Angry God by L.J. Shen

My sister and I were having very different American high school experiences, and that put an invisible barrier between us.

Poppy was head-over-heels in lust with her boyfriend, quarterback superstar Knight Cole. Knight was summer—golden, promising, and reckless, always burning on the edge of something. He led the pack, so she had a temporary seat on the throne next to the king.

Which, I guess, made me the jester. I had the right to spend the time in the cool-kid kingdom’s court, but only as a source of entertainment.

Poppy never did anything mean to me, but she was too obsessed with fitting in to stop, or even recognize, when I’d been taunted.

For the most part, it didn’t matter, anyway. A snarky comment here, a Drusilla remark there. I could take it. It toughened me up, and a part of me began to feel elated, like I was above all the teenage bullshit.

The main offenders were Arabella and Alice.

Alice had a platinum pixie haircut, hazel eyes, and huge implants Arabella liked to refer to as “so very nineties.” Arabella was tan, with cyan blue eyes and long, coal black hair that dangled by the edge of her bum.

They both hated me.

Come to think of it, everyone hated me.

My first semester as a senior at All Saints High proved to be the disaster I’d anticipated it to be. I’d spent most of my childhood and adolescence running with ghosts and chasing demons at Carlisle Prep. I had my best friend Rafferty Pope and other kids to play with.

In England, I’d always felt welcome and cherished.

Not so, here in California.

The black camouflage I’d adapted to shoo Vaughn away and show him I was not scared made people call me a freak and an outcast. No one but Poppy publicly acknowledged me, unless it was to take a dig. Girls detested me for the way I dressed, the fact that I was always cradling a thick book in my hand, and that I answered Vaughn, Hunter, and Knight when they taunted me. Knight and Hunter as banter, Vaughn more viciously.

They called me trash and weirdo for standing up for myself.

Even though the first few weeks had brought with them mildly interested guys of the alternative and Goth variety, their attention died down once they realized Vaughn Spencer found me repulsive.

Which was literally the word he’d used.

Repulsive.

It had happened in the cafeteria some weeks into the clusterfuck of my American high school experience. Normally I picked a bench and ate by myself with a book, but this time, Poppy had insisted I hang out with her.

She did that sometimes—had a spurt of guilt and made me hang out with her mates. And I, driven by the same guilt as we grew apart, obliged.

I had been sitting with her and her friends Hunter, Arabella, and Stacee—who did their best to ignore me—when Vaughn strolled in and took a seat right between Poppy and Knight, directly in front of me.

Plastic utensils fell on trays with soft thuds and people whispered animatedly. Vaughn never came to the cafeteria. I’d heard all about his legendary antics. We mortals weren’t good enough to keep him company, if you didn’t count him letting a select cluster of girls suck his penis when he was feeling generous.

Pretending I hadn’t noticed him, I flipped through a copy of The Night Circus, taking a bite of my pizza. I was the only student in the entire cafeteria to buy a slice of greasy pizza. In Todos Santos, people treated carbs as though they were war criminals and sugar like it was poison. I was all harsh lines to begin with, with very few hints of curve, so I didn’t quite care about losing my figure. Fine-looking things required maintenance, and I lacked the desire to be another pretty face.

I didn’t understand the obsession with beauty. We all get old. We all get wrinkles. Life is short. Eat that pizza. Drink that wine. Shut down that bully eejit who tortures you.

Words of wisdom you need to tell yourself, Lenny.

“Vaughn! Why aren’t you eating?” my sister purred, fawning over Satan himself.

I hadn’t confided in her about his visit to our house the other day. She was the exact opposite of me. If Mum’s death made me an angry, unapologetic teen, Poppy made it a point to become the nicest, most agreeable Mary Sue alive—as if being perfect and sweet would prevent people from leaving. From dying.

Yeah, once upon a time I’d been a good girl. It had earned me an arch enemy. I should have bitten and kicked him when I had the chance, not let him set the tone of our dysfunctional relationship.

“Here, take my Caesar salad. I’m so full from that green shake I had this morning.” Poppy slid her tray toward him.

Even as I flipped a page and tried to concentrate on the book, I could tell he was looking at me. I didn’t get him. He’d come to my house—broke into it—and threatened me not to share his secret. I’d obliged without resistance. Even though I’d played it cool, I’d been mortified by him watching me stark naked. I hadn’t spoken to a soul at All Saints High. Not about his secret, not about our history, and not at all.

He’d challenged me to a war I didn’t want, but I wasn’t going to avoid it at any cost.

Vaughn didn’t answer Poppy. And Knight, who had the good sense not to bully me since he wanted to get into my sister’s knickers, elbowed his ribs with a frown.

“Say thank you, Lord McCuntson. Poppy was being nice.”

“I’m not hungry,” he said with his well-practiced icy boredom.

My stomach twisted into deadly knots. I could feel the chill of his pale, cerulean eyes wherever they landed on me, and I suppressed the violent shivers prickling my skin.

“How come?” Arabella drawled seductively, not reading the room.

“I find certain things unappealing to a point of revulsion.”

I saw his gaze from the corner of my eye, skating over my lips. He dug at the knee-hole in his black skinny jeans. His knee was slightly tan, with golden hair—different than the sickly, white-blue he’d been as a child. Smooth and muscular and unfairly perfect.

That was the tragic thing about Vaughn Spencer. He was perfect.

The cold shock of his beauty knocked the breath out of you like a supernova. With ruby, bee-stung lips and wild blue eyes, framed by thick, masculine eyebrows and cheekbones right out of the comic books.

He was gorgeous, and I was not.

He was popular, and I was an outcast.

He was everything, and I was…

Heat rose up my neck, but I kept my eyes trained on the same line of the same page I’d started before he approached the table. I thought about something I’d read not too long ago about how the world breaks everyone, but their broken places end up being stronger as a result. Ernest Hemingway said that, and I hoped it was true.

I ignored it when the football team chuckled and bumped shoulders, pointing at me. Poppy glared at Vaughn, openmouthed, furious, but too ladylike to make a scene.

“Vaughn finds life repulsive. Don’t take it personally.” Knight threw a French fry at Spencer, laughing to lighten the mood.

I could feel Arabella’s eyes on me—assessing, taunting, waiting. She never could look at me without turning red. Sometimes she looked at Poppy the same way. I knew how territorial she was about Knight, Vaughn, and Hunter—the third amigo. She regarded them like some impossible prize. Them giving me attention rattled something deep inside her.

“Yeah. You’re not repulsive in the slightest. I would fuck you, and not even just anal. I would gladly look at your face as I plunge into you.” Hunter snagged my can of Diet Coke and chugged it empty in one go.

If Knight was a golden boy and Vaughn was a bad boy, Hunter was a mix of the two, with hair a rich hue of wheat and a cunning smile even his mother couldn’t trust.

“I would look into your eyes while eating you like a Del Taco on a road trip. Nasty, but worth it,” one of the jocks exclaimed, shooting me a wink.

“I raise you looking into her eyes and add an Atticus quote while I wreck her uterus. But that’s gonna cost you a cream pie,” a third tsksed in my direction, dipping his index and middle fingers into a cupcake on his tray suggestively.

Vaughn sat back, an amused smirk on his face.

I yawned, flipping another page without processing any of the text. Vaughn was pushing it. I was honoring my side of the deal between us and keeping my mouth shut, yet he deliberately antagonized me.

None of it made sense. Vaughn wasn’t daft. He was cruel when messed with, but if you kept your distance, you were safe.

Why wasn’t I safe?

“Thanks for the riveting mental images, dipshits.” Vaughn stood up, glancing around. “Where’s Alice Hamlin? I could use a blowie right now.”

Jesus Christ.

“She’s with her new boyfriend.” Arabella tossed her hair, sucking her green shake’s straw unnecessarily hard.

“Good. He can watch,” Vaughn clipped, pivoting and making a beeline to the doors. I’d almost taken a relieved breath—almost—when he paused and turned around, as if forgetting something.

“Lenora.”

My name felt like whiplash curling on his tongue. Poppy winced. I had no choice but to look up. I put a little smile on my black-hued lips, just to make sure he knew I wasn’t impressed.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” He cocked his head, another one of his patronizing smirks tossed my way.

“Duh, unless Lucifer was feeling desperate…” Arabella huffed, pretending to examine her hot pink nails.

More laughter boomed across the cafeteria.

“That’s enough,” Knight hissed, pushing his tray until it bumped against a smug jock’s abs.

His swift mood change made me think Vaughn had hit a sensitive nerve. As if the Knight Cole even knew what virginity meant. He probably thought a virgin was a Virginia-state resident.

“It’s fine, Knight. I appreciate you coming to my rescue, but I don’t need protection from toothless, ball-less dogs who bark, but can’t bite for shit,” I said serenely, making a point of tucking a bookmark between the pages of my book.

“Whoa…” The guys at the table balled their fists, howling.

I turned to Hunter and the jocks and swept a bored look over their athletic bodies.

“Also, I appreciate the hospitality, but I’m rather adamant on sleeping with men, not immature twats who are only good for drinking, partying, and burning their parents’ hard-earned cash, desperate to forget that high school is the peak of their lives. Which says something, because you’re at an age when not wanking for a day seems like a herculean accomplishment.”

Silence fell across the table. All eyes tried to penetrate the mask of indifference I was clinging to with bloodied fingernails.

Were they expecting me to cry? Cower? Run away?

To ask them why they did this?

Stifling another fake yawn, I licked my finger and flipped a page in my book, taking the bookmark out. My heart searched for an escape route, thrashing against my ribcage. One thing I knew about men like Vaughn Spencer—they either broke you or you broke them. There was no middle ground.

But I wasn’t going to be the one picking up the pieces when we were done with each other.

“You should come and see how it’s done.” Vaughn ignored my comeback, his iron voice slicing the air between us. “Prep you for next year, Good Girl.”

I looked up, despite my best intentions.

“When you assist me, silly. I’m sure your father thinks it’s a great idea.”

No, he doesn’t.

But when was the last time I’d spoken to Papa about my art? About me? He was too busy, and I was too shy to demand his attention. He could think that. He could.

“Never.”

“Never is a very long time,” Vaughn mused, his voice sweet and faraway all of a sudden. “Pride comes before the fall.”

“Don’t be so sure I’ll be the one doing the falling.”

“Considering you can barely fucking walk without tripping over your own feet, I’m hardy shaking.”

“Course not, Vaughn. The only things that scare you are feelings and little girls who walk into the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I’d been busting my bum for years for this internship. I wasn’t going back to Carlisle Castle as an assistant to an intern. I was going to be the intern. Assisting a star intern was prestigious, and I’d have loved the opportunity, but not if the intern was Vaughn.

Never the ocean-eyed god.

I felt my nostrils flare as I stared back at him. I hated him with abandon, with passion that seared through my veins. Fury could be either a weapon or a liability, but in my case, it was both.

There was nothing diabolical about him. No. The devil was red, hot, expressive, and desolate. Vaughn was the Night King—cold, blue, dead, and calculating. You couldn’t get to him, no matter how hard you tried.

I thought wearing black clothes, eyeliner, and making up elaborate stories about my summer in Brazil for fellow students who didn’t care would show him how much I’d changed. But he kept challenging every syllable to come out of my mouth.

It was time to fight back.

“You know what? I think a lesson in oral is an excellent idea. And who could teach it better than the expert?” I shot to my feet, pushing my tray aside.

I had actually been enjoying my pizza before he arrived, but I wasn’t hungry anymore. I also knew my calling him an expert was getting dangerously close to the truth about what had happened in the darkroom that day.

“Shall I bring a notebook to take pointers? Perhaps an iPad?” I smiled, blinking angelically at him.

“Just your smart ass.”

If Vaughn was confused and taken aback, he didn’t show it. Poppy, however, shot up in an instant.

“Lenny!” She slapped her heart. “Why would you ever—”

“Go back to pretending you have a personality, soul, or prospects that do not include marrying a rich, fat asshole who’s going to cheat on you with his secretary and give you ugly-ass kids, Daffodil,” Vaughn barked at my sister, his icicle eyes still holding mine. “This is between me and your sister.”

“It’s Poppy!” she exclaimed, Knight tugging her by the hem of her skirt to sit back down.

“Because that was the entire fucking problem with what I just told you.” Vaughn’s mouth twitched in menace.

I grabbed my Sprayground shark backpack and followed Vaughn out of the cafeteria, acutely aware that all eyes were pointed at our backs as we exited through the double doors.

Knight’s voice rang behind me, gruff, low, and lazy. “Y’all gonna slow-dance to a Billy Joel song? If so, don’t forget to leave room for Jesus. And Moses. And Muhammad. And also Post Malone, because hey, he’s kind of a religion now, too.”

As we filed into the buzzing hallway, I couldn’t help but notice how tall Vaughn had become. Whether he ate at school or not, the boy ate, all right. He filled his clothes nicely. He wasn’t beefy by any stretch of the imagination, but muscular, with sinewy dexterity and the grace of an archer. In fact, there was nothing boyish about him anymore. He was all man, and it was ironic that he reminded me so much of the iconic, imperial statues he carved.

“What’s good, Good Girl? I mean, other than your untouched hymen,” he asked, gliding along the hall, looking for Alice.

I found it hard to believe he’d be able to rip her from her boyfriend’s arms, but stranger things had happened where Vaughn Spencer was concerned. Plus, I knew Alice. She fancied Vaughn for all his eccentric, tyrannical behavior.

“Spare me the bullshit, Vaughn. You hate me.”

“Hate you?” he mused in Thinker pose, fist curled under his square chin. “No, that requires commitment. I find you embarrassingly disposable. Are you going to chicken out on me, Astalis?”

“No,” I clipped. “You seem eager to show everyone your willy. You are aware fifty percent of the world population is male, right? Your cock is not a national treasure.”

“Don’t slam it before you’ve tasted it.” His jaw twitched, and he seemed done with the conversation.

I’d hit a nerve. Why was Vaughn so fond of having an audience when he was intimate with girls?

And while we were on the subject—why did he choose the least intimate way to be intimate with girls? One that didn’t require him to touch, to caress, to reciprocate?

A few seconds of silence passed before he rounded a corner and snapped his fingers, motioning for me to follow him.

Alice.

“You really think a girl who is with someone is going to suck you off? On school grounds? While people are watching?” I couldn’t help but blurt.

“Yes.”

“Is this a game to you?”

“If it was, I’d be dealing you the fucking cards. Now shut up.”

I’d heard all about Vaughn and public blow jobs. There wasn’t one person in this school—other than me—who hadn’t seen the shape and size of his (allegedly impressive) penis disappearing down a girl’s throat. Sometimes there were two of them, licking and taking turns. People said it was because he was handsome, unconventional, and the richest boy in town, that every girl secretly wanted to marry into the Spencer family, who were royalty by name, assets, and reputation. They were old money—railroads, prime realty, and hedge fund companies—and one of America’s top twenty-five richest families.

His ancestors had built this town, and he was going to inherit most of it.

But I thought there were other reasons girls gave Vaughn what he wanted.

Essentially, deep down, we all liked to be sexually degraded, just a bit. The taboo aspect, the helplessness, the part where you’re at the complete mercy of someone else.

We’re all a little sadomasochistic.

Especially when young.

And powerful.

And beautiful.

And rich.

The numbness of a charmed life was easily taken away by shame, something Vaughn distributed in spades. He liked humiliating people. A lot.

Vaughn stopped in front of a set of black and navy lockers. Alice was wearing a sweetheart-neckline flowery dress with puffy sleeves and a slit across the side. The guy next to her was a bit on the short side, and he looked moneyed to death, with an expensive haircut and a smart, navy blazer. He had kind, brown eyes and a quirky vibe.

“Alice,” Vaughn hissed, ignoring the guy.

“Oh, hey Spence.” She blew a lock of her short hair away from her eyes, her pink lips curling in delight.

I wanted to throw up when she leaned forward to give him a peck on the cheek, shaking her boyfriend’s arm from her waist.

“I can fit in a quick blow job in the next ten minutes. Rookie here needs to take pointers.” Vaughn threw a thumb behind him, toward me.

Alice’s gaze collided with mine, and her eyes widened for a fraction of a second.

You and me both, girl.

“Ummm…” She glanced at the guy next to her, biting on the side of her fingernail.

His eyes were widening slowly, shock seeping into his system. She was going to ditch him. The worst part about it, she wasn’t even considering telling Vaughn to bugger off. Her eyes said I’m sorry, not Would you mind?

“Jason…” she started.

I wanted to punch her on his behalf, bile rising in my throat like an overflowing saucepan. He stared at her, agony dripping from his expression, wordlessly pleading with her not to finish the sentence.

“Practice makes perfect, though, right?” I interjected with a chirp, taking a step forward. “And since Alice is oh so kind as to demonstrate her flawless oral-giving technique on Vaughn, would you mind being my guinea pig, Jason?” I unzipped my leather jacket, shrugging out of it and flinging it over my shoulder. I offered him my hand for a shake.

It was perfect, really—the look of horror on Alice’s face when Jason threw a look at Vaughn, whose jaw was ticking, and took my hand, shaking it limply.

“Don’t worry. I’ll still be watching.” I patted Vaughn’s back, keeping my tone light as the four of us headed down the corridor to God knows where. “Although, I may have a few tricks up my sleeve.” I winked.

Lies.

I’d never given a blow job before, and up until a minute ago, had no immediate plans to perform the act on anyone but Alexander Skarsgard, who, unfortunately, I had no real prospects of ever meeting. But Vaughn was pushing me, and Jason was trying hard not to cry, even though his humiliation was bloated and hanging in the air, like fog.

If I could recover some of Jason’s self-esteem, while shocking Vaughn into understanding that I was no pushover, maybe he’d finally back off.

But Vaughn didn’t look shocked at all. He looked…pissed. His jaw was ticking so hard I thought it might snap out of his mouth and bite my face off. He tugged at my sleeve, jerking me forward, forcing me to keep up with his pace, a few feet ahead of Jason and Alice.

“What the fuck are you trying to do? Prove a point?” He bared his teeth.

“What point would that be? That I have a mouth?” I smiled serenely, taking weird pleasure in knowing he was irritated. “Maybe I want to get some action, too.”

“With that fuckboy?” Vaughn snorted, his nostrils flaring. I matched his stride, desperate not to pant. “He wouldn’t know how to get you off with four dildos, a magic wand, a vibrator, and the entire football squad.”

I would’ve laughed if I weren’t so nervous about what we were about to do.

“Some like dark, tall, and handsome. I like fair, short, and…sane.”

Vaughn yanked a door open and shoved me inside wordlessly, with a force that said he was royally pissed. The room was dark, cluttered, and stuffy. It smelled of dust and cleaning products. The janitor’s room, I figured.

Enchanting.

Alice and Jason joined us, and Vaughn shut the door behind them. He flicked the light on. Still frowning, he started working his belt in angry, jerky movements.

“I can help you with that.” Alice licked her lips, waiting for his okay.

Jason eyed me warily, expecting directions.

What have I gotten myself into?

“Jason, come here.” I waved him over awkwardly, gathering my tar-dyed hair and dropping it over one shoulder. He shuffled toward me, bumping his knee on a broomstick on his way. Vaughn’s hawk eyes followed us as Alice continued unbuckling him. The sound of the metal clicking made my heart jolt.

Alice cupped Vaughn’s groin through his black briefs, but he was still looking at me.

“Lenora.” His voice held a threatening edge, cruel and cutting, like broken glass. I knew a warning when I heard one.

Ignoring him, my unstable fingers worked Jason’s buttoned trousers. Flashes of me in Carlisle Castle, shaking under Vaughn Spencer’s finger like a leaf, ran through the dark corridors of my brain. He thought I was such a naïve, weak girl.

If I had to suck a stranger off to show him I, too, had a dangerous edge, I’d make the sacrifice and deal with the psychological damage later.

Holding on to all that unchanneled hate would likely give me a heart attack, as it was.

Even though I hadn’t intended for it to happen, Jason’s trousers slid down, the fabric pooling around his ankles with a soft thud. He was in his briefs now, and already hard. I watched the bulge of his penis, plastered to his stomach through the fabric—like a leech, long and swollen and frightening.

Lenny, you daft cow, you really did it this time.

No part of me wanted to do this. The right course of action had to be informing the educational staff and my father that Vaughn had been bullying me. Not that he did exactly that. He hadn’t forced me to do anything, but he challenged my every step, and made sure I remembered I didn’t belong.

This wasn’t a movie, though. No one would find my actions heroic or acceptable if I came forward and complained. People were going to call me a snitch, turn against me, and seek me out, whereas now, most of them simply ignored me or called me names. All told, I had a little less than one year to endure here in California. I could suck it up.

“Lenora,” Vaughn quipped again, his princely voice sharp as a blade.

Swallowing, I put a tentative hand on Jason’s…member. It jumped. I jumped right along with it, letting out an involuntary yelp.

“Are you okay?” A frown knit Jason’s brows as he shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.

He was obviously doing this for the same reason I was. Retaliation. Alice was mad to dump him for Vaughn.

“All evidence points to that being the case,” I blabbed, releasing a nervous chuckle. “I’m grand, really. This is…lovely. I mean, not your penis.” Penises were not lovely, were they? “Not that I’m saying that your penis is not lovely. It’s just. Oh…never mind.”

“Yup. A virgin,” Vaughn said from beside me, victorious satisfaction laced in his voice.

He was laughing, just like he had when he’d caught my eyelids moving the night It happened. Lava boiled in the pit of my stomach, and with newly found rage, I dropped to my knees and looked at Vaughn.

Alice quickly mimicked my movements, like it was a competition, getting down on her knees and trying to yank at Vaughn’s black briefs. He snatched her hand and kept them in place, not letting her pull them down, his eyes on mine.

I curled my fingers around the edge of Jason’s briefs and pulled them down. I wasn’t going to admit my virginity here, in this room, for Vaughn to laugh at me for eternity.

Jason’s penis sprang out, purple and angry, just inches from my face. I sucked in a shocked breath and reminded myself about the ghosts in Carlisle Castle. If I could handle sleeping in a haunted place all alone in a room, surely I could handle a penis, and not even a disproportionately huge one.

“Len…” Vaughn’s voice trailed off. For the first time, he didn’t sound so darkly amused by me and my antics.

I grabbed Jason’s penis, my entire body shaking with anger and adrenaline. I wanted to do this, to piss Vaughn off beyond repair. To hurt him. To hurt me. I leaned forward, screwing my eyes shut and thinking good thoughts…

Home.

Far away from here.

Home.

Chips with vinegar and ice-cold cider.

Home.

Running wildly in the fields behind my house, letting the grass slap my ankles.

Home.

Working in the studio again.

Home.

Making beautiful things out of ugly things.

Home.

Kissing boys. The right boys. Boys who don’t make me feel like dying.

Home. Home. Home.

“Fuck!”

I felt myself jerked by the collar of my Metallica shirt to the other side of the room. Vaughn was now standing between me and Jason, as a buffer, while I was still on the floor. He pointed back at me, facing Jason.

“What is wrong with you, you pile of oxygen-wasting shit? You could see she didn’t want it.”

“Is this a joke? You just propositioned my girlfriend in front of me!” Jason shrieked, his face bright red and glistening with cold sweat.

“Your girlfriend is not a virgin,” Vaughn yelled.

“And that makes it cool for you to treat her like a cum-bag? Don’t spin this on me, Spencer. There’s only one twisted motherfucker in this room, and it’s the guy who just told my girl she should suck him off in front of his crush to make a point.”

Vaughn threw his head back and laughed while Jason tucked his half-mast penis back into his briefs, pulling up his trousers. With every second that he became more dressed, I felt my heartbeat calming down.

Vaughn mumbled the word crush like the idea was crazy. I was going to kick him in the bollocks. I even had a good angle from my spot on the floor.

“Get the fuck out of here and don’t come near her again. Tell your douchebag, debate-club friends to do the same. They get near Lenora Astalis, they die. Everyone knows she is my property. And take her with you.” Vaughn shoved Alice in Jason’s direction, his face expressionless, and pushed them both out. He slammed the door shut just as the bell rang. I scrambled to my feet, lifting my chin. It was musky and entirely too small in here. I wanted to get out.

Most of all, I didn’t want to look at Vaughn’s face after he’d seen me mortified by a human penis like it was a three-headed monster.

“Your property?” I growled. “Screw you, Spencer. I’d Airbnb myself to sex-diseased gang members before letting you cop a feel.”

“Shut up,” he clipped, turning his back to me again and bracing himself on the desk, clutching its edges with his fingers. He couldn’t even look at me, he was so angry.

Just as well. I was done with him, too.

“I have lab.” I started for the door.

He grabbed my wrist, turning me to him. I looked up, expecting him to appear smug. Triumphant. Happy. Vaughn received blow jobs from anyone with a pulse in this part of the state, and I’d never touched a penis in my life. Today just confirmed that.

How fantastic.

To my surprise, his face was devoid of any emotion—the usual cold, unreadable air I couldn’t crack. A blank canvas.

I guess he wasn’t so mocking when we were alone. Just quietly cruel.

“You skipped a grade,” he said.

What?

I scowled, hoping my cheeks and ears weren’t as red as they felt.

“When?” he pressed.

“Ninth to tenth.”

“Why?”

I’d lost my mother and shut the world down. I focused on studying and making art and staring at my bedroom ceiling, perched in my bed, listening to “Last Night I Dreamt” by The Smiths on loop, smoking nasty clove cigarette butts I’d found behind the rosebushes of Carlisle Prep.

I’d decided falling in love was pointless. We all die in the end. I’d even told Papa so—that I wanted to marry my art, like he did after Mum. Art never leaves. It never dies. It never ceases to wake up one morning.

Ars Longa, Vita Brevis.

Art is long, life is short. I tattooed it on my inner thigh the moment I turned seventeen—somewhere private and intimate, to remind myself all I wanted to give birth to was more beautiful, lifeless things.

“Some of us have goals that don’t include catching STDs and getting high. I work hard for what I want.”

“You stayed in England when your dad and sister moved here. Why?”

Because of you.

But that was only partly true. Going away felt like leaving Mum behind.

I said nothing.

“What made you come here? Why now?”

Papa had twisted my arm. Besides, loneliness had nibbled at my insides, like cancer. I’d put on war paint, hoping it’d be enough to keep Vaughn away. As it turned out, he took this as an invitation to battle and geared up for combat.

“What about boyfriends? Girlfriends? Social life?” His fingers around my wrist tightened into a bruising grip.

I wanted to cry. Not because he was hurting me, but because I liked it. I liked that he wasn’t treating me with kid gloves because I’d lost my mother. I liked that he was experienced and unfazed by sex. I liked that he was stunning, cold and promising like Christmas morning, and I had his undivided attention, even if it was the wrong kind of attention. And I was absolutely horrified to find out a part of me wanted him to bend my wrist harder until the dull pain became a sharp one.

I shook my head. My personal life was none of his business.

“No social life.” He tsked. “Fine. How’s the internship project going? What are you handing over?”

Why did he care? He’d just invited me to see someone sucking his cock. I looked the opposite way, at the wall, ignoring him. The less I responded, the more he’d grow tired and bored of me.

“I started working on mine yesterday,” he informed me. “The composition was a bitch to figure out.”

Was he making small talk?

“There’s no way you’ll be able to turn it in on time,” I said.

We had to hand in our submissions for the internship fairly soon. My project was done. I just had some fine-tuning to do.

He shrugged.

My heart began to race. This was good. This meant he was behind, and I had more of a chance to snag the spot.

I swallowed, trying to hide my glee.

“Don’t worry. Even quarter-finished, your father will choose my project over yours any day.”

I said nothing to that, so he continued.

“You know…” His cocky smirk reappeared just when I thought I was saved from it, and my blood boiled in my veins again, my eyes hooding with lust and irritation. “What I told you behind that fountain when we were kids still applies.”

He leaned against the desk, jerking me into his long, hard body. I was flush against him now, and he felt like granite against my soft limbs.

“I could kiss you, and you’d still let me. Because you’re still good, and I’m still bad. Nothing has changed. We’re still the same kids. Our game is just more dangerous now.”

And my mother is no longer alive to warn me off sugar or boys like you, I thought bitterly.

“I thought you weren’t dealing our cards just yet.” I arched an eyebrow.

“I changed my mind. One little game won’t hurt. Me, anyway.”

“Test it then,” I hissed. I wanted to make my first chip in him, so when he came to break me, I’d know where to aim.

He stared at me for a moment, his gaze dipping from mine to my lip ring. He leaned down, almost in slow motion, going in for the kiss. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. What he was doing. The boy who hated me brought his lips to mine. But there was nothing romantic about it.

It was a dare. A bet. Another challenge.

A power play.

When our lips touched, a shiver skated down my spine like a lit match. He traced his lips along the seam of mine patiently, his hot breath fanning my mouth. My heart accelerated to a dangerous speed, fireflies bursting forth as though escaping a Mason jar. Kissing him was like standing on the edge of a cliff. Nice view, but you knew it was deadly. Still, a stupid, irrational, dangerously alive part of you still wanted to hurl yourself down to meet your own demise.

I felt his lips on more than just my lips.

I felt them in my fingertips, all the way down to my toes.

I felt them when my skin broke into goosebumps.

He was actually doing it. Kissing me. The minute his mouth locked in on mine, I opened up and clamped my teeth around his lower lip, not stopping until I dug so hard, I could feel my teeth slamming against each other. Warm blood filled my mouth. He didn’t retreat, and I didn’t let go. I dug harder with my teeth as his hand moved between us, his thumb slipping into my lip piercing, tugging at it tauntingly, hurting me back.

He smiled into our kiss. He liked it, I realized. Me hurting him. Making him bleed.

It was only when he was about to yank the ring out of my lip that I finally pulled back. He dropped his hand completely.

So this was the game, I thought. I hurt him, and he hurt me back, but only as much as I could tolerate.

I ran my tongue along my teeth, savoring his warm, salty blood. When I looked at him again, he looked incredibly mortal all of a sudden. Boyish, even. With a red slash of blood smeared over his mouth, waiting for me to say something.

To acknowledge he wasn’t the only screwed-up person in the room.

“You were wrong. I didn’t want you to kiss me.” I licked the corner of my lips, mocking him.

He smirked, leaning down and capturing the tip of my ear with his teeth, whispering. “You wanted it, you enjoyed it, and next time I touch you, Good Girl, I’m not only going to dirty you up. I’m going to make you filthy, like me.”

Three things happened simultaneously from that day onward:

1. Vaughn began to monitor my interactions at school, especially with the lads. Guys stopped acknowledging my presence completely, in all grades and statuses, other than Knight and Hunter, who weren’t scared of their lunatic mate. Everyone else caught word that Lenny Astalis was Vaughn’s unwilling possession, and even though I had no interest in any of them, I still thought they were cowards for listening to Vaughn.

Of course, I was the worst type of property—the neglected kind. Vaughn went even farther out of his way to make sure people knew I was nothing to him. There was a brief rumor about my catching chlamydia from a Brazilian male model I’d allegedly had sex with over the summer, but it died quickly when Vaughn said no one was desperate enough to fuck me.

2. The girls, who all heard different versions of what happened in the janitor’s room (exclusively from Alice and Arabella) and knew now without a shadow of a doubt that Vaughn had taken an unlikely interest in me, went from disliking me to actively despising me. Poppy often had to skip some of her after-school activities just to see me home and make sure no one was following or harassing me. Arabella and Alice continued to call me Vampire Girl because of my attire and fondness for all things black, and they nagged me about Vaughn whenever they came to visit Poppy. Their questions were met with silence.

3. Vaughn began to show up at my house nearly every day to work on his mysterious project with my father.

Papa had taken a liking to Vaughn when he’d first witnessed his artistic greatness at summer session, and now that Vaughn had expressed interest in working closely with him, I guess Papa felt flattered. Even though Vaughn wasn’t aware of the fact that I was too starstruck to talk to my own father about my art, he knew he was hurting me by coming here. Every time I opened the door and he was on the other side with his sculpting equipment, he gave me a lopsided grin that reminded me he’d kissed me not too long ago, that no matter how disgusting I found him, I’d once had his blood in my mouth.

His bottom lip was still bruised from my bite.

“Given up on that internship yet?” he’d ask.

“In your dreams,” I’d answer, and he’d laugh good-naturedly and shake his head, brushing past me.