruffling my blonde curls. “Are you happy to see us, Cheese Curd?”

  Someone begins laughing behind me, but she quickly smothers the noise when Barret swivels his head in her direction. I place my hand on his arm to reclaim his attention.

  “Of course,” I reply earnestly. When Cal’s feathers begin to ruffle—quite literally—I place a hand on his arm as well. We all have our vices, and Cal’s makes him a drama queen.

  “She would be friends with the psycho monsters,” a cold voice retorts from behind me, and I spin on my heel, unsurprised to see the shit head from yesterday standing in line with the rest of us monsters. He’s wearing the customary red shirt, but it does little to dissipate the darkness that seems to cling to him like a second skin. With his tousled black hair, numerous piercings, and the tattoos that cover every available swath of skin, he’s a sight to behold. I might’ve even considered him sexy, if he wasn’t such a pompous jackass.

  “What’s your problem?” I hiss, baring my fangs. When I take a step closer, all of my men spring into action. Vin and Mason step up to either side of me, while Jack and Frankie take up the rear. Even Cal and Barret look as if they’re charging into battle, fierce scowls on their faces.

  The man continues to look at me, anger and rage simmering in his fathomless black eyes. They’re like twin abysses—one wrong move, and you could get lost in them forever.

  “Don’t talk to me,” he says through gritted teeth. He clenches his jaw and stares pointedly over my head, almost as if my face physically pains him.

  “Alex, leave the vampire whore alone,” Cheryl whines, slithering up to him like the lizard she is. She places her hand on his arm—as she just did with Vin—and like with him, Alex levels her with a frosty glare before storming away.

  Silence engulfs the cemetery as I realize I’ve garnered the attention of the entire student body present.

  “That was fun,” Mummy says dryly. “May I please proceed? I feel like I need to ask for your permission now, Violet. You have a tendency to disrupt me a lot.”

  “Oh.” My cheeks aflame, I reach behind me to grab Cal’s and Barret’s hands, pulling them into line with me. “Carry o
n.”

  Mummy’s eyes flash dangerously, but he turns back towards the assembled monsters with a haughty set to his chin.

  “This morning, we’re going to play a game in preparation for the physical side of the Roaring.” He pauses, allowing his words to sink in and the excited murmurs to begin. Monster games? There’s nothing better. Except for maybe sex games. “Capture the Flag.”

  Everyone begins to talk over each other, the anticipatory energy almost infectious. To Frankie, who is now standing on the opposite side of Cal, I ask, “Is it like the game we played before?”

  “No. In this game, there are only two flags and two teams. Your goal is to guard your team’s flag as well as capture the other team’s.”

  I focus on Mummy just as he begins describing the boundaries. “The Blue Team will have to protect the area from the academic hall to the houses. The Red Team will be hiding their flag from the academic hall, past the dorms, to the cafeteria. Are there any questions?”

  When I raise my hand in the air timidly, he gives me a long, hard look that would make a lesser monster shit her pants. After a moment, he shakes his head with a scoff and focuses once more on the line of students.

  “Since there are no questions…” Asshole. “Teams will be broken down the middle…here.” He pushes one werewolf to one side and her shifter friend to the other. Fortunately, this arrangement allows me to be on a team with all of my guys…and to have Cheryl and Alex on the team opposite me. I’m all for teamwork and everything, but not if it involves me making deals with the devil himself. Or herself, in this case.

  “Blue Team!” He throws a bunch of hideous blue jerseys at us, and I awkwardly slip it over my head. It’s two sizes too large and smells like sweat and piss. What did the person do? Roll around in it while helicoptering his penis?

  Mummy turns towards Cheryl and her bitch crew. “Red Team!”

  “What are the rules?” a girl standing beside Cheryl inquires in faux innocence.

  “No killing,” Mummy says bluntly. “Anything else is fair game. If it gets cut off, chances are, it’ll grow back.”

  Cheryl tosses me a smug smile, as if she’s already envisioning all of the malevolent things she plans to do to me.

  Note to self—stay far, far away from the she-bitch.

  My eyes latch on Alex, who is rooted to the spot, eyes surveying me with an unwavering intensity. In those obsidian depths, I can see a banked fire just beneath the surface.

  Also note to self—stay away from Shit Face.

  Mummy hands the red flag to Cheryl and the blue flag to me.

  Motherfucker. I imagine this is what it feels like to be a mother, to be forced to care about someone’s life more than your own.

  Because I’ll be damned if I let Cheryl have my motherfucking flag baby.

  “Cheryl will be the captain of the Red Team,” Mummy announces, and Cheryl practically preens, winking first at Vin and then Alex. It’s like she can’t decide what dick she wants, so she’s attempting to sample them all. “And Violet will be the captain of the Blue Team.”

  Instead of the cheers I expected, my team immediately breaks into disheartened grumbles. Mason can’t help but shake his head in amusement.

  “Everybody!” I motion for my team to gather around me. Half of the people I don’t recognize, but I can only pray they’re not anti-vampire fanatics. The last thing I need to be is stabbed in the back by my own teammates. “We need a team chant.”

  “A team…chant?” one of the girls asks, quirking a brow. The guy beside her covers his mouth to keep from laughing.

  “Yes.” I narrow my eyes at her before turning towards the rest of the group. “How about… Blue Team, Blue Team, don’t be shy, stand right up and stick your foot up Cheryl’s ass until she’s coughing up blood and shoelaces.” I eagerly place my hand in the center of the makeshift huddle.

  Only Cal, Barret, and Mason join me in my chant.

  “For fuck’s sake, Violet,” Vin grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. I swear the man always does that around me—as if my stupidity is capable of oozing up his nostrils. Well…who’s the stupid one now?

  Stupidity is not contagious. Idiot.

  “I’m sorry,” I say with an over-exaggerated pout. “Did you not want me talking about murdering your girlfriend?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” he hisses, glaring at me.

  I place my hands on my waist and raise my chin. “Do you want her to be?”

  “Fuck, no. There’s only one person I want—”

  Before he can finish whatever he was going to say, Mummy lifts his whistle to his lips, and a shrill sound pierces the air.

  “Let the games begin!” he roars.

  Immediately, my teammates disband, leaving me standing there awkwardly with Mason, Frankie, Vin, Jack, Barret, and Cal. I stare into each of their handsome faces before sheepishly holding up the flag.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” I question. On the other side of the unofficial line marking each territory, Cheryl and Alex watch me closely. Have you ever been stripped naked and jabbed in the stomach with a hot poker? If you answered yes, then that is what this feels like. I’m on display for them to see, with the sole goal of inflicting as much pain as possible.

  “You protect it,” Mason says casually, reaching into his flannel pocket to grab a joint. I eye it—and him—distastefully, but choose not to comment. He knows how I feel about that shit. According to Dracula, my mom died of some hardcore fairy weed when I was just a child. I don’t remember much about her, except for the color of her eyes…and even that is fading with time.

  “And we protect you,” Vin adds curtly. He crosses his burly arms over his chest and lowers his face so he can make and maintain eye contact. “I’ll always protect you, Violet. Even when you hate me.”

  I roll my eyes in exasperation. This man can be so fucking confusing. One second, he’s saying sweet shit like that, and the next, he’s sucking faces with my moral enemy. And yes, I meant moral, not mortal. I am virtuous; she’s sin personified. I have morals; she takes those morals and shoves them up her petite ass.

  Thus, she’s my moral enemy.

  “So…shouldn’t we, like, run and hide?” I ask warily, eyeing the collection of monsters lining up at the barrier. I notice that Cheryl and Alex have already disappeared, no doubt to hide their own flag. What I wouldn’t give to pry that flag from their cold, dead fingers…

  Instead of responding, Jack grabs my hand and pulls me out of the cemetery, through the woods, and up the steep staircase leading to the academic building. It’s an old structure, its bricks bleached from sunlight and vandalism, with ivy crawling up and down its sides. At this early in the morning, the building is empty, the silence almost deafening in a macabre sense of irony.

  “So this is where the other half lives,” Cal murmurs lazily, shoving his hands into his pockets and meandering farther down the hall. Despite his nonchalant tone, I catch a flicker of pain in his eyes, one he quickly tries to hide.

  “Actually,” Mason drawls, taking another long drag. “It’s where we have our classes. There are dorms for the underclassmen, like Violet, to live in. We live in a house.”

  Cal and Barret exchange an unreadable look.

  “A house,” Barret repeats wistfully, and my mind flashes back to their abandoned floor at the top of this building. There are a dozen classrooms lining the walls and a dusty teacher’s lounge, but there’re no bedrooms. No beds. No television and no couch.

  My heart breaks for these men, and I make a vow that after the Roaring is over, I’ll find a way to free them. No monster should be locked away.

  Well, except the ones who murder small children.

  And the ones who decimate entire cities.

  And the ones who hang their enemies by their fingernails in the rafters of a gymnasium.

  And the ones who—

  You get the idea.

  But Barret and Cal? Boogeyman and Cupid? They don’t deserve the s
hit hand they’ve been dealt. If I can do something about it, I will in a heartbeat. Hell, I’ll even seduce and sleep with Dimitri Gray if it’s required of me.

  The things I do for my friends.

  “So, we just sit here and wait for someone to try and steal the flag?” I inquire, stepping into an empty classroom and pulling myself onto the teacher’s desk. I recognize the room as Dimitri’s old one, before he became the headmaster.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mason climbs onto the desk beside me and places his head on my shoulder. “Until then, we can finish what we started…” He trails off suggestively, his fingers walking down my stomach until it reaches the apex of my thighs.

  “Don’t be a turd,” I hiss, shoving his hand away. I know my face is flushed, and I can literally see my chest heaving as desire courses through me. All I can picture is Mason finger fucking me while the rest of the guys watch.

  Fortunately, all of the guys—sans Cal—remain oblivious as they attempt to fortify the classroom. The cupid is staring at my legs intently, pink brows furrowed. When I clear my throat pointedly, his head whips up, and he flashes me a sheepish smile.

  “We have to hope that the rest of our teammates find the other team’s flag,” Vin mutters, shoving a desk in front of the door.

  “What happens if none of the flags are found?” I question, swinging my legs.

  “Then we all lose,” Jack replies gently.

  Frankie drops to the ground and removes his backpack—I swear he even showers with that damn thing.

  And…

  Now I’m thinking of Frankie showering, the soapy suds cascading down his body. His hand wrapping around his cock. Sweat and shower water beading on his forehead.

  Down, girl, I tell my libido seriously.

  Using my fang, I pierce my bottom lip until blood is drawn. The stab of pain helps ground me to the present, to the here and now. It helps remind me that I’m alive and breathing, and that I can’t get on my hands and knees and start licking Frankie’s cock like a lollipop. You know, normal things.

  “I have something in here that might be able to help…” Frankie mutters, removing first a bowl, then a slimy eyeball, and then a six-foot liver. Keep in mind, Frankie’s backpack is two feet long, max. I swear it must be spelled.