Crown of Thorns by E.M. Snow

16

My goal isto just get through the foyer to the stairs before anyone notices me. That way I can go up to my room, lock the door, and avoid this whole venomous circus. As soon as Phoenix parks, I’m out of the car and hurrying to the front door. I don’t want him to try and keep me around, so I’m determined to get inside before he can reach me.

Unfortunately, when I step through the door, there’s a group of girls lingering in the large open doorway that leads into the living room. They catch sight of me before I can slip by and their eyes light up with surprise, and then darken with disdain and disgust.

“I smell desperate whore,” I hear one girl snark. She’s not bothering to keep her voice low, and there’s a disgusted expression on her face. “Seriously, what the fuck is she doing here?”

My ears burn, but I keep moving. I’m so close to the staircase. So close.

“I mean, she is the maid,” another girl with a high-pitched voice says. “Who the hell do you think cleans all this shit up once we’re gone, Kira?” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her staring down my orange Sublime T-shirt like it’s been washed in vomit.

“Good point,” Kira says.

“I bet she’s fucking one of them. I see her with Gideon all the time. Ugh, he’s so hot and—”

“Um, have you ever seen him with anyone? He’s batting for the other team, you ditzy bitch.”

If Gideon is, that’s definitely news to me considering some sophomore girl stayed over just last night. They weren’t exactly quiet either.

I lower my head, determined to ignore the girls as they continue on with their shit talking. It pisses me off that they think I’m here by choice, but it’s not like I can go and correct their bullshit assumptions. I continue on toward the stairs, barely keeping myself from breaking into a run. Just as I reach the bottom step, a voice makes me stop in my tracks.

“Joss? Where are you going?”

Slowly, I turn around, shocked to find Margaret behind me, a drink in her hand. She’s decked out in a skimpy royal blue number that she’s paired with sparkly platform booties, and her auburn hair is loose around her shoulders. Next to her, I’m even more aware that I look like hell in my ratty old jeans, oversized T-shirt, and messy black bun that I might as well take down since it’s starting to fall.

Tilting her head, she studies me intently. I try to discern any sense of warmth or that familiar comradery that we shared before she decided to stop talking to me, but her expression is hard to read. Mostly, she appears curious.

“I-I was looking for Reina,” I lie, knowing damn well that Reina’s not here. Which is another unanswered question. Gideon claims that she stays with friends most nights, but I rarely see her hanging out with anyone at school.

“You’re not going to hang out?” Margaret probes. “It is a party, after all. And—” She takes a deep breath. “I’ve missed you, okay?”

If she’d bothered to ask me what was going on the last few days, she would know this party is the last place I want to be. I stop the bitter thoughts from overwhelming me. It feels like it’s been forever since we were together, and I don’t want to waste time being angry with her. I’ve missed her way too much and with Gia gone now...

“I suppose I could stick around for a little bit,” I say cautiously, knowing damn well it’s the shittiest idea in the history of shitty idea. I gesture toward her cup. “Do you ... do you need a refill?”

She glances down at her drink and then looks back up at me with a shrug. “Sure.”

I abandon my escape plan and tentatively walk with her through the thick of the party toward the kitchen, where one of the large islands is covered with food and alcohol and a remix of Saint Jhn’s “Roses” pulses from the surround sound. People cast us—or rather, me—dirty looks, but I overlook them, focusing all my attention on Margaret. She grabs the bottle of vodka and pours it into a red plastic cup, then mixes in some cranberry juice. Without a word, she hands me the drink and I take it with a hesitant smile.

“Thanks,” I say, then take a sip. I just manage not to choke. Margaret has always been a heavy pour. “You’re not driving, are you?” I choke out.

“No, Mom.” She rolls her eyes, and I swallow hard at the bite in her voice. When she speaks again, she softens her tone. “I came with friends.”

Even though I want to ask who, I simply murmur, “Oh.”

We stand together in awkward silence for several beats. She gazes around at the party, all but ignoring me, but at least she’s not snapping at me or giving me those dark looks I’ve caught in the hallway at school. “Look, I know what you must be thinking, but…”

“But what?” she asks bluntly. “Are you gonna tell me what’s really going on with you and the Townsends?”

I’ve practiced the lie enough times in the mirror that it rolls right off my tongue.

“It’s nothing, really. Royce—Mr. Townsend—hired my grandma for a cleaning job last spring. Since she can’t work right now, I stepped in. I-I need the money for school and college, okay? It’s just a temporary thing.”

I’m shocked at how believable that sounds. Christ, is living with the Townsends making me a better liar? What a depressing thought.

She stares at me for a long time, her blue eyes narrowed. I hold my breath, praying she believes me. At last, she opens her mouth, but instead of poking at my story, she asks something that catches me off guard. “Is anything going on between you and Phoenix?”

Phoenix. It always has to come back to Phoenix, doesn’t it? Not our friend that just moved to Tacoma or the awkwardness that lingers between us but Phoenix.

“No,” I say icily. “Why do you even have to ask that?”

She arches a brow. “Well, he’s been paying a lot of attention to you at school. You’re always around him now. Why wouldn’t I suspect you two have something going on?”

Suddenly more defensive than ever, I hold up my hands and shake my head hard. “Nothing’s going on between me and Phoenix. He just enjoys torturing me, that’s all. It’s like some weird game for him. You should see how he treats the other housekeepers.”

Which is a complete lie. He’s shockingly pleasant to them.

Pursing her lips, she seems to consider this for a moment. I don’t miss the flash of relief that crosses her gaze before she manages to hide it behind a mask of indifference. “All right, I just had to check. You know how rumors spread around this godforsaken school.”

“Well, there’s not, and if that’s the reason you’ve treated me like shit all week…”

She sets her cup on the counter and offers me a much friendlier look than when we first ran into each other. “I really am sorry, Joss. I just … ugh! I don’t know what came over me. I feel like an ass for the way I’ve been acting and how much of a bitch I was during Gia’s last week.”

“You should feel that way,” I say, which makes her eyes widen slightly. This is the first time I’ve refused to take the blame for an argument, but there truly isn’t anything going on between me and Phoenix.

Absolutely nothing.

She carves her hands through her auburn hair and blows out a cranberry and vodka scented breath. “I’m going to find the bathroom real quick. Be right back.”

I smile and nod. “Okay. I’ll be here.”

She shoots me a small grin before turning and hurrying away. When she’s out of sight, I let out the breath of relief that I’ve been holding. I feel a little of my stress lift from my shoulders as my hope for reconciling with Margaret grows.

The next second, though, any relief I feel vanishes when Phoenix rounds the corner, drink in one hand, and a big, shit-eating grin splitting his features. As if the house itself is announcing his presence, the playlist changes to a new song—Rosenfield’s “Do It for Me.”

The song is so sexy, it makes being around him even more unnerving than usual.

“I don’t recall saying your name three times,” I snap, folding my arms as he comes to a stop in front of me. He’s so close that my skin tingles. “Stalking me now?”

“I don’t need to stalk you,” he says, one dark eyebrow shooting toward his purposely disarranged hair. “I’ve got you under lock and key. I might as well wrap a collar around your neck with my name on the tag.”

Plucking at one of my T-shirt sleeves, I grit my teeth. “What do you want now? Isn’t it enough that you’ve already humiliated me in front of my boss? Aren’t there other people here you can terrorize?”

“Oh, there are plenty. It’s just that none of them are half as satisfying as you.”

I can’t stand the way he says that word. Satisfying. “You’re a bastard.”

He has the nerve to look offended. “My parents were married, Luna,” he says, emphasizing the word my. Before I can ask him what the hell that’s supposed to mean, he slants me with a curious look and adds, “But is there something going on between us? Have the terms of our agreement changed? Planning on leaving the door unlocked for me tonight?”

Warmth spreads through me, but I pretend it’s not there because it’s a terrifying notion. Being affected by this monster. “Why were you eavesdropping on us?”

He bends his head until his lips hover over my ear, and I wonder if he knows how hard my heart is hammering against my ribcage. He inhales. Breathes in the scent of my vanilla and papaya shampoo. Exhales a low hum of approval from the back of his throat.

I just about lose it and not at all in the way I should.

I feel his lips slowly spread into a grin against my skin as he reaches behind my head and releases my bun so that my hair falls around my shoulders. Every hair on my scalp stands to attention.

A beat passes, and then he husks, “Because I love watching you squirm.”

Breaking away from him, I lash out without thinking. My hand swipes for his cup to knock it from his grip. To my horror, his other arm comes up and his finger wrap around my wrist, stopping me before I can even make contact. He squeezes but keeps his grip just south of painful. His eyes flash with warning, though his expression remains cocky and amused.

“Inherited that infamous Luna violent streak, I see.” When his words make me suck in a breath through my teeth, a grin splits his features. “Is your brother aware of your claws or do you still have that motherfucker fooled with the doormat act?”

“I hate you.”

“Liar. You don’t have it in you to truly hate anyone. Now, be a good girl before you draw even more attention to yourself. As much as I’d love to punish you in front of the whole school, I’m going to pretend that shit never happened. You and your ass can thank me later.”

Holy shit, did he just threaten to spank me?

For a moment, we stare at each other, and I feel something swirling low in my belly. It’s hot and achy, but I don’t want to think about what it could mean. That’s seems far too dangerous.

At last, he lets go of my wrist, and I take a hurried step away from him. It doesn’t escape my notice that he’s right. We have attracted attention, and I shudder because I know that this entire exchange will blow up in my face come Monday.

“Well, this has been fun,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his deep voice. “But if you’re not going to hop on my dick, I’m going to go find some other willing slut who will.”

I try to ignore the image his words provoke in my head, but I fail. “I don’t care what you do.”

He shrugs, unfazed. “Sometimes you just need to get your dick wet, Luna, and usually one pussy is as good as the next.”

He’s so callous about sex, it makes me feel even more self-conscious that I have zero experience. Not that I’d ever sleep with him. If the human race depended on the two of us fucking to survive, we’d all disintegrate to dust.

“Well, good luck,” I sneer. “I hope you don’t get an STD, although I suspect you’re dripping with a whole host of them by now.”

I don’t wait for him to respond. Turning on my heel, I march away with my head held high and my pulse pounding in my throat. I half expect him to chase after to me just to keep screwing with my head, but when I glance over my shoulder, he’s gone. No doubt to find some unfortunate girl to stave off his boredom.

Whoever she is has my deepest sympathies.

Leaving the kitchen, I search for Margaret. She’s been gone awhile now, so I would think she’d be out of the bathroom. Regardless, I head in the direction of one of the first-floor bathrooms (there are three, for Christ’s sake), expecting to bump into her at some point. When I do finally spot her, I come to an immediate halt.

My heart plummets to my feet.

She’s with Kallista and her flock. They’re chatting like old friends and laughing about something. None of them have noticed me yet, so I ease closer until I can make out some of what they’re saying.

“She’s so pathetic,” Kallista sighs. “Does she really think anyone’s going to buy that housekeeper bullshit? Please, she’s fucking someone.”

“Think it’s Phoenix?” Sydney asks. “What do you think Kristyn’ll think?”

Kallista goes rigid and shoots her best friend a glare that could start a fire. “Phoenix would never stoop so low. He’s not trying to get trapped by some bitch that’s bound to get fat again after she pops out a few anchor babies.”

Wow.

“Then who?” Daphne asks, fluttering her lash extensions at Kallista. “Gideon?”

“I bet it’s their dad,” Margaret snorts, her words landing hard and leaving bruises on my soul. “Why else would she be hanging around here if she wasn’t screwing their old man?”

“Oh, shit, I bet you’re right!” Kallista laughs. “No wonder Phoenix hates her so much. Nasty little homewrecker. I mean, I actually like their mom.”

At that moment, Sydney twists in my direction. She does a double take, her eyes popping so wide that it might be comical if they weren’t ripping me apart. She slides closer to Kallista so she can whisper something in her ear, and then the she-demon herself turns and spots me. She smirks and flips her long brown hair, fully aware that I’ve been able to hear their conversation.

By the looks of it, she doesn’t give a damn.

Margaret, on the other hand, has the decency to at least appear apologetic when our eyes lock. It’s too little too late, though. Screw her, too. Tears sting the corners of my eyes, but I fight not to let them fall. Not until I’m alone, anyway. I won’t give any of these bitches the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I hurry forward, so determined to get away and up to my room, I don’t really pay attention to my path. Before I realize it, I’m slamming into some tall, solid form who’s so sturdy, I’m nearly knocked backwards onto my ass.

“Whoa, watch where you’re going,” a deep voice chides as strong fingers wrap around my elbow and keep me upright. Dazed, I look up and meet bright blue eyes framed by a thick mop of reddish-blond hair.

The captain of the archery team. Easton.

“Sorry,” I mumble and his expression flickers with concern.

“Whoa … you okay?”

I blink and manage to nod, gathering what’s left of my wits before I look like a complete idiot in front of this guy. “I’m … fine.” And I will be. Just as soon as I escape this party. “Are you okay? I wasn’t paying attention.”

His lips turn up in a half-grin. “Shit happens. You’re that girl from Spanish, right? The one that works for the Townsends?”

Something tells me he knows exactly who I am since he’d gone out of his way to help me in class the day Harmony tripped me, but I draw myself to my full height and tip my chin, instantly defensive. “Yes?”

“Just curious what exactly that means.” He folds his arms and squints down at me. “You dating one of them?”

Jesus, why does everyone assume that?

“No,” I say on a heavy breath. “I promise it’s not even that complicated. I clean for them after school and on the weekends for extra money. There is nothing going on between me or any of the Townsends.”

Stroking his chin, he arches a brow. “Good.”

Now it’s my turn to cock an eyebrow. “Good?”

“I’d hate to find out you were just like all the other desperate girls throwing themselves at Phoenix.”

“I take it you’re not a fan.” Of course, I already know this considering all the dark glares I’ve caught them giving each other. I come close to asking him why he’s even here, but something passes over his face, halting my breath.

His expression? I wish I could bottle it and present it to Phoenix every time I tell him I hate him.

“The guy’s a fucker,” Easton mutters at last. “He thinks he’s tough shit, but he’s just another rich kid living high on daddy’s money. He’s nothing. A waste of space.”

“Wow, tell me how you really … fuck.”

Speak of the Devil. Because out the corner of my eye, I spot Phoenix stalking into the room.

Before he has a chance to notice me, I blurt out, “Catch up with you later?”

Easton’s shoulders tense. “Okay…”

“Sorry.” But I’m already turning to hurry away. “Just avoiding an unnecessary headache.”

I don’t wait for him to react. I just head for the dining room. If I can’t escape to my room, I can at least disappear to one of the Townsend estate’s many hidey-holes. Running my hands along the paneling, I feel for the little latch Gideon showed me. When I find it, I press it and the door swings open to my right.

Slipping inside, I seal the room behind me and let out a harsh breath as I turn around.

“You know, it’s rude not to knock. Nice shirt, though.”

A shocked cry escapes my lips, and I press my hand to my chest as I fall back against the wall. Alaric is sitting on a counter across the small space, a bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingers between his legs. His eyes are glassy and he’s swaying slightly.

“What are you doing in here?” I gasp, fighting to calm my racing heart.

He waves the bottle at me. “You blind, Hendrix?”

“Stop calling me that.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder at the door. “What’s wrong with having a drink out there? You know, with all your friends?”

He scoffs as he puts the bottle to his lip and takes a long swig. “Not feeling very social, Hendrix.”

I tilt my head to study him more closely. The guy is wasted. “Should I get you some water?”

“Are you my fucking babysitter?”

“You’re making a mess of yourself,” I insist. “You should drink something other than booze.”

Why do I care so much about this? About him? If he’s shitfaced, it’s not my problem. I tell myself it’s because I want to get rid of him and keep this hiding space all to myself. It’s the only thing that really makes any sense.

“I’m good,” he grumbles, taking another drink.

I release an exasperated sigh. Damn it. He’s barely staying upright. My stupid conscience is nagging me to help him and make sure he doesn’t end up dead, face down in his own vomit.

“Whatever, I’ll go get you a glass.” Turning around, I reach for the doorlatch.

“Wait,” he snaps, bringing me to a stumbling stop.

Frowning, I glance back at him. “What?”

He stares at me for an uncomfortable amount of time before randomly saying, “We won tonight.”

I blink. What the hell is he talking about? “Won what?”

“Football game.” He swings the bottle between his knees and doesn’t look at me, his eyes firmly on the floor. “Why do you think we’re celebrating?”

“Oh. I didn’t know there was a game tonight.”

He chuckles, but the sound is dark and bitter. “My family obviously didn’t know either. I’ve got no idea where Reina is. Gideon was only interested after he found out we won, and he had a reason to get wasted. And Phoenix would rather waste time … chasing you.”

To drive his point home, he jabs a finger in my direction.

That takes me aback, but not because of his weird statement about Phoenix. What surprises me is the fact that he seems so upset because no one in his family came to his game. That’s such a normal thing for a teenage boy to be upset over, but Alaric is so far from being normal.

“I-I’m sorry,” I rasp.

He glances up at me for a moment, then lifts his shoulders. “That’s life, right?”

I fumble around for something to say. Something comforting, maybe? “I, uh, understand the goal to get blackout drunk now.”

Shit. So lame. So damn lame. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m so out of my element with these people, I don’t even know the best way to show them compassion.

A grin plays at the corners of his mouth, though, so my poor attempt at kindness must have struck a chord in him. “Does that mean I have your blessing to continue?” he demands, but his voice is laced with laughter.

Rolling my eyes, I nod. “Sure, why not? Just make sure you pass out on your side. I don’t want to wake up in the morning to find your corpse.”

He chuckles at that, then holds out his bottle to me. “Thirsty?”

I consider it a moment, but then shake my head. “I’m not much of a drinker. I, ah, get a little too chatty, you know?”

He draws the bottle back to himself. “Probably a good thing you’re not drinking. The last thing I want is for you to be drunk off your ass around this group of bastards. You’d either get the full Sharpie treatment, assaulted, or both. I don’t feel like bleeding for you tonight, Hendrix, and I’m sure Phoenix doesn’t either.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was being protective of me, which makes me think of that day in the music store. My cheeks heat at the thought, but it’s not our random (though admittedly hot) make-out session that I focus in on. My mind jumps to the one and only conversation we’ve ever had about that day, and the odd warning he gave me.

“Hey, Alaric, why…”

He furrows his brow when I struggle to get my question out. “What is it?” he urges, gentler than I would’ve anticipated him capable of.

Raking my fingers through my hair, I puff out my cheeks then release the breath. “Why don’t you want Phoenix finding out I’m a virgin?”

For a moment, his mouth just hangs open as he stares at me, and I regret asking him. Me and my stupid big mouth. What is wrong with me?

“Why do you think? Who doesn’t want a virgin?”

“Um, you.” In fact, he’d looked like a caged animal when I told him that day. Not that I offered it to him, but who knows what might have happened in the future.

“Yeah, but…” He presses his lips together, a look of resolve crossing his features. “Look … there’s another reason you should keep that info from my cousin and it’s—”

Suddenly, there’s a loud commotion outside the room. I can hear some kind of blaring sound as well as stampeding footsteps. Distracted from what Alaric was just about to tell me, I whirl around and fling the door open to look out into the dining room. The blaring is louder, and everyone seems to be rushing toward the front of the house.

“What’s going on?” Alaric stumbles up behind me.

“I-I don’t know.” I hold back my shiver when I feel the heat of his body against my back. “Something’s caught everyone’s attention, though.”

Alaric and I move to follow the rest of the crowd, which is already spilling out onto the front drive. I’ve no idea what could possibly be causing all this, but once we’re outside, I immediately realize what’s going on.

Phoenix’s Aston Martin is sitting off to the side of the drive, and it is fucked up. Someone had spray painted 11-11 on the hood and smashed all the windows. I gape, shocked at the damage. My eyes roam over the crowd until I spot him, standing at the edge of the mob, glaring at his car. His body is tense, his jaw taut, and he’s seething.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry.

As if he can somehow feel my gaze on him, he abruptly turns around and overlooks everyone gathered to observe the wreckage of the car. When his eyes land on me, I swear he seems to relax.

That only lasts for a beat.

Because the moment he takes in the sight of his cousin leaning against me, his demeanor morphs into something else. Something that makes my mouth go dry with dread. The look he just had as he was staring at his car was nothing compared to the one that he’s giving me now. It’s a look that promises retribution.

Suffering.

It’s a look that’s more chilling than any he’s given me before, and I know without a doubt that I’m in deep shit.