Bloody Princess by Helen Scott

28

Keats

Lyric missed the class she and I have together, which is unusual, and I hate the fact that the only reason I haven't skipped any of the class sessions is because I enjoy seeing her. When I asked Atlas about it, he told me that she hadn't been in their class either, which made me suspicious. That meant she'd missed at least two days of classes.

I've been trying to tell myself that I don't give a shit about where she is or what she's doing, but I know that's a lie. The girl still seems pretty naive, and I don't want anything bad to happen to her just because she doesn't understand how the world works. Or maybe she does? For some reason, I can't quite tell with her.

Most people, I get a read on right away. I know their secret desires, when they're lying, when they're on the edge, and when they just need a small push to make a bad decision. With Lyric it's different. It's like looking at a broken mirror. I see pieces of her, but not the whole thing, and what I do see is disjointed. She's a puzzle I want to solve, though she may not want me to.

I can't tell if she actually knows about our families and the darkness they hide behind their wealth and luxury or not. Yes, she's innocent, but is she that innocent? My gut says no, but all outward appearances say yes.

When I get back to the house, it's just in time for dinner, but I don't exactly feel like socializing. That doesn't stop my stomach from growling as soon as I walk in the door, though. Manny, our house chef, makes some of the most amazing stuff, and tonight I can smell the charred meat and the sweetness from whatever dessert he’s made. It has my feet carrying me toward the dining room before I can think better of it.

As soon as I walk through the big double wood doors, I regret my decision.

Jude is sitting at the head of the largest table and glaring at everyone. There's a bubble of empty seats around him that's two deep in each direction. Atlas is at the opposite end of the room, which isn't surprising, considering the tension between the two of them right now. I don't want to get in the middle of it, and without Thayer there as well, it's going to look like I'm choosing sides one way or another.

If I hadn't already made eye contact with Jude, this wouldn't be as bad—I could just walk back out—but now the fucker knows I'm here and is expecting me to sit and eat, which is going to force me to choose a side, unless I just sit in the middle. But that will make it obvious to everyone that there's something going on within our little group, and the rumor mill will start up.

Which will only make things worse.

I go down the line picking out some steak and some veg, along with some salad stuff, then walk to the table with my plate. The whole time my feet are moving, I'm wondering if I'm making a mistake, but if I don't do this, it will imply that I support the way Jude's been acting, and I don't. He's been a fucking idiot with his head stuck so far up his own ass, I'm surprised he can even think.

When I sit down next to Atlas, I can feel all the other brothers in the room watching us. They know I’ve just made a statement, even if I didn't say it aloud. I left Jude sitting alone in the icy little kingdom that he's created. If I'm honest, I have no idea how Miriam fucks him without getting frostbite.

"Are you sure about this?" Atlas asks without looking up from his plate.

I let my one plate hit the table with a thunk, almost jostling some of the food off it. "Yeah. I'm sure," I reply before sitting next to my friend. I spread out, taking up more room than is strictly necessary, but I don't particularly want any of our other brothers to get ideas about joining us. It's not that I don't want to be their friend, I mean, we are brothers after all, but I want to be able to keep them out of any of the conflict brewing between the four of us.

"He's going to be pissed, you know?" Atlas says, as though he's trying to warn me off.

"Fuck him."

"And you're okay with what happened?" Atlas asks cryptically.

Of course I know what he's referring to without him having to spell it out. He means his kiss with Lyric. Am I okay with that?

Not a chance in hell.

"Don't ask me a dumb question," I growl before shoving a bite of steak in my mouth.

"Fair enough. What if we leave it up to her to choose?" Atlas stirs the mashed potatoes on his plate. They are always too watery and smooth for me. They remind me too much of when I almost broke my jaw and had to eat fucking baby food, or something like it, for weeks.

"She'll choose me. I mean, who could resist this?" I reply, dead serious.

"I don't know man, if you'd felt the way she kissed me, you wouldn't be so confident." Atlas snorts.

Just the sight of her in that stupid fucking video as she kissed Atlas had made me furious and more turned on than I'd ever been in my life. I doubt he'd appreciate knowing that, though, so I keep my mouth shut and think about my statistics homework so I don’t get a damn boner while eating dinner.

"Want to make this interesting?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I honestly don't know whether I mean it or not.

"You want to bet on Little L?" Atlas asks quietly.

"Not on her, just on our actions. We've talked about this. She's special," I say, though I hate sounding like such a pussy.

"Who ever thought we'd be interested in the same girl? And that girl would be the little sister of our best friend?" Atlas muses quietly to himself.

"First one to bring back a pair of her panties wins," I say between mouthfuls of food. "And I'm not talking from a drawer."

"You're such a freak."

"You in or out?" I say ignoring his dig.

"What's the bet, though?"

"Money?"

"Money doesn't mean shit, and you know that," Atlas says, though his expression tightens, and it makes me wonder what's going on at home.

"Then what?"

"Streak the field during a football game?"

"Over done." We had someone streak at a football game at least once a year. "Wear panties to the alumni dinner?"

"Wear panties to the Care for Kids Gala."

I shake my head. "Someone would call the cops. How about wearing panties to the winter formal or the first lacrosse game of the season?"

"Deal. Winner gets to choose the panties."

Fuck. Now it's really on. I know if Atlas wins, I'll probably be wearing a lace thong or something equally ridiculous. "They have to cover everything, though. I'm not going to jail for something as stupid as indecent exposure."

"Deal."

We shook. Well, that's that. I know I'll get Lyric first, and I'll taste that sweet pussy of hers before Atlas does because I never lose a bet. Something the guy should have remembered but seems to have forgotten. It's part of what makes me, me. I've never been super competitive when it comes to sports, but bets? There's something about a wager that sets me off.

When I look up from my plate, I see Jude watching us, his arms folded over his chest. He doesn't even know what we just agreed to and he's pissed about it.

"Why does he hate her so much?" I wonder. I didn't exactly mean to wonder aloud, but it happened anyway.

"I think he's just angry at the world," Atlas says, looking down at his plate.

"True, but there's something about Lyric that gets him more fucked up than anything else."

"Maybe she reminds him too much of Lyssa? They weren't exactly on good terms when Lyssa died, and I don't think he's ever forgiven himself for that."

With that, we both fall quiet. It’s not that we don’t have anything more to say about it—I'm sure we could both talk like little old ladies about the subject until we were blue in the face. It won’t make any difference, though. Jude had been different since Lyssa's death. Well, since right before, actually, when they’d started fighting.

Atlas might be right, or he might not. I honestly have no idea whether it really is Lyssa's death that has driven him away from all of us, or whether it's a family thing, or something else entirely. Jude isn't exactly a talker. All I know for sure is that it’s not just me who was pissed when the video of Atlas and Lyric kissing surfaced. Jude and Thayer were right there with me. Not that either of them had any right to be, since they both had girlfriends.

I push the thought away. Dealing with my own feelings toward Lyric is enough, nevermind anyone else's. Besides if they want to fuck up their relationships, that's their business. I'm not going to get in the middle of that shit. It's too messy. I'd rather just figure out what's going on with Lyric and why I can't pin her down the way I can with other people. And why I want to pin her down on my bed so damn much.

With dinner over, I know I can safely escape Jude's glare and leave him to sulk alone. Dude needs a therapist or something. Or maybe he just needs to be more like me and enjoy beating the absolute shit out of strangers to get his anger out. If he doesn’t it’s going to destroy him from the inside out, and like any bomb that eventually goes off, it will hurt everyone around him as well.