Malum: Part 2 (The Elite Kings' Club Book 5) Page 5

  “Let me out!”

  Dirt flies into the grave, hitting my face—

  I fly off the bed, but someone is sitting at the foot. Sweat is dripping down my face.

  “Daemon?” I clutch the blankets up to my chin, the nightmare still fresh on my mind. It wasn’t real.

  “Nightmare?” he asks without looking at me.

  I lick my lips. “Yes.” I wonder what the time is, but if I’m guessing by my body clock, I would say pushing close to early morning.

  “Are you okay?”

  Daemon turns to face me. “No. Finish the book, Puella. For me.”

  I gulp. “Okay.”

  He stands and makes his way back out the door. He came in here to tell me that? Why does he scare me more than usual since he’s been back?

  I rub my temples, closing my eyes while trying to form the right words or thoughts. Exhaling, I flick the blankets off of my body and step all the way down the hallway until I reach the door. I pull on the handle, but it’s locked. Just as I’m about to bang on it, it flies open and Nate is standing opposite me.

  He dips his head. “Come on.”

  “What about Daemon?”

  Nate’s jaw clenches and he shuts the door. “He’s staying down here. By choice. Let’s go.”

  I follow him as he leads me up the stairs and back to the main floor. When we reach the kitchen, Bailey is sitting on a bar stool, eating granola.

  “Hey!” Her face lights up and she swings her little body off the chair, making her way to me. “Brantley said you were here, so I thought I’d come say hi.”

  I pull her in for a hug, the familiarity strong. “Are you okay?” I ask, my hands coming to her arms as I search over her. “He hasn’t hurt you?”

  “Stop being so dramatic, little terror.”

  My cheeks hurt from the smile that’s stretching over my face. “Can I say that I prefer little terror over princess?”

  Brantley pours some coffee into a mug and that’s when my eyes come to him. He’s wearing loose grey sweats and no shirt. Did I say no shirt, because I meant no fucking shirt. His floppy dark hair falls over his forehead slightly, his dark eyes zeroing in on me. The dick print is strong, and I have to fight with myself not to do something girly like bite my lip or moan.

  When my eyes finally come back to Brantley’s, he’s smirking at me over the rim of his mug. “You’re drooling like you haven’t seen what’s under these pants.”

  I roll my eyes, taking my attention back to something safe, like Bailey.

  “How are you?”

  She shrugs. “I’ll be okay. I have orders that I’ll be starting Riverside Prep next year, so I guess I’m just winging it until then.”

  My eyes shoot to Brantley. “Is that right? Awful school…”

  Nate kicks the backs of my legs. “That’s my school you’re talking about…literally. I own it.”

  I flop down onto a bar stool as Brantley slides over a cup of coffee. I take it, sipping on the hot drink. “So what have you been doing while you’ve been here? Are you attending your old school until RPA?”

  “No, I’ve taken the rest of the year off until I start.”

  “Oh, that’s awful. Being stuck in this house with this bossy bastard?”

  She shrugs. “It’s not all that bad. Brantley throws platinum cards at me and bought me a shiny new car.”

  I smirk at Brantley. “I would call that love in their language.”

  Brantley flips me off. “Shut up.”

  I giggle, looking back at Bailey. “Have you heard from your parents?”

  Her body visibly halts, her face falling. “Yeah once. When I told them that Brantley had taken me in, they apologized for everything and tried to cover what they had done to make me come home. I told them no. I think they were scared, to be honest.”

  I snort. “With good reason. Has Brantley told you about the Vitiosis graveyard in the back? Because let me tell you…”

  Bailey starts laughing, her little face tipping back. She’s so beautiful. She’s going to own that school, not just with her beauty, but with the Vitiosis name attached to it too.

  “Yeah,” she chuckles. “He has. That was the first threat he gave me.” She stands from her seat, just as Bishop and Eli walk into the kitchen. “Oh! I got you a gift.”

  I sit up straight. “Me? Why?”

  She flushes. “I don’t know. You saved me. I’ll always owe you, but for now…”

  She leans over the kitchen island, her perky, young ass in the air for all the boys to see. My eyes go straight to Nate. Bet the fucker is eating it up, but when my eyes land on his, he’s smirking at me. My stomach clenches at the stare he’s giving me.

  “Surprised?” His smirk darkens.

  Damnit.

  Bishop isn’t taking notice, but Eli is. He tilts his head, his lips forming an O.

  Brantley shakes his head, laughing.

  Bailey stands back up, thank god, and hands me a small Tiffany & Co. box. “Here you go. It’s just something that reminded me of you, because of your tattoo on your thigh.”

  My hand comes to my thigh before I flip open the box.

  “Holy shit,” I whisper. It’s a rose gold crown with flush white diamonds glistening over every single piece of it. The chain glistens as it hits the sunlight.

  I slam it shut. “I can’t accept this, Bailey. It’s too much. I like—”

  “—She likes Chinese food,” Nate interrupts, choking on a laugh.

  Bailey glares. “Listen, you will put it on and love it because I will be offended if you don’t. It’s nothing. Honestly, and if it makes you feel better, I paid for it with Brantley’s money, so—”

  “—That money is yours too, Bailey, it’s a trust fund.”

  “Shhhh.” I push my finger to my lips, grinning at Brantley. “It does make it a lot better.” I exhale, taking it out of the box. “I love it so much. Thank you.” I stand up and pull her in for a hug. “I mean it. And saving you was no problem. I wish I went with these assholes more often. Maybe I could save a few more girls,” I joke, but she stiffens in my grip.

  “Yeah. If only,” she whispers, her face falling.

  “Jeez, little cuz, looks like we need to work on your poker face. It’s shit.” Brantley tugs on Bailey and starts to walk her out of the room.

  What? What?

  “What was that about?” I ask Nate, who is still smirking at me. “Stop fucking smirking at me.”

  His smile drops, and his face goes blank. Why. Why does this infuriating, frustratingly beautiful man have to be the bane of my damn existence? His lip kicks up in a smooth grin. “That is none of your business.”

  Bishop tosses me a small box. “You need to get in contact with Madison and Elena. They’re both freaking out that you’re dead or gone missing. I told them that you’re fine, but I think it’ll be best if you call her yourself.”

  I grip the box that contains a phone. “Really? And what am I supposed to tell her?”

  Bishop’s eyes flick to Nate before coming back to me. “Not about Daemon. Just say you’re with us until we’ve sorted something.”

  “What’s the thing? And you want me to lie to her about Daemon?”

  Bishop glares at Nate.

  “Bishop!” I snap at him, sidestepping the view of Nate. “You want me to lie to my best friend about something that will potentially push her over the edge?”

  I see Bishop’s eyes harden. “She’s already over the fucking edge, Tillie.” Then he looks to Nate. “You both need to talk with her once this is over. Because there’s a whole lot that she’s not telling you.” He storms off as quickly as he stormed in. My chest tightens. I’m so sick of the dramatics.

  Turning around, I find Nate. “Why is this all so difficult?”

  I don’t even manage to ask where Abel has gone.

  Once I’m back in my bedroom, I turn my phone on, my legs curling under my butt as I dial Madison’s number. I know her number by heart.

  “Hello?” M
adison answers after the fifth ring.

  “Mads?”

  “Tillie!” she screams through the line. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “Tillie,” Madison purrs. “They’ve gotten into your head. Let me come and get you. You need some clarity.”

  Well, if Daemon wants to stay down here, I guess I can tell him that she’s coming, and he needs to stay away. I hated telling him about her. It broke him just like I thought it would. Now I need to find Gabe because I need that book.

  “I’m at—”

  The door swings open with Nate glaring at me from the other side.

  “I’ll call you back.”

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks, his eyes narrowing on my phone.

  “I was going to tell her to come over and just tell Daemon to wait down here.”

  Nate tugs on his hair in frustration, making the ends stick up, which in short, only accentuates his sex appeal. “Tillie, she cannot come here right now.”

  “Nate, I’m going out of my fucking mind sitting here, waiting for God knows what! I’m bored.”

  Nate cocks his head, his eyes dilating.

  “Nope.” I shake my head. “You stay there. I’m not doing this.”

  He saunters in, gripping my arm and pulling me up to my feet.

  “I’m getting rather sick of being thrown around like a damn ragdoll.”

  “It could be worse,” he murmurs, leading me out of my room.

  “How could things possibly be any worse than being dragged around like a ragdoll?”

  “You could get fucked like one too. Move. Brantley is throwing a party tonight and I need you to wipe the sad out of your eyes.”

  “Hard to do—” I pause, squeezing my eyes shut to blink out the memories. Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies…

  My breathing harbors my screams of when I woke and found her threatening to choke me.

  “Hey!” Nate’s hands come to my arms.

  I rear back. “Don’t fucking touch me.” I shove past him. “Good thing Brantley is having a party tonight. I could do with some distractions.” I stop outside Daemon’s room, pushing the door open slightly. I need something to pacify my rage that brutally rose to the surface.

  His bed is empty.

  I turn to face Nate, panic seizing my bones. “Where is he?”

  Nate stops outside his door, staring between me and the bed.

  “Goddammit, Nate!” I shove his chest. “What did you do!”

  He falls backward, letting me shove at him. His eyes glass over and his jaw tenses. “He’s gone out. Will be back later.” Then he storms off and leaves me there, with an empty room and untamed thoughts.

  Tillie

  I tug on the hem of the dress that I borrowed from Bailey. It’s a long sleeve, see-through black garment that cuts off at my upper thigh. I paired it with a lace black bra underneath and—black cheeky boyshorts. I’m not proud of this dress choice, but I’m feeling hasty tonight. I don’t want to think about my past. I want it to disappear. I want to feel numb. I’m tired of hurting. As much as I think to myself that I need to turn dead inside against certain things or people, I don’t work like that. I can act like situations don’t affect me, but I’m only lying to myself. I’m good with lying to myself, and to others around me. If this is the only way that I’m going to be able to swim to the shoreline of peace, then I’ll make sure I float and not sink.

  The music is blasting, spilling inside from the outside garden. At night, it’s even more spooky out there. I’m not sold on it. The back of Brantley’s house shows the design of the actual house. The left and right wing is cut into a U-shape, the whole inside of that U-shape is a mass garden. Flowers of all sorts springing up, displaying the only sign of life. It’s interesting, and not something I would have expected out here. Behind the gardens is where a large bonfire is blazing through the dark night, right before the backyard morphs into the forest and, yes, the Vitiosis graveyard which is obviously hidden between the trees in the forest somewhere.

  I shiver, goosebumps breaking out over my skin. Everything Bran Bran is so creepy.

  A glass is handed to me from behind, so I turn to face the owner. Cash is staring down at me with an eyebrow raised. “Thought you might need this.”

  “Thanks.” I take it from him, bringing the rim to my lips.

  “I take it boyfriends one and two haven’t seen you yet?” He raises a perfect eyebrow, his eyes dropping down my body.

  “Bran Bran and Nate? No.” I shake my head, chuckling to myself. I didn’t plan to drink tonight. I still don’t like drinking, but one glass won’t hurt. I let the burn soothe my erratic heart and thoughts.

  “Come, there are a whole bunch of people here that would love to see you…”

  “Really?” I smirk, assessing him. “You’re an awful friend, Cash.”

  “Aw.” He presses his hand to his chest. “I’m hurt, princess. Truly hurt.”

  I shove him playfully as we make our way to the bonfire. There are people scattered around, sitting on old logs and drinking out of plastic cups. People I haven’t even seen before. When we get close enough, they all pause, everything falling silent, except for the song that’s playing through the loudspeakers that are set up outside.

  My eyes drop, the silence annoying me. I quirk one eyebrow before they all go back to talking.

  I turn to face Cash. “Are they all in our world?”

  Cash laughs. “Hell naw. They just know who you are.”

  “Huh.” I swallow a large gulp of my drink. “Interesting.”

  “How is that interesting?” Cash asks, studying me carefully.

  “That they know who I am, yet I don’t.” It’s true. I don’t. I used to know who I was. Why I was here and my purpose. I had a vision for what my life was going to be like, but I had a life worth living because I had someone to live for. Now I don’t. Giving birth to a baby is only a small part of becoming a mother. I had become a mother when I saw those two pink lines telling me that I was pregnant. That was when my thoughts started to shift into mother mode. Now? I can’t.

  I take another sip of my drink, refilling it with the bottle of whiskey that’s sitting beside Eli. So much for just one glass and I don’t drink. It’s just Eli, Cash, Jase, and Hunter sitting with me. I notice how they all surround me like loyal wolves. They may be savage, they may be heartless, ruthless, and completely unattainable to most people, but with me, they’re different. I know that and respect it. It is subtle, but it’s there.

  “Princessa, I think you’ve had enough…” Hunter says, judging me while passing the bottle of whiskey.

  “Last I checked.” I snatch the bottle from him and pour more into my glass. That’s right. Glass. I get a motherfucking whiskey glass while everyone else here is drinking out of red Solo cups. “I’m my own woman, and also, no one owns me—”

  “—You sure about that?” Nate’s voice interrupts us. I stiffen, refusing to turn and face him. “break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored” by Ariana Grande starts playing.

  “Positive!” I roll my eyes, ignoring the fact that he looks more beautiful than ever.

  His hair is a deadly combination of I don’t give a fuck and I stepped off the cover of a GQ magazine. His tattoos sneak out of his collar, wrapping around his neck, as well as all of his arm tattoos that peek out from beneath his sharp white tee. All of that matched with black ripped jeans and Timberlands is a pot of witchcraft, threatening to spill over the edges and curse us all.

  “You gonna be mad at me forever or what?” he jokes. His jokes are never funny when his lips are curved in that satanic smile. I shoot back the rest of my drink.

  “Yes.”

  I stand up, realizing I want to switch my poison. I’m not really a whiskey girl. In fact, I hate the stuff. If I’m going to drink, I’d like to get a sugar hit as well.

  Nate stills, his e
yes falling down my body. I fucking love this song.

  “Well, well, well, my little terror clearly looks like she’s out to play tonight,” Brantley mutters, sidestepping Nate and making his way to me.

  I feel his hands on my waist, but Nate’s eyes are what I feel the most. He’s not touching me, but he doesn’t need to. That’s just Nate. That’s me, and that’s him, but whatever we have, it’s not enough for me to forgive him. I still don’t understand his wrath when he locked me in the cell, and until someone tells me why, I’ll continue to not understand it. He turned feral, and I saw the worst of him, but lately, he has also been showing me more of the side that made me fall in love with him to begin with. I hate it. It’s so much easier to hate him when he’s being mean.

  “Play, she will,” I whisper, swallowing the remainder of my drink anyway. Nate’s eyes are still on mine. I hate that I’m a slave to the way he makes me feel. I don’t like not being in control, and that’s exactly what he does to me—he takes my control. When he watches me, he doesn’t just look at me. He studies me, examines me, strips the flesh from my bones with a simple squint of an eye.

  I quickly shove past everyone and make my way into the kitchen in search for something with an actual taste instead of drinking lighter fluid.

  My phone vibrates in my back pocket and I answer it without checking to see who it is.

  “You’re at Brantley’s, aren’t you?” Madison says through the phone. I go to open my mouth to tell her that I was going to actually mention that to her, but she cuts me off. “Don’t. I understand, Tillie. I just wish—I wish I could talk to you.”

  “You can, Madison. Whatever is going on with the two of you, you know that I’m always here and I understand—”

  My response is cut short because the front door opens, and Madison and Tate walk through, dressed to the fucking nines.

  Tillie

  I rush forward tripping on my two left feet and tipping over glasses on my way.

  Madison smiles before throwing her arms around my neck.

  “Madison…”