by Katie May
Cheryl, I notice, isn’t smiling. Her eyes are narrowed in pure rage. With a flick of her orange hair, she turns towards Alex, effectively dismissing us.
But Alex is still focused intently on Violet. I could be mistaken—I usually am, especially when I’m high—but he almost appears…jealous. His dark eyes flare with a banked fire before he purposefully wrenches his gaze off of Violet and focuses on whatever Cheryl is saying.
Remembering the embarrassment in Violet’s eyes when the asshole made her shit her pants, I grip Violet’s hips and pull her towards me once more. She moans against my lips instantly, her soft fingers kneading my neck.
I reach up to cup her breast through her pink shirt, loving the way she mewls into my mouth. Fuck, I want her. I want her so badly, I can barely think straight. Thoughts of my mom and Alex dissipate as I continue to kiss this goddess in my arms. Before I can proposition her, I hear the sound of glass shattering.
We jump apart, startled, to see Alex stomping away, his plate having been thrown against the cafeteria wall.
“What the fuck?” Violet murmurs, staring after him in confusion.
“Fuck…” I repeat with a wink. “I like that word.”
“So do I.” Vin attempts to shift himself on the bench to hide the evidence of his arousal.
“You know what I like?” Violet whispers, a teasing lilt to her voice. Vin and I both lean forward expectantly as she trails fingers down both of our chests to the outline of our cocks. “I like—”
“Violet Dracula, please report to the headmaster’s office!” a voice declares over the speakers.
Violet doesn’t immediately drop her hands from our crotches as she strokes us through our pants.
“What do you like?” Vin begs, closing his eyes.
We lean in even closer, until all of our lips are a centimeter from touching. Her eyes dance with humor as she stares first into my eyes and then Vin’s. All I can focus on, however, is her intoxicating scent that curls around me. All I can picture is a naked Violet as I thrust in and out of her ass while Vin destroys her pussy. The image makes me so fucking hard, I’m in physical pain.
“What the hell do you like?” I gasp as she continues to stroke us.
“Ice cream,” she whispers at last, and I blink at her.
“Huh?”
Without bothering to respond, Violet removes herself from between us and leans down to grab her backpack. “I need to get going.” She bites down on her lower lip with a sultry smirk. “But you two can feel free to jerk each other off while I’m gone…as long as you film it.”
It’s only then I realize how fucking close I still am to my best friend. If I were to lean any closer, we would be kissing and our cocks would be touching.
We jump away in tandem, both of us offering Violet identical glares.
“Not happening,” the Van Helsing says curtly, rolling his eyes.
“I’d rather cut my own dick off than suck his.” To Vin, I add, “No offense. I’m sure it’s delicious.”
“None taken.”
Violet huffs once before sighing. “A girl can dream.”
“Never going to happen,” I say as she leans forward to peck me on the lips. Fuck, what is this? What are we doing? Is she my girlfriend? Am I her boyfriend? What does this mean?
When she pulls away, it’s only to give Vin the same kiss she gave me.
“I’ll see you losers later,” she declares, turning on her heel and racing away. I stare at her ass before it disappears around a corner.
“Fuck,” Vin murmurs, dropping his forehead onto the cafeteria table.
“Fuck her,” I say. In the mouth, in the vagina, in the asshole. I’m open to just about anything.
Vin snorts at my crude comment before his eyes abruptly narrow. I follow the direction of his gaze to see Cheryl fucking Ness sashaying over to us. Can’t she take the hint? We want nothing to do with her.
“Go away, Cheryl,” Vin snaps without pretense. Cheryl merely fluffs up her hair and flashes him a smirk, sitting in the chair opposite him at the table.
“Oh, please. As if I want your micro-penis anymore. I found myself a new man. A better one.” She lifts her chin up haughtily, eyes carefully gauging Vin’s reaction. If she expects him to be jealous or even remotely upset, she’s sorely mistaken.
“You mean Alex?” I laugh darkly, and she whips her head in my direction, eyes narrowing even further. “The man who can’t stop staring at my girl? Be careful, Cheryl, or else you’re going to run into the same situation all over again.”
I know I’m being mean and heartless, but I no longer give a damn. Cheryl’s torment has extended from emotional trauma to physical. She’d hurt Violet, and that’s not something I can forgive.
“I was going to give you a warning, but now I’m not sure I want to,” she says flippantly, inspecting her sea blue nails.
“Cheryl…” Vin hisses.
“I was trying to be a nice person, especially when I heard what they planned to do to Violet…” She trails off, attempting to appear forlorn. Instead, she looks even more like a shark than ever before. And sharks? They attack at the first hint of blood.
“What do you want?” I languidly lean back in my chair, attempting to adapt a nonchalant front. I don’t trust Cheryl further than I can throw her, but if she does have information about Violet, I can’t afford to take any chances.
Ignoring me completely, Cheryl focuses her gaze on Vin. “We were good together, weren’t we? The two of us…against the world.” She moves to take his hand where it rests on the table, but he pulls it back quickly. She takes a deep breath, shoulders heaving, before blurting, “Kiss me. Kiss me, and I’ll tell you what you want to know. If you don’t, something terrible will happen to Violet, something you could’ve prevented. All I want is one kiss, Vin. One kiss. And then I’ll leave you alone.”
For a moment, I think Vin is actually considering her offer. His hands steeple together underneath his chin as he stares down at her pleading face. Abruptly, he throws back his head and releases a torrent of laughter.
When he finally calms down, the amusement fades from his face as quickly as it appeared. “No.”
“No?” she screeches, garnering the attention of the next table over.
“No. I won’t betray Violet like that. Ever. Cheryl? Me and you? We were over long before Violet came into the picture. I never loved you, and you never loved me. We were toxic for each other. Don’t think I’m oblivious to all the men you fucked when we were together. And I know you know about all the times I cheated on you.” Vin relaxes back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest.
“But I love you,” she whines, extending her hand once more. Before she can make contact, her head is slammed into the table with a sickening crack.
Vanessa stands over the trembling girl, her face a mask of raw fury.
“I always knew you were pathetic,” she hisses as Cheryl begins to sob. “Extorting my brother to get him to kiss you?” She snorts, ramming Cheryl’s face once more into the distressed wood. Blood oozes from the blue girl’s nose as tears flood her eyes. I feel a pang of sympathy, mainly because I hate seeing any female in distress. But that sympathy quickly transforms into white-hot rage when I think about all she has done—and all she will continue to do—to Violet. “You’re vulgar and a bully, but that doesn’t give you the right to take what doesn’t belong to you.”
“I was handling that,” Vin says dryly, leveling Vanessa with an unreadable look. His twin merely smiles, wrapping Cheryl’s curly hair around her fist.
“And I’m ending it,” she declares. “Why don’t you two get to class? I’ll figure out what Cheryl knows.”
There’s a reason I’ve always been terrified of Vanessa Van Helsing, Vin’s twin sister and Violet’s designated best friend. And this right here? This is the reason why.
No wonder Violet claimed her. Better to have her as a friend than an enemy.
CHAPTER 16
VIOLET
&nbs
p; I’m ushered into the headmaster’s office as soon as I arrive in the sparsely furnished lobby, bypassing one of the instructors and a young monster nursing a bruised scalp. Preferential treatment for the win, yay!
Dimitri Gray sits behind his desk, hands clasped together in a picture of faux superiority. He’s the epitome of calm and collected, his face devoid of any emotion and his eyes glacial.
“How’s my favorite sociopath doing?” I ask lightly as I slide into the seat opposite him. “Planned any assassinations lately? Is that taboo to ask about?”
Dimitri continues to stare at me impassively. “I am not a sociopath.”
“No?” I quirk a single blonde brow at him as he finally allows himself to relax.
“Sociopaths are much more erratic and prone to violent outbursts. As such, they’re unable to live a normal life. Psychopaths, on the other hand, can be quite charming.”
Well, slap me with a flaccid dick. I think Dimitri Gray just confessed to being a psychopath.
Why does my vagina instantly burst into flames, in desperate need of being squirted and put out with psychopath cum? Pretty gross analogy, but you get the idea.
“Have you reconsidered what we talked about before?” Dimitri crosses his muscular arms over his chest and leans even further back in his seat. I attempt to adopt his nonchalant pose… Unfortunately, that leads to me falling off the chair and landing on my ass with an “oomph.”
“About me joining the Roaring?” I ask from where I still sit on the ground. “Nope. Haven’t changed my mind. Still competing.”
“Violet…”
“Don’t you Violet me!” I lunge to my feet in a surprisingly graceful move and point a finger in Dimitri’s direction. “This has nothing to do with you.”
His teeth grind together as he stands to his full, impressive height, towering over me and making me feel unbelievably small and dainty. And…safe. The man is a glorified serial killer, yet I have never felt more protected than I do in his daunting shadow. “You’ll die,” he hisses, the sound eerily similar to the snakes on Mason’s head.
“Why do you care?” I counter immediately, and I have the pleasure of seeing a crack in Dimitri’s apathetic exterior. I can’t put my finger on the emotion in his ice-blue eyes, but it’s enough to stop me from mounting another argument. My tongue feels like cotton, and I open and close my mouth repeatedly, unable to conjure up another word.
As quickly as it appears, that flicker of life dissipates, leaving his face expressionless once more. “You’re right. I don’t care. Die for all the fucks I give.”
He briskly steps away from me, moving to sit once more behind his desk. My lungs struggle to replenish their air supply, as if when he left, he took all of the oxygen with him.
“Don’t be an ass,” I snap, dropping myself back into the leather, high-back chair.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he retorts immediately. Silence ensues as we both glare at each other, each of us demanding compliance. I want him to tell me what the fuck is going on, and he demands I listen to him without questions. Frankly? That’s not going to work for me. I’m a stab first, ask questions later kind of girl, except for when it’s my own freedom on the line.
If Dimitri expects me to listen, I’ll need answers.
Like, why? Why is he so insistent I quit the Roaring before it has even begun? Why does he express such a keen interest in me, of all people? Is it because of who my father is?
Dimitri tilts his head to the side as he examines me as thoroughly as I examine him. Finally, he reaches into his desk and procures a heavy textbook. “There’s a new class starting tomorrow at nine in the morning. It’s designed to focus on the analytical side of the Roaring. I, of course, will be teaching it, and I expect you to attend.” His tone brooks no room for argument, but of course, being the smartass I am, I can’t help but complain a teensy tiny bit.
“I have class that hour,” I say immediately, attempting to hand him back the textbook. “I can’t just skip—”
“You can and you will.” He levels me with a no-nonsense glare, the message clear enough.
He will not put up with my shit.
“Fine,” I concede at last, shoving the book into my backpack. “Is that all?”
The smirk on his face bodes trouble for me. “Remember, Violet, that there is a difference between a sociopath and a psychopath. The one similarity?” His smile grows until twin dimples appear on both his cheeks. “You can’t trust either.”
I STARE at my reflection in the full-length mirror as I dab blush onto my cheeks. Hopefully, I don’t look like a fucking clown. My eyes automatically flicker to Cynthia’s deserted bed, as they always do when I have a joke I want to say. My stomach tightens into knots when I see that it’s, once again, empty.
Dammit, I actually miss the girl. A lot. Who knew I would grow so attached to a female with a retractable vagina and five sets of tits?
Shaking my head vehemently, I turn towards the dress I have draped over the bed. It’s a tiny black number with spaghetti straps and a belt cinched around the waist. On me, the hem ends just above my knees, still modest, but showcasing my long legs.
I slip it on, loving how soft it feels against my skin. I have forgone a bra, but decided underwear was necessary, given how short it is.
I complete the ensemble with a silver bat necklace I got from Dracula himself. My blonde curls tumble around my shoulders, the white highlights heightening the golden locks. I feel beautiful. Sexy, even.
Confident.
I can’t help but smile at my reflection and see her smile back at me. Her eyes are alight with happiness. The shadows that once plagued her are nowhere to be seen. Sure, they still make a periodic appearance like pesky weeds, but they’re no longer completely consuming me.
A knock on the door startles me, and I grab my clutch off my bedside table.
“Coming! I hope you’re—”
My words trail off when, instead of Frankie at the door as I expected, I see Cynthia. The Woman in White has her dark hair loose today, cascading around her shoulders in snarly waves. She wears a flowy white dress that tightens around her breasts before sweeping outwards at her waist. Her pale skin has undertones of yellow and dusky brown, a common trait in all banshees.
“Violet,” she says stiffly.
“Cynthia.” I fold my arms over my chest and step away to let her inside. Despite not sleeping in here the last few days, it’s still her room. She hasn’t officially made a request with the registrar’s office to switch roommates.
“I’m just picking up a few of my things,” she declares as she stalks to her closet, ripping it open and grabbing a white dress off its hanger. It’s the exact same color and style of the dress she has on. Pretty sure it’s the only thing she owns. She haphazardly tosses the dress over her arm and turns to stare at me. Her eyes give me an assessing once-over before she nods sharply. “You look cute.”
“Thanks,” I say sincerely, shocking even myself. Shouldn’t I be more pissed at her? She gave the assholes at school my sex doll in order to create a life-sized Violet piñata. At the same time, I hurt her initially by accusing her of murder and being obsessed with me. The entire thing is fucked up, yes, but I do believe she feels guilty for the part played at the Halloween party. I have caught her looking at me a few times, concern emanating from her eyes.
“Don’t mention it.” She waves my praise away dismissively before nibbling on her lower lip. “Do you have a…a date?”
I smile softly, smoothing down the skirt of the dress. “Yes.”
“Is it Mason?” She tries to sound nonchalant, but her voice tightens marginally at the question. According to Dimitri Gray—stalker extraordinaire—Cynthia is in love with my snake-headed boyfriend—maybe boyfriend? She hasn’t said anything to me about it, and I haven’t pressed, but the heartache in her eyes is clear enough to see. Shit on a stick.
“With Frankie,” I say, and her shoulders instantly sag in relief.
“That’s goo
d,” she blurts out. “I mean, I think you’ll be good for him.”
“But…” I rock back on my heels, debating what I’m going to say. On one hand, I don’t want to hurt Cynthia, despite our rocky past. But on the other… “I’m sort of seeing Mason, Vin, Jack, and Hux as well.” When she merely stares at me, mouth agape, I take a tentative step forward. “It’s still new and very, very complicated. And the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you—”
“I see,” Cynthia says stiffly. Movements robotic, she turns on her heel and makes a beeline for the still open door.
“Cynthia!” I plead.
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” She pauses in the doorway, but she doesn’t make a move to turn back towards me. “It’s what I expected anyway.”
“What you expected…?” Before she can leave completely—and, consequently, leave my life completely—I grab her arm and wrench her to an abrupt halt. At least, that’s what I attempt to do. Instead, I pull her arm straight out of its socket and awkwardly hold it before me, eyes wide with horror.
Still, it has the desired effect. Cynthia stops moving and reluctantly turns to face me.
“Can I please have my arm back?”
“No,” I say stubbornly, coming quickly to a decision. I hide the arm behind my back and take a step away. “Not until you tell me what you meant.”
“It doesn’t fucking matter—”
“It does so matter. You matter. And I won’t have you placing your worth on any guy’s affection. Cynthia, you’re so much more than one guy’s opinion of you. You’re funny, sweet, and have an amazing set of tits.” Her lips twitch at my poor attempt at a joke, but she keeps her face blank. “Mason and I…we’re complicated, but I care about him. A lot. I care about all of them.”
“Why do you get one hundred guys pining after you while I get none?” Cynthia explodes, throwing her hand up in the air. I wince at the venom in her voice before forcing myself to relax. It’s what I wanted, after all. A conversation.
