“It’s your choice,” Blake said in a cold voice, moving forward to rub shoulders with Saint again. Kyan pulled me forward too, lining me up beside him. Brown’s eyes slid to me, his features twisting as he marked me out as one of them. I wanted to scream that I wasn’t, that I hated them as much as he clearly did. But I’d only be punished for it. And I didn’t think I’d enjoy it this time.
Brown clenched his jaw, his eyes whipping back and forth along the four of us. “This isn’t over. Mark my words.” He turned and stalked out of the building and a ragged breath escaped my lungs.
Saint adjusted his tie then walked straight back over to the breakfast table to finish his meal, acting like he’d never been interrupted. Blake slid onto the couch to watch TV and I stood there, realising my hand was still locked in Kyan’s grip. I glanced up at him under my lashes and he mouth twitched at the corner.
“We look after our own,” he said in a low voice. “It’s cutthroat, baby, but it’s how we survive. We’re extending that to you, so you’d better remember to offer the same courtesy.” He released my hand and I was left in the wake of his threat. Or had it been a reassurance?
It struck me that the Night Keepers did have a survival plan after all. They were the type of beasts that could make the most powerful of people quake in the night. And it only worked because they were so unquestionably unified. If you were their enemy, so fucking help you. I knew that better than anyone. And somehow, I was sure the worst was yet to come.
***
I made it through a relatively painless day at school considering the fact that most people simply ignored my existence. The Night Keepers threatened anyone who even looked at me for too long, so I at least didn’t have to worry about getting called names anymore. For reasons beyond my comprehension, they didn’t want anyone abusing their precious little pet but them.
My phone buzzed as I made it to the lake, hoping to steal an hour or so to myself in the Hemlock Library. But fate was not on my side.
King of the Fuckwits:
Come to The Temple. It’s time to learn the rules.
I clenched my jaw, sending him a squid emoji just to mess with him. He couldn’t get mad at it; it was harmless. But I knew it would piss him off all the same.
I headed back to The Temple, dragging my heels until I pushed through the door and prepared myself for another evening in hell.
Kyan and Blake were sprawled on the couch playing video games again. They didn’t even look up as I entered, but the two of them raised their hands and pointed toward the upper level where Saint’s room was located.
“Thanks underlings,” I taunted, breezing past them and feeling their resulting glares following me.
I headed up the wooden stairway and my heart started to pound out of rhythm as I reached the top. This space felt sacred, off limits. And being summoned here was just another power play. The first thing I knew as I reached the balcony was that Saint dominated this room.
The exposed, grey brick walls were bare and a huge circular, stained glass window cast the enormous bed before it in blue and green light; a tree was featured in the ornate image, a juicy red apple hanging down enticingly from a branch to seemingly perch above Saint’s head.
Everything in the space was immaculate. From the rack of vinyl beside a freaking old school record player to the single nightstand and organised dark wood desk.
Saint stood at the end of the bed in a smart shirt and slacks, his hands clasped behind his back and his body haloed in light like he was an angel. It was a twisted kind of joke that didn’t amuse me in the slightest.
My gaze fell on my suitcase which was parked at the side of his room beside a closet.
“This transition has been sloppy,” Saint spoke, breaking the silence but increasing the tension in the air tenfold.
I put on a mask of indifference, stepping further into the room and brushing my finger over the record player as if checking it for dust. I frowned at my hand then wiped it down my blazer.
“Tut tut, you need a cleaner.” It was spotless of course, but Saint’s right eye twitched as he glanced over at the record player with a glimmer of doubt in his gaze.
He cleared his throat, continuing with whatever the hell he’d been saying. “You haven’t been given clear guidelines of how this is going to work. So I’m going to set that straight right now.”
My ears pricked up as I looked to him, slowing to a halt and folding my arms. I left a good few feet of room between us; I didn’t wanna get too close to this snake in case it decided to bite.
“You will now wait outside the crypt at six am sharp, every day. No exceptions. You will kneel outside the door and say nothing until I address you after my workout.”
I bit down on my tongue, rage burning hot inside me like lava. “What’s the point?”
“The point,” he said in a level yet sharp tone. “Is to learn obedience, structure, routine.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes and his glare nearly scolded me.
“At seven thirty am you will make breakfast for each of us. It will be on the table by eight. No sooner, no later.”
I tongued my cheek, wanting to refute every single order he gave me. But I was going to be forced to do this one way or the other. I had to go along with this bullshit until I could pick apart their little gang one thread at a time. It wasn’t my usual style. Patience was a virtue and all, it just wasn’t one I’d been gifted with. But for these fuckers’ downfall, I could wait a millennia.
“By eight fifteen you will be in the shower,” he went on. “And at eight thirty sharp you will come up here in nothing but this robe.” He turned to his bed, picking up a white silk robe lying there and handing it to me on the hanger.
“What?” I breathed, a flicker of concern running through me. “I’m not coming up here in that.”
“Yes you are,” he growled, his tone allowing no room for an argument. “If I wanted to fuck you, I’d have you come up here in a lot less, Barbie.”
My spine straightened as I snatched the robe from his hand, tossing it over my arm. I’d be making sure that it got good and creased by the time he saw me in it.
“Then what?” I snapped.
“Then…” He smiled, jerking his head to make me follow him as he headed to the closet across the room.
I stepped after him out of sheer curiosity and as he pushed the door to the closet open, my breathing hitched. I even entered his personal space and inhaled his brimstone scent as I surveyed the large room. On the left were Saint’s clothes - smart suits, sweatpants, shirts and perfectly ironed uniforms with folded ties and even folded freaking boxers.
On the right, the entire space had been filled with beautiful designer clothes. Dresses and tops of silk, lace, cashmere. Then the finest denim jeans, harem pants, shorts, skirts, workout gear. I recognised some of my own clothing from my suitcase, but most of it looked new. There were uniforms too, perfectly ironed, just like his. But there was one addition to them. Beneath the Everlake crest, threaded there in gold were the words, Property of the Night Keepers.
My upper lip curled back at the words and my neck prickled as I felt Saint closing the space behind me. He toyed with a lock of my hair and I shuddered as he pressed a finger to my spine, running it straight down the length of my back. Goosebumps exploded across my skin and I despised myself for the physical reaction I had to his touch. The wildest part of me couldn’t help but get hot for Saint Memphis. He was the ultimate bad deed. And she wanted to commit it hard. Not that I’d ever freaking let her.