The Elite Kings Boxset Vol. II

by Amo Jones

  “SO NOW THAT WE HAVE our costumes sorted for this weekend,” Tatum says over the phone, as I turn on the faucet to my shower, “have you asked Carter if he can set up our tents?”

  Nate walks into the bathroom, his hair all over the place and his white Calvin Klein boxers on. He doesn’t spare me a second glance, just goes straight to the sink and squirts toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

  “Madi?”

  “What?” I ask, looking back to the floor. No smart remark from Nate? That’s unlike him. I look back up to him in the mirror. He brushes his teeth, his eyes peering back, but this time they’re looking through me, not at me, and when it comes to Nate, there’s a huge difference. I shiver at the stare he’s giving me.

  “Sorry, um, yeah, Carter said he would.”

  “Okay, good.”

  Nate stops his brushing, his eyes remaining on me as he leans over and slowly spits. Rinsing his toothbrush, he puts it back on the sink.

  “I gotta go.” Just as I hang up the phone, Nate walks out, slamming the door behind himself. What the fuck is his problem? Deciding I don’t want to face his bullshit, I walk over and flick the lock before shimmying out of my pajamas.

  Scrubbing the sweet-smelling soap into my skin, my eyes close as vivid pictures of the night they stopped me down the dark road come back to me. My breathing picks up slowly, my chest rising and falling. “You want to play a game, kitty?” The rough material of their ski masks burn across my face. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Flight. My hand skims over my belly ring, down to the apex of my thighs. “You know you want this, kitty,” Bishop’s lazy voice comes into earshot. I do.

  Slipping my fingers between my folds, I glide one of my fingers inside me. Groaning and tilting my head back, I massage the inside of myself, Bishop’s grin flashing in my memories. His touch, the way he rode my body until I couldn’t feel my legs and sweat was pouring out of my pores. The way he ran his tongue all over my flesh and then down to my clit.

  I grab onto the soap and lather up my finger before bringing it back to my clit, imagining it’s Bishop’s expert tongue flicking over my nub. My eyes slam shut, my legs clench, and my core erupts in pleasure as my orgasm rips through me, owning me. Opening my eyes slowly, I blush. I can’t believe I just fucking did that. I hate him, so why the fuck does he still turn me on? Even though I know nothing was real with him? Am I that screwed up?

  Possibly.

  Getting out of the shower, I dry myself quickly and get dressed. Walking down the stairs, the house is eerily silent, something I used to be accustomed to. But since being here, it’s not something I’m used to anymore because of Nate, who is the furthest thing from silent. “So much for babysitting,” I mutter to myself, as I step outside our front door and see his car is gone. Closing it, Sam opens the door behind me again. “Madi, you need a ride to school today?”

  I shake my head. “It’s cool. I’ve got that camping trip tonight, remember?” My dad and Elena will be home tonight from their trip too, so I won’t be coming home after my detour to the library. I figure I’ll get changed in the girls’ locker rooms before leaving and get a workout in before the school gym closes at ten. By the time I get out to the site, which apparently isn’t a real campsite, it will be close to midnight, but I’m hoping that it’s one, easy to find, and two, it’s easy to fricking find.

  “Oh, right. Do you have everything packed?”

  “Yes, Sammy, I have everything.” I step down the stairs, clutching my duffel bag. “I’ll see you on Sunday!” I yell out to her.

  “Oh! Madi!” Sammy hollers, and I spin around.

  “What?”

  She rushes inside and then comes out again, tossing me some keys. “The GMC isn’t here. It’s getting fixed, something to do with a faulty fuel pump.” She shakes her head then looks back to me. “You’ll have to take your dad’s Aston Martin.”

  I catch the keys midair. “The DB9?” I shiver. “I can’t take that. He’ll kill me.”

  “He will not, and he was the one who called me to say you needed to use that car.”

  I pause. “Is this a joke?” I look around my body. “Daddy loves me, but he doesn’t love me that much.”

  Sammy laughs, spinning around and waving my dramatic ass off. “Have fun, Madison.”

  I grin. Dad is letting me take the DB9? That’s so far past odd I can’t even see the fucking aliens anymore. That made no sense. I beep it unlocked, slide into the driver seat before clutching it into first gear, and drive toward the school.

  I’m late. Again.

  “Madison, I thought we had this discussion about your tardiness?” Mr. Barron, my physics teacher scolds, looking me up and down. Mr. Barron is one of those teachers who have an authoritative hand, but you don’t mind, because he’s young and handsome, so you wouldn’t mind him spanking your ass while you call him Daddy.

  Face palm, Madison.

  Five o’clock shadow, plaid shirts, nicely fitting jeans that show his butt. Mr. Barron is hot, so I instinctively blush under his glare. “Sorry, it really wasn’t my fault this time. There was traffic.” His stare stays glued on mine until I’m squirming in my spot. “It won’t happen again, sir.”

  He nods. “Very well, take a seat.”

  Did I mention the Irish accent? Someone splash me with cold water. I scramble back to my desk and pull out my notepad.

  Ally turns in her seat toward me. “Hey, slut.”

  The whole class starts laughing.

  I narrow my eyes at her. “You say it like you know, Ally. Say, don’t you speak slut, too? Of course you do,” I answer for her, bored with her weak jabs.

  She spins around toward me. “Bishop told me about how you scratch in bed.” She’s digging to hit a nerve, and besides the fact I’m pissed Bishop has talked to her about our little fling, I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing it. Fuck her.

  “Really?” I tease with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk. “So he told you just how sharp they are then?” My smirk deepens, and when she realizes what I’m implying, her mouth snaps shut.

  “Still a slut.”

  “Still don’t care.”

  The bell finally rings for the next period and I scramble out of my chair, pushing through the crowds before making my way to my next class. Please, please let this day go fast.

  This day is not going fast. I drop my tray onto the lunch table just as Tatum dances over with Carter and... I forgot his name already... on her tail.

  “Hey, sugar! You don’t look so hot.”

  “Thanks, Tatum,” I mutter, dropping down onto the seat. Carter slips in next to me, and I try my hardest to ignore Nate and Bishop in the corner.

  “She always looks hot. What are you talking about?” Carter scolds Tatum.

  “Please stop.” I massage my temples slowly, taking in deep breaths. “I literally don’t know how I’m going to make it past this day, let alone tonight. I feel like Ally sucks the life out of me, and I’ve had her in all three of my morning classes.” I yank open the lid to my yogurt, tossing it onto my tray. “She’s fucking—”

  “Not worth your energy,” Carter finishes, taking the yogurt from me. He laughs. “Calm down or you’re going to get this all over your clothes.”

  I can’t help it anymore; my attempting to not look toward Bishop and Nate fails me on epic portions, because I fucking look. Only, they’re not looking at me. Nate has a new girl on his lap, and Bishop has gone back to his stone-cold self, not acknowledging anyone else’s existence. Huh. I thought I’d be pleased, but because of Nate’s icy-cold shoulder he threw at me this morning, I don’t know. I’ve somehow grown accustomed to them watching me, whether it’s creepy, annoying, or not.

  “Thanks,” I say to Carter, dragging my eyes from the group of them.

  “So what time will you get out tonight?” He swings his leg over his chair so he’s sitting on it backward.

  “I’ve just got a couple things to do, but I should be there around midnight. I’ll text you guys when I’m
on my way.”

  He looks like he’s mulling over my idea, but then nods. “Yeah, okay. We’re going out after school so I will set up your girls’ tent.”

  “Mmm!” Tatum wiggles on her chair. “Can you put us in the best spot?”

  “What? Tatum, it’s literally in the middle of the forest. There’re a few flat areas where we set up, but it’s black. There are no best areas.” Carter chuckles.

  Tatum pauses. “Wait, I thought it would like, have a lake or something pretty?”

  He laughs. “No. This is a Halloween party camp out. There are no pretty things.”

  I giggle when I see Tatum’s face fall.

  “But I bought heels.” She pouts.

  Carter laughs again. “Take them back, baby girl. You won’t be needing those.”

  Her lip trembles, before she takes a bite out of her apple. “I guess Harley Quinn could wear Chucks.”

  Someone find this girl her puddin’.

  THE FINAL BELL RINGS AND I nervously pull out my phone from my pocket, sliding it open. I’m sick of not knowing what the hell is going on with Nate, so I send him a text.

  Me – What’s going on with you?

  Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I head toward the library. Flopping down onto the sofa, with The Book in one hand, I look down at my phone again. Zero new messages. Frustrated, I open a new message and type one to Bishop.

  Me – Is Nate with you?

  Sighing, and a little more agitated than usual, I shove my phone away and flip open to the next excerpt.

  3.

  The Ritual

  Flames danced around the pitch-black night of nothingness like bright flickers of warmth, tormenting the sky like it had been waiting for me. For my son. Licking over my skin in faded hope, because I’ve come to realize... this was false hope for me. But I hoped someone somewhere would find my words one day, not for solace, and not for understanding.

  I walked down the dirt path that led to the center, where the mass of flames were alight from the bundle of dry wood. Five men surrounded the pit of flames, all covered in long, hooded cloaks. They didn’t have to show their faces for me to know who they were. They were my husband’s soldiers. They believed in this atrocious cause just as much as my husband did. Blinded by some false perfection of what the world should be.

  My husband has always been an overachiever on a larger scale. It would frighten me at times, because when he was fixated on something or someone he wanted, he stopped at absolutely nothing to get it. It was almost as though a blood thirst would start in his bones, and he wouldn’t sleep until he had his feeding. His latest obsession, I knew it wouldn’t pass. They never did. He always got what he wanted in the end, above all. But I had hoped he would change the plans, the rules.

  Though, he said there were no rules. “” he would write, which means “There are no rules” in Aramaic. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, at least not right now, at this moment, but it wasn’t long before I would learn exactly what he meant.

  I walked toward the men, my son cradled in my arms.

  “Katsia, give me the boy.” My husband hurried from the other side, standing near a large, flat, cold stone.

  I looked down to my little boy, my throat contracting and my tears welling up behind my lids. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t care about building a syndicate of men who would rule for generations to come. I didn’t care about riches or power. I cared about my child. But my husband swore that no harm was going to come to him, not one speck. So, slowly but gently, I headed toward the stone, the flickering of the flames lighting up the dark moonlit night like large fireflies.

  “Put him down, Katsia. We will do no harm. That, I promise you.”

  Clutching my son in my arms, the little swaddle wrap he was tucked into flush against my chest. “Your promises don’t do anything to calm my erratic thoughts, husband.”

  He stepped toward me, taking my baby away and placing him down onto the rock before unwrapping the cloak I had him snuggled into. “Your feelings are no business to me, Katsia. Now, leave if you can’t handle this.”

  “I will not leave my child with you, Humphrey. Not ever. Do it fast and give my boy back.”

  His eye twitched, just as he drew his hand back and then pounded it across my face, a loud slap sounding out just as a sharp sting erupted over my cheekbone. I fell to the ground in a mess, clutching the damp , loose dirt ground under my fingernails. Pushing myself up slowly, I looked up at him from the earth.

  “You call me Husband. Not Humphrey. Get up and stand like a real woman should. You’re embarrassing me.”

  I stood again, squaring my shoulders. He looked down to my son, just as someone else came over clutching a metal stick.

  “He has to be initiated through correctly,” my husband said, looking toward David, one of his men. “Bring me the girl.”

  A young teenager was pulled from the forest, stuck in between two other cloaked men. She had a blindfold around her eyes, and her hands were bound behind her back. She had slits already sliced around her neck.

  “What are you doing?” I asked Humphrey, watching the frantic girl pant for escape from beneath the gag in her mouth.

  Humphrey smirked at me. “This is the ritual. It’s what every initiation has to go through after the branding, and then once again when he hits puberty.”

  “What?” I whispered, because I had quite possibly lost my voice.

  He walked toward me, running his rough hand down the side of my cheek. “Oh, sweet Katsia. I told you. This is the process, and you have to trust it.” But I didn’t. “This woman will be kept for him until he comes to puberty.”

  “And then what?” I muttered, holding back the bile that was rising in my throat.

  “And then she will take his virginity.”

  I shook my head. “No.” But even as I denied it, the snarling grin that popped up at the corner of his mouth told me that he was far from finished with revealing his sick plans.

  “And then he will kill her.”

  With my stomach churning, the ringing of my phone interrupts my reading, and I fish it out, flicking to answer it without looking at the screen.

  “Hello?”

  “When the lights go out, and no one is about, will Madison scream or will she pout? Because one thing I know, that you may not so, is how you scream for me, down below.”

  “Who is this?” My breathing thickens again, and I stand from my chair, the book dropping to the floor.

  The twisted crackle of a toned laugh blisters through my eardrums, and my pulse picks up. “Wouldn’t you like to know, my favorite little slut? Tell me... does Daddy know how fucking good you suck?”

  “This isn’t funny.” I look down to my phone and then bring it to my ear. “Seriously—”

  They hang up. The blank dial tone rings through my ears and I shove my phone back into my pocket, bending down to pick up the book. I look around the library. When I walked in here, there were lights on down a few aisles, but now it’s inky dark, with nothing but the weak lighting hovering over the reception desk where Miss Winters is sitting. Clearing my throat, I place the book back onto the bookshelf and collect my bag before swinging it over my shoulder. Whoever this caller is, he’s starting to freak me out. I haven’t even solved his first riddle—which, in my opinion, didn’t make sense.

  Walking toward the student access door, Miss Winters stops me. “Madison?”

  I turn to face her, my hand on the cold metal bar of the door. She walks to where I was, and then comes back to me, clutching the book. Shoving it into my hands, she says, “Just take it.”

  “But I thought—”

  She shakes her head. “Don’t ask, just...” She looks around nervously, as if she’s checking for the boogie man. “Just take it, okay?” Her eyes lock onto mine pleadingly.

  Slipping my fingers around the old, worn leather cover, I nod. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do this, though.”

  She looks ove
r my shoulder, a shimmer of panic crawling over her face before she masks it with a fake smile. “It’s okay. It’s nothing. I noticed how much you’ve been coming in to read it, so I’m sure I can make up some story about it being lost and then magically finding it when you return it. It’s no biggie.” She brushes me off, but I still see the underlying panic beneath her words.

  “Okay, well, thank you.” I slip past her finally, clutching the book in my hands, and make my way to the girls’ locker room near the gym.

  Walking into the empty stalls, I place the book into my bag and pull out my dress, hair dryer, and flat iron. I can’t believe I decided to get ready here. Should I just brave it and go home? No. No, that’s a terrible idea. Shimmying out of my clothes, I wrap the towel around myself and walk into the scolding hot spray of water, scrubbing up in fast-forward, because, let’s face it, all people get murdered in the damn shower in locker rooms. I’ve watched Scream. I know what happens when you turn to get your shampoo. Not to me though, nope.

  Turning off the faucet, I wrap the towel around my body again and slip out, drying my hair first, and then I run the flat iron through it quickly. I don’t know why I’m spending so much unneeded time on this; it’s not like my outfit is to die for. No pun intended. Slipping on the black strapless dress, which hugs around my butt a little more than I wanted for tonight, I brush on some makeup, going heavy on the eyes to add the effect to my zombie masquerade mask, and then slip it over my head. There. That’s all I need. Gliding on a deep burgundy matte lipstick, I walk back to my bag, pull out my Keds, and shove them on my feet before putting all my clothes back into my bag, on top of the book. Now that I have it, it’s all I can think about. Hopefully, the party won’t last too long, and people won’t notice I’ve snuck into my tent to read. Major regrets are rolling in now about me agreeing to do this. This isn’t even my idea of what camping is.

  Shoving everything inside, I swing my bag over my shoulder and then make my way down the dark corridor to the elevator that’ll take me down to the basement of the student parking lot. Chills break out over my spine, and I get this overbearing feeling that someone is watching me. Someone I don’t know or am familiar with. Shrugging it off, and wanting to get the fuck out of here STAT, I push the button, and then push it a few more times in an attempt to hurry it up. It dings open, so I walk inside the warm enclosure, pushing the correct button. It’s a quick trip down, and once it pops open, I’m once again met with echoing silence of nothing between these concrete walls. Beeping Dad’s car, I pull open the driver door with my heart pounding in my chest, swing my bag inside, and quickly slide in, locking the doors instantly.