Angry God by L.J. Shen

“Isaid if you pushed me, I’d push harder.” I clucked my tongue, striding to Vaughn in my sexy lingerie. “Actually, I said it many months ago, when we were still seniors. Remember?”

Because I do.

Vaughn sat on my bed. The metal headboard behind him was round, thin, and perfect for my plan. I produced the handcuffs Pope had given me from my nightstand drawer—I hadn’t dared ask where he’d gotten them—and straddled Vaughn’s narrow waist, feeling his abs contracting under his shirt as he sucked in a breath.

His throat bobbed, but his lips stayed pursed and sullen. He had this upper-class quality about him no new-moneyed man could buy—a rich boy’s pout that stirred something between your legs.

Mine, anyway.

He watched me through hooded, predatory eyes, probably thinking my plan was to kneel like the rest of them and service him chained to my headboard, unable to push my hair out of my face. He was predictable, and entirely too used to getting what he wanted.

But the things we want aren’t always the things we need. Vaughn needed a reminder that he didn’t rule the world—a nice, generous dose of reality check. Most of all, he needed to learn a thing or two about intimacy.

“Finally wrapping those lips around my cock?” he taunted, his voice thick with lust, strained.

We still hadn’t broached the subject of our last conversation, in which I’d told him to take a hike. He seemed to have forgotten all about it. That was unlike observant, sharp-witted Vaughn. Not even asking what I was doing in a sexy nightgown? Why I wanted to chain him to my bed? Why the change of heart?

Your heart has nothing to do with this, I scolded myself. You’re just teaching him a lesson.

My sculpture—partly salvaged, but mostly ruined, with just the face remaining perfectly intact—was covered by a simple beige cloth in the corner of my room. Funny, I felt just as torn as it was.

I shrugged at Vaughn’s question. “Only one way to find out, right?”

I took his hand in mine. His arm was heavy with muscle, but lax, ready to cooperate, and a thrill shot through my lower belly, exploding in my heart.

Locking his first wrist against the headboard, I leaned down to him, my breasts pressed against his mouth through my nightgown. I worked his other wrist, my body humming with sweet ache. Vaughn didn’t try to touch me. He seemed enchanted, following my every move through heavy-lidded eyes.

You poor sod.

“Don’t worry, Good Girl. I’ll give you pointers. It’s not that hard to give head.”

“Suppose it’s going to be a lesson for both of us,” I said cheerfully, standing up and turning my back to him.

I waltzed toward my door, my heart beating so fast I could feel it in my throat. The atmosphere in the room changed and thickened with danger and anticipation.

I doubt you’ll call me Good Girl after tonight, Spencer.

“Where are you going? Get your ass back here.”

His tone held a threatening edge. But there was nothing he could do to me from his position, chained to my metal headboard. That was the beauty of the entire situation—his complete lack of power.

I flung the door open, stepping aside. Pope walked in—perfect timing—still wearing his gray, stained slacks and a dirty white shirt. He smelled of paint fumes, varnish, and labor.

“Spencer, mate. Fancy seeing you in a compromising position.” He wiped his face clean of sweat.

I looked back, watching Vaughn twist on my mattress, his arms locked above his head. He tugged, moving the bed an inch. Even though he didn’t wince, I knew the handcuffs must have cut into his wrists.

“Go eat cow shit, Pope.”

“Oh, I think I’ll settle for Lenny. She seems much more edible. Not to mention sanitary.” He snapped his fingers, pointing his index at Vaughn with an easy wink.

Vaughn’s eyes expanded, zinging with rage. It was the first time he’d looked genuinely disturbed. Stifling a giggle, I walked over to my drafting table, perching my bum at its edge and curling my fingers around its sides. Pope advanced toward me, peeling his dirty shirt off and throwing it onto the floor mid-stride.

“What the fuck is this?” Vaughn seethed from his spot on my bed, tugging at the handcuffs again.

It was the same bed he’d approached when I was weak and young and scared. The tables had turned, just like I’d promised they would.

And whaddya know? Spencer didn’t like the view from that angle.

Pope stopped about a foot from me, waiting for further instructions, his muscled back to Vaughn. We’d talked about this before my birthday. This was what I wanted. My present. Payback. I wanted Vaughn’s heart to bleed the way mine had that final day of school.

I wanted him to feel like someone had clawed his soul out and dumped it onto the floor, left for the throng to step on with each laugh, taunt, and hoot.

I turned my face to my enemy, businesslike.

“Told you there would be consequences. You let Arabella give you head in front of everyone the last day of school. You flew to Indiana for your neighbor’s proposal, taking her with you, knowing word would spread and get to me, that I would know you took my bully, my tormentor, with you. Then you brought her here. And now she is having an affair with my father—my only family, aside from Poppy and Harry. That really did it, Vaughn. You play with fire, you get burned.”

God or not.

I wanted to awaken something in him, something human and feral and shameful. Need. Carnal lust.

He was a virgin, even if he wouldn’t explicitly admit it. And I didn’t know why, but sex disgusted him. Intimacy frightened him. Yet for some insane, screwed-up reason, I wanted him to be my first. I knew Vaughn was incapable of falling in love, but I wanted to steal pieces of him. His time. His talent. His words. His smiles. And yes, his virginity, too. I was a thief of everything Vaughn Spencer.

He was stunningly untouchable. A demi-god. Unreal.

“You were weak,” Vaughn sneered, his voice dry and calm, his biceps bulging beside his head, highlighting his proud posture, even in this position. “I made you strong. I made you resilient. I made you one of us. Now you take no one’s bullshit—not even mine. All in the span of one year. By the time I was done, you no longer needed the black hair and Goth bullshit. Everyone feared and respected you. I took away from my power and gave it to you, because every time you disrespected me, challenged me, it weakened me. I worked hard so you’d stand up for yourself. I saved you, Astalis, and not for the first time.”

There was a beat of silence.

What did he mean? When else had he saved me?

I knew he actually believed his backward logic, that every time he was cruel or offhand with me, he excused it by thinking he was toughening me up.

I smiled. “Well, Master, I think you did too good a job. Turns out I, too, am partial to public sex displays.”

“We weren’t together then,” he snapped before I’d managed to pronounce the last vowel.

He was right. We weren’t. But I’d still felt like he belonged to me no less than he’d claimed I belonged to him.

“We aren’t together now,” I retorted.

He laughed, like this was all a big joke. “Get real.”

“Now’s not the time to get real. Now’s the time to get even.”

With that, I grabbed Pope’s face and brought it to mine. Our breaths mingled, sweet and warm. His arm circled my waist, his fingers fanning in mock possessiveness over my lower back. His other arm snaked between us, cupping my face.

“No,” Vaughn growled from the bed, his pitch feral.

Pope put his lips to mine, kissing me softly, slipping his tongue into my mouth at an angle Vaughn could see.

Truly, the hottest thing about our kiss was knowing he was watching—not that Pope wasn’t a good kisser, but I barely felt his presence in the room. Revenge was sweet and pungent, and it made me throb between my legs.

I’d nearly died watching Arabella service Vaughn. But I couldn’t deny, a part of it had turned me on, too.

“Don’t you dare fucking take this where I think you’re about to, Good Girl. I will kill your little prodigy friend and won’t even bother to leave ashes for his family to scatter around his hometown of Cuntville.”

It broke my heart that until this day, Vaughn hadn’t experienced true, raw jealousy. He thought he hated me, but he couldn’t let me go. He always sought me out. It drove him crazy when I was away, and annoyed the hell out of him when I was too close. His feelings toward me had a word, and I was going to teach him. Even if it was the last thing I did.

Even if I could never love him back.

My kiss with Raff deepened, and as it did, I rolled my black nightgown up so my matching lacy knickers were exposed. I normally went for the elastic, cotton ones—the comfy option—but I wanted to taunt Vaughn. I heard the handcuffs clinking against the metal bars, the scrape of the bed moving an inch toward us, then another inch. I smiled into my kiss with Raff.

“I’m going to smoke this bitch to the goddamn ground. You know I will,” Vaughn hissed, his eyes two slits of ice. “Take a step back right now, and I’ll end this with two shiners and a warning. Let me save you from yourself, Pope, because right now? You’re fucking yourself more than you’re about to do her.”

Raff pulled away from me momentarily, fingering my face with a tender smile. He was a good friend for helping me with this. He had no skin in this game, other than helping me reclaim my pride and power in this twisted power struggle Vaughn had started.

“But Spencer, mate, she is so bloody sweet.”

Pope began to lower himself down my body, kissing a path between my breasts and along my stomach through my nightgown.

“That’s enough,” Vaughn snarled. “Lenora, you made your point. I haven’t received a public blow job in months. Unchain me.”

I ignored him. I knew that in all probability, Vaughn had been completely celibate since arriving at Carlisle Castle, save for our encounters. But in my mind, he was the one who’d brought disaster to my doorstep. Arabella was here because of him.

Plus, there was a slightly deranged theory I’d been nursing privately since I was a kid—one that believed we’d had a special bond, a carnal connection, since that moment behind the fountain, sharing a stupid, half-melted chocolate bar under the pounding sun.

And Vaughn had let dozens of girls suck him off him since then.

He’d betrayed me every time he’d let someone else touch him after the day he’d threatened to kiss me, after showing me the first traces of his humanity, after we looked at each other and knew—knew—anyone else was a terrible mistake. We weren’t coincidence. We were fate. And our bodies—though not our souls—belonged to each other. But he’d broken the pact. Numerous times.

Vaughn wasn’t the only one allowed to make mistakes.

If we were going to need each other’s forgiveness, I had to sin, too.

He’d wronged me many times. I’d wronged him never. Perhaps until now.

He needed to forgive, too.

This was me helping us go back to being screwmates.

I felt the breeze of cold air on my swollen clit as Pope pulled my knickers down. I kicked them aside, and they hit the wall. Raff lowered his face between my legs and took a long, greedy breath.

“Hmm,” he shuddered into me.

Vaughn regarded the scene wordlessly. I looked up from Raff’s mane of wild, blond curls and watched Vaughn watching us. He’d stopped resisting the handcuffs. He simply watched, his jaw ticking.

“What can I say to make you stop?” he growled.

Bargaining.The god who descended to Earth and tried to strike a deal with a mortal.

“What is it that you want, Lenora? Exclusivity? Dinner dates? Your precious internship back?”

“An apology,” I said, unsmiling.

Pope held back. His mouth was so close to my groin I could practically feel it on me.

“For starters,” I added.

“I apologize.” Vaughn spat the word like it was poisonous, taking a few seconds to get used to its taste.

“What for?” I asked conversationally.

“For letting randoms give me head both when you were an ocean away, and a few feet from me. I apologize for bringing Arabella here. I thought she’d be just another pawn in our game. I had no idea she’d fuck your dad. What else?”

I stroked my chin, pretending his words didn’t slice something deep inside me. “No more treating me like I’m your property. We both know I’m your equal.”

“Fine,” he quipped, seeming eager to move on with the plan. “Now kick his fucking face in before I do it from across the room.”

I shook my head slowly, going in for the kill. He couldn’t give me his internship, I knew that, but everything else I’d asked for was already given. That’s why he kept coming back. He couldn’t deny me.

I needed something else. Something big.

“I want to see your secret sculpture,” I added. “Your mysterious art.”

Vaughn closed his eyes, letting out a ragged breath. It looked like he’d been punched in the face. Too far, I thought.

“Anything else, Len,” he grumbled quietly. “Anything.”

“No.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, looking pained, his chest rising and falling. When he opened them again, his expression was dead and hollow. He truly was a black swan.

“Make it quick,” he said, resigned.

“Keep your eyes open, Clockwork Orange style.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that a promise?” I taunted.

“After tonight? You’ll be lucky if I spit in your direction, Astalis.”

And just like that, Raff’s mouth disappeared between my legs. I threw my head back, shocked by the hot, wet sensation of his tongue as it pried my pussy open, slipping in with confident expertise. He made a moaning sound as he grabbed both my bum cheeks. I propped myself against the table, looking down as he feasted on me.

A whimper escaped my mouth when Pope ran his tongue in circles all the way from the base of my sex to my clit, flicking it over and over again. I trembled, my nipples puckering, my breasts swollen, sensitive, and sore with need. I grabbed one of my tits and squeezed, imagining it was Vaughn, wondering if he would ever do something like this—give without taking.

“Oh, God,” I muttered.

“An angry one,” Vaughn’s metallic voice hissed from afar. “Just remember, it’s me who’s doing this to you, not him. We both know that. That’s who you’re imagining underneath you, Len. Me. Past. Present. Future. It will always be me.”

I wrapped one thigh around Pope’s shoulder, running my fingers through his silky hair. The pleasure built inside me like a hurricane. Every inch of me burned with lust.

“Just like you’ve sucked me off thousands of times.” He continued talking, hijacking this moment with Pope. “From the first blow job till the last, it was you I saw.”

Pope sucked on my lips, hoovering them into his mouth, darting his tongue out and massaging my clit.

“Since that day behind the fountain, we’ve wanted to get our rocks off. We just didn’t know how to name it. Now we do.”

I exploded with a near-violent orgasm, seeing stars, rocking my body back and forth, my groin chasing Pope’s lips, but it was Vaughn’s name in my throat. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through me. I looked down to see my best friend smiling devilishly at me, his lips swollen and glistening with my cum.

“Delicious.” He swiped his thumb inside me one last time, gathering more of my juices with his eyes still on mine.

Pope was beautiful like a poem. You could read his face every day and still find something new to admire. One day, someone was going to snatch this talented, gorgeous man, and she was going to be so lucky. Luckier than I would ever be, because I was undeniably fixated on Vaughn, the most complicated guy in history.

I looked up at Spencer. He was quiet, his gaze holding mine. I didn’t expect an extravagant show of emotion, but his lack of response was high on the Creep-O-Meter.

“Pope, get the fuck out,” he clipped.

Pope sent me a questioning look as he stood, and I nodded, rising on my toes and kissing his lips softly. He flicked my ear, turned around, and walked to the door. There he halted, tapping the doorframe, his back still to us.

“I’m not scared of you, Spencer, and your little I’ll-fuck-you-up speeches do nothing to interrupt my sleep at night. But just for the sake of full disclosure, I have no romantic interest in your girl. She’s my friend. Which means I will always have her back. Which also means that if you make her happy, I’ll have no problem with you. But if you hurt her…” he trailed off, shaking his head on a chuckle. “Your big mouth and rich daddy won’t be able to save you from what I’ll do. ’Night, kiddos.” He shut the door behind him.

Vaughn stared at me, so furious his smooth skin was lined with wrinkles around his pinched eyebrows and twisted mouth.

“Take the handcuffs off,” he ordered.

I grabbed the keys from my nightstand and released him, forced to lean against him as I did. I could still feel the dull, pulsing heat of Rafferty’s mouth on my pussy, and it made me shudder above Vaughn, who clenched his tense jaw to the point of snapping, not even daring to breathe in my direction. As soon as I released him, he stood up, tightening his bootlaces.

He was leaving.

I pretended not to care, throwing myself on the mattress and picking up the fantasy book on my nightstand, taking out the bookmark where I’d left off. If he wanted to be a hypocritical bastard, he very well could, but not with me.

I thought he was going to walk out the door and come back once he’d cooled down, which would be in approximately a decade, judging by his mood. Instead, he launched toward the corner of my room, grabbed the drafting table, and smashed it against the wall, breaking it in half. Next came Pope’s shirt, which was still lying on the floor. He opened a window and threw it out, proceeding to turn to the wall and slam his fist against it. I heard the crack of bones and darted up, swallowing a yelp.

His hand.

“What are you doing?” I cried. “You’re going to hurt yourself. You’re not going to be able to work.”

Ignoring me, he walked toward the beige cloth, his hand dripping blood across my floor. He picked up the cloth and threw it aside, exposing my biggest weakness.

The sculpture.

Ruined. Destroyed. Yet somehow, still perfect in its own way.

He stood in front of it, tipping his chin up, whistling low, finally regaining some of his self-control.

“Someone caught feelings and decided to throw a fucking fit,” he bit out, not an ounce of pleasure in his tenor.

I ran to him, grabbing the cloth from the floor and shoving it back over the assemblage.

“You had no right.” I pushed his chest.

“Right?” He laughed bitterly in my face, pushing me back.

It was the first time Vaughn had been physical with me in a way that wasn’t consensual or warranted, the first time I’d ever heard him raise his voice. “There’s some dudebro walking around these halls with pussy breath and a shiny-ass mouth because you used his face as a seat, and you talk to me about rights? You’re fucking insane.” He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten involved with someone quite so deranged.

I hitched up a shoulder. “Speaking of double standards, how’s Arabella doing? Seen her recently? You know, not from above?”

Was she exclusive with my father? Christ, I didn’t even want to think about the details.

Vaughn moved his hand from his cheekbone to his chin, rubbing his skin with frustration. He smeared blood from his injured knuckles all over his face. “How the fuck should I know? I’ve exchanged six words with her my entire life, including the trip to Indiana. You’re seeing this guy every single day. Did you have a good practice all those nights?”

I cocked my head, blinking. “How did you know he was here every night?”

His cheeks turned scarlet, lush and youthful. He looked sideways, scowling. “This was a mistake.”

“Remedy that, then. Leave.”

He turned toward the door, putting knots in my chest.

Don’t listen to me. Don’t leave.

He walked, stopped, then spun back on his heel.

“I can’t,” he growled, standing perfectly still, like the statues he made. “God fucking dammit, I can’t leave!”

“You sound like an abused wife.” I fought a smile.

“I feel like one.” He let out a long-suffering sigh. “This thing between us…” He motioned with his hand. “It’s like a failed organ transplant. My body is rejecting whatever it is I’m feeling. It’s foreign and strange in every one of my cells. But it’s there. It’s like cancer, and it’s spreading. I want to purge it out. I want to purge you out, Lenora. You’re a distraction I don’t need.”

“Am I no longer a good girl?” I felt hysteria bubbling up my throat, but stayed calm. I didn’t know whether I wanted to keep the title or not. It meant something to him, which filled me with unexplained pride, but it was also a degrading pet name of sorts.

“You will always be Good Girl.”

“Even after this peep show?” I wiggled my brows, trying to lighten the mood.

He groaned, a human sound from a man much more than a human. “You were never Good Girl because you are good. You’re Good Girl because you’re too good for me, and we’d both be wise to remember that.”

“What makes you think so?” I asked, surprised. He didn’t seem to lack confidence. I stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think many people would agree with that assessment. You have more talent and money, more prospects and looks.”

“And issues and anger-management problems and enemies. The things I’m capable of…” He took a step away from me, letting my hand drop between us. “You shouldn’t be with someone who can do what I’m about to.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, and still, somehow, I knew he was not exaggerating. I’d always had this feeling Vaughn was going to kill someone someday. It had gone through my head the night he came to seek me out after I saw what I saw. I’d wondered if he’d slit my throat.

“I can take care of myself.”

“We have a past and a present, Len. No future.”

“I never asked for a future,” I said, sounding a lot more confident than I felt.

“Goddamn shame.” He tsked.

I didn’t understand what he wanted from me. Sometimes it felt like he was after everything, and sometimes it felt like he wanted nothing at all.

There was a beat of silence.

“Then don’t do it,” I whispered. “Be good enough for me.”

What am I asking?my mind screamed. I don’t even want a relationship.

But this had nothing to do with me. I had a feeling Vaughn was not going to recover from whatever he was about to do.

He shook his head. “I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because I swore it to myself.”

“Break your promise,” I snapped.

He took a step toward me. The never-ending tango of Vaughn Spencer and Lenora Astalis. He cupped my cheek, and I didn’t know why, but it felt a lot like a breakup.

“If we keep this going, and something happens, goodbye would be too much to take. I already want to rip the world apart when someone else touches you.”

“Every painful goodbye starts with a wonderful hello.” I smiled sadly, leaning into his palm, feeling my eyes bright and vivid with unshed tears.

His chest caved, and he took a ragged breath, jerking me to his body. “I don’t know what to do with wonderful things. I always stayed away from them. You kill me, Astalis.”

You killed me when I was twelve. The part that was supposed to like other boys? You took it with you.

I looked up to him, so unbelievably mad that he was making me feel things I had no business feeling, and whispered, “Then die.”

He grabbed the back of my head, twisted his fingers into my hair, and pulled me into an open-mouthed, punishing kiss—scalded by bitter, hot jealousy. His menacing hiss when our tongues touched for the first time told me he wasn’t ready to forgive my little stunt with Pope.

“Mine.” He grabbed my jaw, kissing me so deeply I thought I was going to choke.

He was staking his claim and marking me, not making either of us feel particularly good. He backed me against the wall, and when I was pressed to the cold concrete, he tugged at the cloth on the statue again, angling my face and forcing me to look at it.

“See this?”

I swallowed wordlessly.

“This hurts,” he said angrily.

Pain. I’d doubted he was able to experience the feeling until now, much less confess it.

“Why?”

“Because you’re better than me. And it’s fucking killing me.”

My heart soared, butterflies taking flight around it in circular motions. He’d never acknowledged my talent before.

“What’d you use?” He released my jaw.

“Tin cans,” I breathed as he sneaked his hand between my thighs, stroking the area around my pussy, though not giving me the satisfaction of plunging in.

But I knew he would. I knew he’d erase Pope from my DNA before he left here, no matter what.

“What happened to the rest of me?” he asked.

“Destroyed.”

“How fucking fitting.” His fingers found my walls, and suddenly, I was wet and aching again.

He slapped my pussy once when I whimpered, then got back to fingering me with expertise that surprised me, considering his lack of practice. I clenched around his fingers, biting down on my lower lip, knowing he didn’t want me to come—he wanted to mark me.

He fingered me slow and deep, curling his fingers when he reached a sensitive spot and rubbing it teasingly. My nipples hardened as I watched his dead, cold expression in awe. My legs were weak, my knees shaking, but I knew he wouldn’t let me get comfortable.

“Why won’t you show anyone your statue?” I asked, the lust thick in my voice. “Is it not going well?”

He smirked at me like I was a silly, silly girl. But he couldn’t fool me anymore. I’d gotten under his skin and found something wonderful. His blood was red, just like mine.

And hot.

And so very, terribly human.

“Why, then?” I pressed.

“Because,” he said, leaving me hanging.

His eyes roamed my face. They promised trouble. I didn’t know if I could take more than we were currently dealing with.

“I’m going to fuck you.” He fingered me faster. I moaned, lolling my head against the wall. “Fuck you before he does. Fuck you so you’ll always remember I was the first. Fuck you just like you’ve fucked me, over and over again, since I was thirteen.”

I came hard around his fingers, whimpering with ecstasy. It felt different than it had with Pope. The stakes were higher. I cared. I cared what he thought when he looked at my face as I came. I hoped he liked the scent of my pussy. I wanted to please him, and that bothered me.

Instead of licking his fingers, like Rafferty had, Vaughn wiped them on my cheek, still looking at me with disdain.

“For the record,” he said, just when I was about to tell him to bugger off, I wasn’t going to sleep with someone who treated me the way he had, no matter how much I wanted to. “I didn’t tell you about Arabella and your father because I didn’t get the chance. Although I can’t promise I would have, for sure. Thrusting oneself into drama is more your sister’s thing. But it wasn’t some elaborate scheme against your ass. As for your birthday gift, my sweet…” He leaned into my face, brushing the fingers he’d used to pleasure me across my lips with a smirk. “Figure it out. You’re a big girl. Tomorrow. Seven p.m. at the cul-de-sac.”

He left without another word.