Chapter 9
JUDE
Conner’s laughter makes me smile. I pause just outside the door and watch him.
I’d left him with Paisley while I headed inside to grab us some drinks.
He’s since been joined by Moll and Flourentine Daunt.
Yes, he was named after a French culinary term with an added u in there.
When your parents are literal kings, they can name you Slug, and there’s going to be an influx of people doing the same.
Every time I step away from Conner for more than a minute, he’s surrounded when I get back.
People flock to him. Maybe it’s his laughter or his smile.
He’s an affable person, but he has depth.
Personality. He’s equally awed at the caliber of people he’s surrounded with as he is unimpressed. They’re just people.
It’s one of the things that attracted me to Conner to begin with. Yes, he was in awe of me. He’s a hockey fan and a fan of Jude Vincent, wingman for the Dallas Bulldogs. But once the novelty of meeting me wore off, I became just another person.
The people here on Dark Island are much the same. In their own right, they’re the ‘popular’ kids, right? The rich and famous. They have ties to money and royalty. They’re used to being drooled over. Fawned over. Someone always wanting something from them. A piece of their glamorous life.
That kind of worship gets old pretty quickly when you realize that you’re surrounded by fake people who only want a piece of you. They want what you can do for them. They don’t want you as a person.
Conner had his initial moment of awe, but that faded, and he’s looking at them like they’re no one special. He can simultaneously be impressed and maybe a little intimidated by them and their families, as well as not care in the least.
He talks to them and laughs with them as if they’re his classmates. His teammates. As if their net worths don’t have two or three commas.
Instead of joining them, I choose a seat in the shade closer to the door I’d just come from. I’m facing Conner but at an angle so I can admire him and he can easily find me if he looks, but not so I’m appearing to be a stalker.
Maybe I am. Can you really stalk the person you’re fucking, though? I’m going to pretend that you can’t. I’m allowed to stare at the man I’m sleeping with.
“Hey, boss,” Zephyr says as he drops into the chair on my right. With him come Arek and Orev. The male half of the Van Doren quads are scarily similar, right down to their chilly auras and hauntingly emotionless gazes. They’re fascinating.
“What’s up?”
“I could ask you the same. You’re sitting here creeping on your man.” He grins, and we all look at Conner.
Only because he’s pretty thoroughly engaged in whatever has him laughing like that does he not realize he’s being watched. It makes me smile. I’m glad he’s not so focused on the abrupt change in his future—that he wasn’t prepared for—that he can’t laugh.
“I didn’t want to interrupt him. He’s having a good time.”
“You sound a little surprised,” Arek says. “In my experience, Lang is a happy person. He tends to laugh a lot.”
“In your experience?” Zephyr asks.
“We’re frat brothers. DIK for life,” Arek says.
Zephyr cackles at the double meaning. Arek means both, of course. “I didn’t realize that,” he says when he’s finished laughing.
Arek nods. “Yep. He mostly focused on hockey instead of our activities.” He shrugs.
“You’re friends?” I ask.
Arek tilts his head to the side. “Are we really friends with anyone?” he asks, and I know he’s referring to himself and Orev.
It’s difficult for someone with an antisocial disorder to make friends.
They don’t necessarily understand connections, nor do their cold personalities truly lend themselves to attracting people.
“We’re friends,” I point out. “Aren’t we?”
Arek studies me. His gaze moves over me as if he needs to view the full package to determine if that’s true. I try not to smirk.
“I suppose so,” he says. “I guess if I consider those who are part of Dark Island as friends, I have far more than I acknowledge.”
“How considerate,” Zephyr deadpans.
“You didn’t recruit him,” I point out.
Arek’s gaze travels back to Conner. He’s leaning forward as he talks.
“I don’t think he has the right stuff,” Arek says, shrugging.
“Speaking of right stuff,” Zephyr says, his typical light laughter gone, “Matty is getting worse. We had to move him to the tower late last night to avoid anyone overhearing his screaming.”
I sigh and glance toward the trees. “You call Liam?”
“I didn’t personally, but yeah. He was called. He can’t get away until tomorrow, but he’ll be here.”
“This is a matter of wanting someone to be a part of something we all knew they couldn’t handle and someone else insisting because they want them to be a part of everything in their lives,” Orev says.
“He’s missing the right stuff,” Arek says.
I nod, definitely not disagreeing. Liam’s want to share every aspect of his life with his boyfriend has been challenging at best. As a result, Matty is not doing well, and Liam is now riddled with guilt.
More than anything, Matty has to be kept like a prisoner, though in far better conditions. He can’t be let out into the world in his current mental state. Not when he’s ranting and raving like a madman about murder and ghosts and shit.
“That situation has made me afraid of falling in love,” Zephyr says, making us all look at him.
“You’re afraid that you’re going to force your partner to join a secret society with an entrance exam of murder as a means to completely assimilate them into your life, with the consequence of turning them insane?” Arek asks.
Zeph rolls his eyes. “No. I mean… I understand why Liam wanted Matty to be a part of this. I can’t imagine keeping such a big secret from someone who’s a permanent presence in my life.
Someone I’m supposed to share everything with.
That feels really big. It feels like I’m leading a double life.
Think about the lies I’ll have to tell to keep it hidden from them. ” He shakes his head.
I glance at Conner again. This time, I frown.
“It’s not that difficult,” Arek says.
“Says a man with a medical diagnosis that says they thrive on lies,” Zephyr deadpans.
I laugh. The twins chuckle.
“I don’t lie to my man,” Arek says. “I tell him I have business to take care of, and he doesn’t ask questions.”
“What if he asks questions one day?” I ask. “What then?”
“I killed his childhood abuser,” Arek says. “Something that he’s aware of in suspicion, even though I haven’t outright said so. I think he already knows. He’s not going to ask.”
“You’re missing the point,” Zephyr says. “But while we’re talking about him, why isn’t he here?”
“He’s on a family trip to visit his parents’ ancestral home.” Arek shrugs. “I’ll pick him up from JFK later this summer and bring him back.”
“For argument’s sake, let’s say he asks where you’re going or why you disappeared into the night. What will you tell him?” I ask.
Arek stares at me without blinking. It’s unsettling, though I know he’s not staring for any other reason than he’s considering the question. I’ve been around Arek and Orev long enough to know their habits.
“I suppose it depends on what I’m doing. You can tell the truth in such a way that they think you’re lying. Tell them that you’re heading out to kill someone who muddied our well, and they’ll think you’re just being ridiculous, when in fact, it’s the truth,” Arek says.
“I did that,” I admit. “Unintentionally.”
“You confessed that you’ve murdered someone?” Zephyr hisses. “Dude, you’re a goddamn hockey player! Are you trying to end your career?”
“We were caught up in almost fucking,” I defend. “And he took it just how Arek said. He thought I was just being funny. Freaky foreplay or whatever.”
Arek snorts.
“You think he’ll take the truth like Matty?” Orev asks.
I study Conner. He glances in my direction and smiles. I return it and raise my hand in a wave. His smile widens, but he turns back to his new friends when Moll demands his attention.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “He’s a good person.”
“I’m a good person,” Zephyr insists. “That doesn’t mean I won’t kill a bad person.”
“Is that what we do?” Orev asks, though the question sounds rhetorical. “Are they all bad people?”
“I killed a bad person,” Arek says.
“One bad person doesn’t erase the transgressions of those who aren’t bad that you’ve killed,” I point out.
“You make it sound like I go on murdering sprees,” Arek says. “I’m not that kind of killer.”
“It’s disturbing that we’re talking about this as if it’s just a plot to a book and not real life,” Zephyr mutters.
“There’s a difference between what we do and just showing up in a place and orchestrating a massacre for the hell of it,” Orev says.
“We have a reason for every murder we commit. But if you’re waiting for those reasons to be lawful, you’re living in the wrong era.
The morally bankrupt will only ever agree that murder is okay when it’s of their enemies.
We’re not killing their enemies. We’re killing their members. ”
“A man who defends gun violence dying from gun violence will only be a victim to those he’s defending. Not those he’s advocating harm to,” Arek adds.
“That’s strangely philosophical,” I say.
He shrugs. “The point stands, but the question remains. How will your man take this knowledge when he figures out you spoke reality?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that Conner isn’t my man.
I’m not sure we’re even together. Simply put, I was feeling greedy, and I wanted to keep his company while still being with my friends for my summer of mindless watersports and castle life.
I wanted my summer of fun since I spend so damn long working my ass off to remain competitive in my career.
Does that make him my man? Has there been a shift in our relationship at some point over the last couple weeks that what we’re doing has moved away from friends with benefits to the precursors of commitment?
Is that what I want?
The errant thought of keeping him as my bedmate at the end of summer pops up periodically.
Especially when he’s feeling upset about his lack of a career.
Is it my sympathy because I can completely relate to a man who dedicated his entire childhood and college years to a specific career path, and suddenly, you’re left with nothing?
My chest aches for him. I’m incredibly thankful that I was drafted. I’m even more thankful when I see what it looks like and get a taste of how it feels to have not had that opportunity.
But is he my man?
“What has you thinking so hard?” Zephyr says. “I can smell the smoke, sportsman.”
An absent smile touches my lips. I’m still staring at Conner, debating the answers. Answers to my own questions and an answer to Arek’s.
“I don’t know how he’d respond,” I say eventually. “But right now, that doesn’t matter. We have no business to take care of. We have no meetings scheduled for the next month.”
“You keeping him here all summer?”
I nod. “If he’ll stay, yeah.”
“I’ve never seen the perpetually solo Jude Vincent so hung up on a man,” Zephyr says, his usual beaming smile once more covering his face and making his eyes shine.
“Yeah, well… he knows how to fuck a guy good,” I say.
His laughter once more fills the air, and Conner looks in my direction. No one needs to know that maybe it’s more than that. I return his smile.