A muscle in my jaw jumps. I don’t like the sound of that. It makes my chest tight and uncomfortable. I don’t know why. Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I ball them into fists out of sight.
I take a breath and master the raging emotions battling inside, crushing the broken, hopeful boy, and remind myself I’m only a monster now.
Thumbing my wallet, I take it out with practiced disinterest. I count out the bills and fling them at her feet. They fly everywhere like the splash of a wave. Blair yelps.
Before she can bend down to collect the money, I get back in her face, wrapping a hand around her throat over the leather collar. The nameplate presses into my palm when I squeeze.
“If I’m your salvation…” I pause to smirk, flicking a vicious glare over her. With my other hand, I capture a lock of her hair between my fingers, twirling it around. “Welcome to hell.”
I memorize the look on Blair’s face. Hatred. That’s all. Not desire, not love.
Because that’s not something we’ll ever share. No one feels that way about me. I won’t make that mistake again, lured in by those kissable lips and the thrill I get telling her what to do. Maybe in another life, one where our circumstances were different, we could’ve been something that worked.
Blair and I aren’t a maybe or an almost, we’re just two people that fucking hate each other, trading hits back and forth to destroy the enemy in an effort to distract ourselves from our pain, trying to survive the bitter ass lemons life dealt us.
This is an arrangement designed to torture her. I can’t forget that goal by allowing her to yank on the parts I keep tucked away, buried under brambles and chains to protect myself from hoping. Those parts are weak and useless.
She’s doing this because I’m paying her, not because she wants to be. I can’t forget it, or allow myself to lose sight of crushing her beneath my heel.
Tonight I need to sit under the stars to settle the anger searing in my blood.
“I’ll give you everything you deserve. Punishment, humiliation, repentance.” My grip on her throat flexes with each word. “I’m in control of your sins now, my demonic angel.” Releasing her, I walk away, tossing over my shoulder, “Better button up if you don’t want anyone to know who you belong to.”
Sixteen
Devlin
The blare of the fire alarm grates on my ears. I skirted out of sight from the secretaries as soon as it went off while they shuffled out of the office. They think I’ve bled into the mass of people flowing through the halls to follow protocol, but really I’m waiting for the hive of offices to empty from my hiding spot in the coat closet.
“Third one this month, isn’t it?” Denise’s muffled comment makes me grind my teeth.
Hurry up, I think, wedged between a musty peacoat that’s been in the closet for two years and a forgotten raincoat. She’s taking the longest to leave.
I only have so long once the room clears out to find what I need, and it’s costing me.
Blair’s payment sits in my pocket, rolled up and wrapped in rubber bands. If I find what I need, I’ll pay her for pulling the alarm to provide the distraction for my snooping. It’s twice what I offered for this task, but the greedy little demon negotiated a better deal for herself because of the potential trouble she’ll get in if she’s caught. The idea that she cares about consequences is laughable.
I bite down on a smirk. What Blair doesn’t know is the alarm I told her to pull is in the same hall Principal Bishop always walks to take his secret morning smoke break.
She still did what I ordered, and I get an electric thrill from having so much power over her. I underestimated how addictive it is. Having her bend to my whims touches a long-hidden part of me I’ve smothered and suffocated for years.
For now, she’s not going anywhere. That thought keeps running through my head at night when I sit on the roof watching for shooting stars.
My obsession with her willing compliance is growing, feeding the beast. It’s voracious, starved for more of her obedience now that I’ve had a taste. I want to know exactly how far I can push her.
When no sound comes from the office other than the shrill ring of the fire alarm, I slip from the closet.
Vice Principal Sanford’s door swings open and I duck behind the circular desk before I’m busted. I hold my breath as he lopes across the room. I give it a few more seconds, then poke my head over the edge of the desk where my half-eaten donut sits.
The coast is clear.
I wonder if this is how Blair feels when she’s knocking over convenience stores or whatever delinquent trouble she gets up to as I go to the room at the back of the administrative hub. The doors are unlocked during the day, saving me the trouble of breaking in after hours with the set of keys Bishop and I copied sophomore year.
Thankfully, the room muffles the angry trill of the alarm once I’m inside. The permanent records of every student are kept here. It looks like something out of a stuffy old gentleman’s club rather than a high school, with a muted style stu
ck in time. There’s a leather chair in the corner, like someone enjoys leisure time with the student files, and polished wooden file cabinets line the walls. The only staples missing are a fireplace and cigar smoke.
Finding the drawers for the D-E names, I get to work. There are only minutes to swipe her file.