KILLIAN

I kick some boy Nikolai brought over out of my path.
Actually, make that two boys and a random girl.
My cousin usually has more women than men around, but
he’s been acting strange since the initiation last night.
The boys are hammered, probably high, and don’t even whine
as I push them with my foot.
Nikolai, however, isn’t between them, gracing us with a porn
show first thing in the morning. Exhibitionism is the foundation of
his soul, and while voyeurism isn’t something I’m against, it’s
annoying when they all start shouting and irritating my sensitive
ears with their noise.
After the initiation was over, White left without bothering to
see who got in. No surprise there since he only cares about the
game part, not the administrative part—same.
Gareth and Jeremy stuck around to welcome our two new
members. The first is Cherry. I have a feeling she’s the one my
idiot brother escorted into the compound and followed her around
like he’s her puppy.
The second is an REU preppy posh elite. We invited exactly
five—aside from Glyndon’s unexpected invitation. We don’t let
REU kids in our ranks, but we made an exception this time for a
scheme Jeremy and I have been plotting.
All five declined the invitation by not showing up. We expected
as much, considering their close relationship with the Elites. The
participant who got accepted isn’t one of them; it’s someone
Nikolai personally sent an invitation then ambushed and held in a
chokehold back in the forest. The one I was sure he’d murder for
his insolence, but whose number was never said by the
announcer. Since Nikolai only used his fists, he would’ve had to
update the back base himself about any of the ones he
eliminated.
Apparently, he didn’t do that for eighty-nine and even escorted
him back to our compound to announce he was a new member.
Something that Jeremy frowned upon, so he warned Nikolai and
the guards to keep an eye on in case he was a spy, then moved
on to antagonizing him.
Eighty-nine left soon after that shitshow—despite Nikolai’s
attempts to keep him here for the celebration.
Cherry, however, brazenly shoved herself in one of the
bedrooms for the night—probably Gareth’s. She tried to get in my
room, but I kicked her out since I was busy looking at my phone
for hours on end, waiting for a reply from the little rabbit.
None came.
I have no doubt that she saw my post on Instagram and
decided to come up with her dull ‘My type’ painting. Since then,
I’ve been considering creating a thousand Instagram accounts
just so I can report it and have it taken down.
She really has no idea what she’s dealing with, huh?
For the rest of the night, I sat in the control room watching
security footage. I saw every move my little rabbit made from
where she appeared at the mansion like a scaredy-cat to how she
slowly gained courage.
There was no footage of when I ravaged her for dinner since I
made sure to take her where there are no cameras. If any of the
guards had seen her naked or witnessed her erotic face, they’d be
conducting a rant meeting with their maker as we speak.
Am I too possessive? Yes. Even I recognize that, due to the
fact that I didn’t give a fuck about my sexual partners before.
But I realized something.
It’s not only about sex with Glyndon. I have a feeling that I’ll
still feel the need to own her long after she spreads her legs.
During my observational session, I checked that her invitation
to the Heathens’ initiation was indeed sent from our servers.
No trace of hacking or underhanded methods.
Jeremy couldn’t care less about these details and leaves them
to his security. Nikolai is more detached, unless there’s a fighter
he wants to challenge.
The most likely culprit is none other than my brother. Who
escorted Glyndon out like some fucking knight.
If I confront him about it, he’ll just deny it. So I’ll search for
proof and hit him upside the head with it. Logically, he has no
reason to get her involved—except to antagonize me.
The thing is, Gareth is a good boy and dislikes using people.
Then, there’s the whole arrow incident that I still can’t find an
explanation for. Whoever tried to shoot me did it from an
impossible angle where they couldn’t be caught on camera.
It’s someone who’s well aware of the workings of our internal
systems.
Someone…close.
After a whole night of watching footage and obsessing over
my phone like a teenager, I finally came down the stairs.
Once I kick away Nikolai’s fuck buddies, I continue on my way.
I step on something black—someone—pause, then poke at it with
my foot. Did a murder happen while I was sleeping—or trying to?
What type of blasphemy is that? I demand a redo.
I nudge the figure for a good minute before he rolls to his
back with a groan, revealing none other than my deranged
cousin.
His hands are still covered with dry blood—that will be a bitch
to remove—and his face is stuck in a frown, like a whore
dreaming about a boring fuck.
I kick him again. “There are beds around, you know.”
“Fuck off, you motherfucking fuck,” he mumbles, but he
doesn’t sound sleepy, more like thoughtful. “Did I bother you
sleeping on my own damn floor? Let me think in peace.”
I nudge him again, just to fuck with him. “Since when do you
use the word think? Have you hit your head somewhere? Let me
take you to the hospital for a quick scan, maybe see if you
actually have a brain while we’re at it.”
He groans loudly and sits up with the lethargy of an immortal
monster. He opens his bloodshot eyes that are surrounded by
dark circles. Someone had a night. “Fuck off before I murder you
and hug Aunt Reina at your funeral while she cries over her
useless son.”
“What got your panties in a twist, Niko? Bad fuck night?”
“More like an absence of fucks night.”
“Really?” I tilt my head in the three passed-out druggies’
direction. “You literally have infinite options. What’s wrong?
Erectile dysfunction?”
He snarls at me.
“Fuck. It is?”
“Fuck off, Satan’s heir. It’s called lack of interest.”
“It’s called impotence. Our poor Niko. Should I get you some
blue pills? Don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret.”
Nikolai surges up and slides down his pants and boxers,
revealing his very hard, very pierced dick. “Told you it’s lack of
fucking interest. Now, fuck the fuck off before I stab you with it.”
“Highly not recommended, you’ll just break your stick of joy.” I
throw a bored glance at his companions for the night. “None of
them would do?”
He pulls up his pants, then taps the back of his pocket,
retrieves a crumpled-up cigarette, and speaks around it as he tries
to light it, but his Zippo won’t work. “They’re as enticing as STDinfested whores. None of them know how suck dick right.”
I pull my Zippo and light his cigarette, then get one of my
own. “Then go to someone who does.”
He pauses with his cigarette dangling, then wraps an arm
around my shoulder, virtually squeezing the fuck out of me.
“You’re a motherfucking genius, Kill.”
“And you’re just figuring that out?”
He continues the mission of being a clingy fuck. “You’re right, I
should just change scenery. Care for some shooting lessons? That
instructor is good at getting on her knees.”
“Can’t. Busy.” I slip out of his octopus hold, then swiftly shove
him away.
“Boo. I’ll go with my fave cousin, Gaz. You can kindly fuck off.”
I flip him off on my way out, then instead of lighting my
cigarette, I throw it away.
Something tastes off about it.
After attending my first class, I take a mock test that my
colleagues basically flip their shit about. With their dark circles
and tiresome dramatics, one would think they’re not fit to be the
elite of the elite.
If these bitches can’t calm themselves over some test, how are
they supposed not to break down in the middle of the ER or a
surgery?
So what if I didn’t study for the test myself? My genius
neurons took care of half of it and the professor helped me with
the other half when I went all charming on her.
Smarter not stronger. Or, God forbid, emotional.
What’s so great about emotions anyway? All my life, I’ve only
seen them cause more harm than good. If people toned down on
that poison a little, they wouldn’t need the drugs to battle it.
Once first period ends, I check my phone and ignore the
countless meaningless notifications except for one.
Mom: Morning, baby boy! I hope you’re having a great day.
Mom loves you to Neptune and back.
I snicker. I think Mom just refuses to believe we’ve grown up
anymore.
When we were little, people told their kids they loved them to
the moon and back, but Mom picked the most distant planet in
the solar system and told us that’s how much she loves us.
I scribble a few things on my draft sheet that I usually don’t
use, but pretend I do for Mom’s sake. At least that way, she’ll
think her son is normal and struggles with shit.
It’s not one hundred percent effective, but it definitely helps in
diluting her interest.
Then I take a picture and send it over.
Killian: Had a test this morning. Think I’ll do well?
Mom: I know you will. Even if the world stops believing in
you, I won’t.
I tilt my head to the side, reading and re-reading her message.
I guess she’s obliged by nature to love me unconditionally, even if
a part of her will always be scared of me.
At least she tries, and I respect that about her.
I also respect Dad’s needs to establish clear boundaries. I
would’ve probably done the same if I were him.
The only difference is, I don’t want to be in the same room
with him.
Not after that day.
“We should’ve only had Gareth.” I heard him tell Mom when I
punched one of my classmates because he was bullying my
cousin.
Mom cried her eyes out. “Ash! If you love me, don’t ever say
anything like that again. Killian is our son, too.”
“A defective one.”
That’s what I was. The defective one.
I didn’t hear what Mom said after that, because Dad’s words
made sense. I’m the defective one compared to Gareth, and even
Nikolai.
Still the most superior, just saying.
I check my other notifications but find no answer from the
bothersome fucking little rabbit.
Switching to her tags, I find a picture Annika posted first thing
this morning, probably after Jeremy escorted her back to REU.
It’s a selfie taken in their apartment. Ava is leaning on a huge
cello that nearly swallows her, making peace signs and slightly
closing her eyes while grinning.
Annika practically mirrors her. And a girl with silver hair is half
hiding behind Ava and letting her hair camouflage the other side.
Only her body and the books she’s hugging to her chest are
visible from this angle.
My attention slides to Glyndon, who was caught while
swinging her backpack over her shoulder and smiling awkwardly.
She’s the most non-spontaneous, terribly unsociable person I
know.
But she’s so real, it fucking pisses me off.
She’s obviously alive and voluntarily chose to ignore my text.
annika-volkov: Different majors. One heart. Love these girls
to pieces xxx
I pause when I find another tag for Glyndon that was posted
fifteen minutes ago. This time, she’s completely oblivious to the
picture being taken since Remington is showing half of his pouting
face while she and Creighton are in the background with books on
their laps.
Her brow is furrowed in concentration as if her surroundings
don’t exist.
lord-remington-astor: In my defense, when I said maybe
we should study, I was half-conscious and totally didn’t mean it.
Now, I’m stuck with these nerds. Send help.
I tap my finger against the back of my phone once, then ditch
second period altogether and drive to the other campus.
It takes me some time to reach the art school since REU
practically threw it all the way to the back.
When I arrive, Creighton and Remington are nowhere to be
found. Instead, a boy with blond hair and shiny brown eyes sits
with Glyndon on the edge of the fountain.
He even has his hair styled as if he’s at some formal event.
Oh, and he’s wearing a cardigan sweater and khaki pants.
Fucking gag.
Though that plan is put to an abrupt halt when I catch glimpse
of her laughing. Not smiling, not pretending to be nice as the King
she was brought up to be, but flat out laughing.
What are the chances of drowning that boy in the fountain
without anyone noticing? Probably zero since it takes someone a
long time to die by drowning. The gurgling, struggling, and slow
fucking death may be worth being locked up for, though.
Choices. Choices.
The sight of her being all radiant while wearing her usual top,
shorts, and denim jacket triggers an uneasy feeling.
Could be the need for destruction—preferably of his face—or a
queasiness I’m not used to.
Could be both.
I stalk in their direction, as slowly as possible, then sit beside
Glyndon and wrap an arm around her shoulder. By the time she
notices me, it’s too late.
Now that she’s in my clutches, there’s nothing in this world
that would make me let her go.
Except for when I get bored.
And that’s simply not in the immediate plans.
Her lips part, pink today, like a shade of her favorite raspberry
perfume. A blonde strand escapes the rest of her hair and I tuck it
behind her ear slowly, letting my fingers linger on her translucent
skin.
My cock hardens when a red hue covers her cheeks.
Fuck.
I knew red was my favorite color.
“What…what are you doing here?” Now, this is a voice I could
listen to all day long. Sweet, low, definitely not on the infuriating
spectrum by any means.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I came to see you, baby.
Aren’t you going to introduce me to your company?”
The fire that eats up her eyes, obviously no longer shocked,
hardens my dick further.
Maybe she’s right and everything she does is able to stroke my
libido.
Glyndon elbows me and I let her, taking the hit and pretending
to wince.
“No,” she whispers.
“You know that word has no meaning to me,” I whisper back,
then stare at the preppy-not-her-type guy. Jeremy and Nikolai say
I have the most frightening ‘back the fuck off’ face and I make full
use of it as I make my voice lower. “Killian Carson, Glyndon’s
boyfriend. You?”
“You’re not—” It’s my turn to tighten my hold on her shoulder,
making her wince and shut up.
Preppy-totally-not-her-type guy clears his throat, his
expression faltering. “Stuart. Glyn and I go to school together.”
Stuart. Pfft. Of course his name is fucking Stuart.
It’s with effort that I suppress laughter. “Nice to meet you,
Stuart, that’s such a lovely name. How are your parents?”
“Uh, good. I think?”
“Might want to check on them. I wouldn’t trust the safety of
people with such naming skills.”
This time, Glyndon elbows me hard enough to make me grunt
and smiles at him. “Never mind Killian. He has a twisted sense of
humor.”
“Okay, Glyn.”
“Glyndon.” My humor disappears. “That’s her name.”
“Uh, right.” Stuart-still-not-her-type absentmindedly reaches
for his messenger bag and stands up. “I’m…uh, I have to do an
assignment. I’ll see you around, Glyn…don.”
Fucker escapes as if his ass is on fire and I continue watching
him until he disappears into the building while simultaneously
thinking of effective ways to stop him from breathing near her
anymore.
Glyndon tries and promptly fails to free herself from me, which
causes her to huff, and even the sound is adorable.
What the hell makes her that?
The mystery is starting to piss me the fuck off.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you scare Stuart
away? He’s a bit delicate.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “Of course he’s delicate. I’d be
surprised he’s anything but a dainty flower with that type of
name. There should be a petition to lock his parents up for it.”
“You’re a damn prick. Leave me alone.”
“Didn’t you hear? We’re boyfriend and girlfriend now. I can’t
just leave you alone.”
“I don’t want to be your girlfriend. In fact, I don’t want to be
your anything.”
“Good thing you have no say in it. Also, you left me on Read.”
“Wasn’t in the mood to talk to you while you were fucking your
girlfriend.”
“Look at you being adorably jealous. Were you upset that I
tore through her cunt with my cock? Did you imagine me eating
her pussy and making her choke on my cum like I did to you? Did
it hurt?”
She whips her head in my direction, her lips thinned in a line.
“Screw you.”
“No, you actually told me to go screw Cherry.” I retrieve my
phone and scroll to my contacts. “She’s usually one call away. If
she comes, will you stay and watch this time or run away like a
scared little rabbit again?”
She pushes me away, harder this time, and even though she
uses all her strength, I still pin her in place, my voice losing all
nonchalance. “Sit the fuck down. We’re not done.”
Her face twists and a tear clings to her lid. “You already have a
fucktoy, why don’t you leave me alone?”
“Cherry isn’t my fucktoy, you are. If you play difficult again
and say you don’t care if I fuck her, I’ll stuff her with my cock
while you watch, then I’ll revoke my nice phase and deflower you
on the spot. I’m not a patient person, Glyndon, but I’ve been
trying to conjure that trait for you. If you show no appreciation for
my efforts, I’ll just let my devil side take over.”
Her lips part, some of the fight dispersing. “You…didn’t sleep
with her?”
“No. Do you want me to?”
She stares at the side, the ground. Anywhere but at me.
However, I can see her throat bobbing up and down with a
swallow.
I use my hand on her shoulder to switch her attention back to
me. “Answer the question. Should I call Cherry?”
“No.” Her voice is barely a whisper, eaten up by the commotion
around us, but I hear it.
This is the first time she freed herself of moral shackles and let
go.
Is it too early to fuck her on the edge of this same fountain
and then think of a swift way to get rid of witnesses?
No.
Repress.
I don’t want to scare her away when she’s finally speaking the
truth.
“What did you just say?” I play dumb. “I didn’t hear.”
She stares at me, more assertively this time. “I don’t want you
to fuck Cherry.”
“Are you possessive of me, baby?”
“No. It’s for myself. If you won’t leave me alone, I refuse to be
your or anyone else’s side piece.”
“If you say so.”
“I mean it.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“If you touch any other woman, I’ll go find my type.”
“The Stuart variety? I’m sure your family would hire someone
to kill him before adding that name to their repertoire. Maybe I
can do them the favor.”
She huffs, eyes dripping with pure mischief. “That’s where
you’re mistaken. My family always wanted me to end up with the
Prince Charming type. Pretty sure they’d approve of Stuart.”
My jaw clenches. “Not if he somehow ends up disfigured.”
“Do you have to use violence for everything?”
“Not everything, no. Just whatever stands in my way.” I stroke
her cheek. “Don’t be that, baby. All right?”
“I’m not scared of you.”
I let my lips stretch into a smirk as I see myself in her bright,
determined eyes. It’s the only time I’ve looked forward to looking
in a mirror. “That's what I like about you, my little rabbit.”
Her lips fall open in an O and then she closes them and
reaches for her bag to retrieve a sandwich.
I snatch it out of her hand and push it to the side.
“Give it back,” she grumbles. “I’m hungry.”
“And this is junk.”
“Better than starving.”
“I knew you had trouble taking care of your physical needs. I
bet you’re the type who stays up all night doing some passion
project, sleeps two hours, then goes to class with dark circles.”
“How…the hell do you know that?” She narrows her eyes. “Are
you psychic?”
“When it comes to you? Always.” I reach into my backpack and
fetch the container I prepared early this morning and place it on
her lap.
She looks at it expectantly. “Will I find a dead rat in this?”
“Shh. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“You’re not funny.”
“So you keep telling me, but I promise it’s not my intent to be.
Now, open it.”
Her eyes turn to slits, but she slowly opens the container and
pauses. I took extra care in making rice, shrimp, two types of
salad and some eggs.
“Wow.” Her lips part. “You…made this?”
“Yeah. Look, I even did a smiley face with the vegetables on
the rice.”
Her shoulders shake with laughter. “That’s a very creepy smile
and looks more horror-esque.”
“At least I tried.” I pass her the utensils. “Now, eat.”
She takes a bite of the rice, doing her best not to ruin the
smiley face, then she goes for the salad and the shrimp.
“This is so good. I didn’t have any homemade meals since my
last visit home.”
“That’s because you’re shit at keeping up with your bodily
needs.”
“Hey, you don’t have to be a dick about it.” She swallows a
spoonful of rice. “Besides, you must’ve tortured your cook to
make you this.”
“No, I actually did it myself.”
She chokes and I retrieve a bottle of water, uncap it, and give
it to her. I pat her back as she drinks. “I know you’re touched, but
you have to keep it together, baby.”
Glyndon finishes drinking and stares at me from beneath her
lashes. “You…made this?”
“That’s what I said.”
“But it’s so delicious.”
“And someone like me can’t make something delicious?”
“That’s not what I said. I’m just surprised.”
“That I pay attention to your bodily needs?”
“And that you cook.”
“I don’t. This is the first time I’ve tried it.”
“What?” She nearly chokes again and I keep the bottle of
water on the ready. “I mean, what? How can you make something
this tasty on your first try?”
“Internet recipes. Ever heard of them?”
“My internet recipe trials have been major disasters to the
point that Mum kicked me out of the kitchen. After I lit the stove
on fire.”
“Lucky for you, I’m an okay cook.”
“Are you trying to piss me off by being modest? You’re like a
genius.”
“So everyone keeps saying today as if it’s a new discovery. I
was born a genius, baby.”
“Don’t be cocky.”
“It’s my charm, though.”
She rolls her eyes but continues eating, releasing a satisfied
noise every now and then. It’s similar to a moan, but not really,
and I could watch her all day.
Glyndon has grace, even while eating. There’s an elegance to
her movements and a regal aura to her presence. A part of me
yearns to tarnish it in all the worst ways.
And protect it, too.
“I can’t believe this is your first time,” she mumbles after
swallowing the contents of her mouth.
“Jealous much, my little rabbit?”
Her head tilts in my direction, causing the blonde and honeycolored strands to camouflage half her face. “What’s with that
nickname?”
“You were running fast yesterday. I liked it.”
“Well, I didn’t like what you did afterward. Why the hell did
you post that picture on IG?”
“My, baby. Are you stalking me?” I grin. “Mom, come pick me
up. I’m scared.”
She smiles, then hides it. “It should be the other way around,
prick.”
I jokingly hit my shoulder against hers. “Got to stake a claim
so no one dares to come near what’s mine. Like dear old Stuart.”
“Stop making fun of him. You’re unbelievable.”
“And so is your ‘my type’ painting. Delete that.”
“No.”
“Do I have to go the difficult road with this?”
Her lips part again, and she stops picking at her salad to
survey her surroundings. “You can’t do anything. We’re in public.”
“Think again.” I snatch her phone from her lap and place it in
front of her face, unlocking it.
When she comes out of her daze, I’m already on her
Instagram and proceed to delete the ‘my type’ picture.
“Have you ever heard of privacy?”
“Don’t believe in that word when it comes to you.” While I’m at
it, I go to her contacts and see what she named me.
“Psycho’s cute.” I kiss her cheek and she freezes as I take a
selfie and then put it as the display picture. “There. Much better.
You can ogle this when you miss me.”
“As if!”
I chuckle as she tries to retrieve her phone and fails. Over and
over.
Finally, she gives up and throws daggers with her eyes in my
direction. “Ugh. Dick.”
“I see your repertoire of insults has gotten richer.”
“Learned from the best.”
“Happy to help. How are you going to pay me? I vote for a
BJ.”
“In your dreams.”
“In my dreams, your blood is smeared all over my cock, so
unless you want to recreate the image, I suggest you change the
subject.” I grab her hand and place it on my bulge.
Her cheeks turn crimson as she retracts her hand back fast.
“Perv.”
“If you believe that to be an insult, think again.”
She releases a breath but chooses to continue eating instead.
So I prompt. “By the way, where should we go later?”
“Why do we have to go anywhere?”
“Because we’re dating, or whatever label you want to put on
it. In retrospect, that means you’re mine.”
She releases an exasperated sigh.
“Come to the mansion. Niko is throwing a party.”
“Pass. That’s not my scene.”
“Hmm. Then what is?”
“Quiet nights. Cozy blankets and a thought-provoking film.
Those types of things.”
“Your idea of fun is even worse than your taste in men.”
“Too bad I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“Too bad you’re getting it. What movie are we watching
tonight? I’ll bring snacks.”
“We are not watching anything.”
“Then come to the party.”
“No.”
“I wasn’t asking, Glyndon. Either movie night or party night.” I
tilt my head to the side. “By the way, if you leave me on Read
again, I’ll jump onto your balcony and abort the nice phase.”