Chapter 8
Dash
I shouldn ’ t have told Mila that. Titan would agree; Damian, well, I never know what that twisted fuck thinks. He ’ s got a soft spot for broken animals, but sometimes, instead of helping them, he puts them out of their misery instead.
The way I see it, in order to get trust, you have to show some. Women fall for that shit all the time. I need Mila, and she needs me. She ’ s been used by so many, I decided the best way to bend her is to make her feel valued and strong.
And she fell for my words perfectly. She ’ s mine to use.
It was so simple. I wish it hadn’t been; I wish all the lessons my father taught me had failed. I wish I wasn ’ t a monster, but you are what you ’ re surrounded by. My surroundings made me a man who shouldn ’ t feel, but my cousins—well, they made me a rebel.
I do feel.
I feel inadequate yet powerful, guilty yet justified because this life is a game of survival of the fittest.
I wasn ’ t lying when I said Mila was a predator. We all are, but I happened to be a more precarious one.
The poor little ballerina has no idea her future is tied to mine, regardless. There is something about her that captivates the swelling darkness in me. She ’ s so flawed and broken. Her cracks have cracks. She is so filled with glue it ’ s amazing she is still able to stand.
Just because we ’ re all dying on the inside doesn ’ t mean we can ’ t fight and die with dignity. I want to give Mila that. I want her to feel strong, to know that in the end, she fought with everything she had.
It ’ s what I ’ d want to feel, like I had a chance.
It might sound cruel, but it ’ s kinder than just making her think she ’ s weak.
Did my dad pick her because she ’ s so good at standing while being broken, or does he think if I save her, fix her, it will make me the son I used to be, one that had a purpose?
I ’ ll never love. Only use. That ’ s a core lesson my dad taught me after my mom died.
Mila ’ s little button of a nose wrinkles. “ You ’ re a King. There is no trap for you. You make the traps. How can a hunter be broken?” She replies, her swollen lips remain parted. I run my tongue over my teeth, savoring her taste.
She ’ s…the best kisser I ’ ve ever had because she wanted nothing from me, not my money or name. She tasted like confusion, and I, being chaos, craved the disorder. We clashed and became something that sparked my frayed mind.
I couldn ’ t stop, so I didn ’ t. I gave in, allowing us both a moment of freedom before the games began.
“ The most skilled hunter is someone who is on the verge of death themselves. In the end, we ’ re all desperate to live. It just boils down to who wants it more.” There ’ s a twinkle in her eye, not of light but something gray and foggy. An understanding. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. “ How bad do you want to live, Mila?”
Her delicate throat bobs as she forces a swallow down. “ How can I trust you?”
A smirk tugs at my lips as I say, “ You can ’ t, but you can trust this. My last name is King, but I ’ m not my father. Not yet.” I grab my crutch tighter. “ I ’ m just as trapped as you, Mila. However, one day, I won ’ t be.” I look down at her, challenging her with my eyes.
What is your deep, dark desire, little ballerina? Do you want freedom or something else?
I guess I ’ ll find out when she comes to collect.
She glances at her watch. “ I have practice at three. Do you want me to show you around the school?”
“ You ’ ll learn soon enough that everything my family does is a trick, Mila. So sure, act like you ’ re giving me a tour, but when you talk to me, I need you to start telling me all the gossip. I need to know who is going to try to cut my throat first.”
“ They aren ’ t brave enough to do that. They know who your father is; attacking you head-on would anger him. They will try to stab you in the back first; that would shock your father more. Shocked men are easier to dismantle than furious ones. And not everyone will try to kill you, Dash. You ’ re just a stepping stool to your father. Some will try to use you if only to reach him. I ’ d be more worried about those predators than the kind with teeth.”
Fucking hell. She ’ s perfect.
Slowly, I grin. I made the right choice, or rather, my father did. Mila is the eyes and ears here. She ’ s also wise enough to pretend she isn’t.
Those wide hazel eyes peer back at me. “ Do you, um, want to change?”
I stare down at the cut-up scrubs I have on. “ No.”
“ It looks like you went through a paper shredder. Your pants are missing half a pant leg. You ’ re wearing scrubs.” She comments.
Yeah, it was the only way the nurse could get scrubs over the cast, so she had to cut off half the pant leg.
I tilt my head, “ Yeah, it does, but you know what, Mila? It looks like I survived. A King is hard to kill.” I hit the door with my crutch. “ Let ’ s get this tour started. I have a lot to learn.”
***
Oh, she ’ s good, and when she smiles and those two little dimples appear, everyone believes her. Fuck, I could gobble her right up.
As soon as we walked out that door, she smirked, fake as fuck, and every single person ate it up. They swallowed without tasting her hiddenundertonesthat she was miserable.
No, she ’ s beyond sad, she ’ s numb.
Mila ’ s performing like the perfect straight-A student who loves her school and is excited about getting the opportunity to show the new student around. From a distance, it looks like this is just a random tour. The facts I ’ ve learned beg to differ. Silverstone is like my other school, just unfiltered. Since the students live here, the waters are more murky. We ’ re all a huge fucked-up family.
“ There are two dorm buildings. Boys are in the North; girls are in the South. You ’ ll find those rules are not enforced by the school, and the only parents who care about virtue, enforce separate sleep arrangements with the help of full-time body guards. And that usually only pertains to the girls. The boys are free to sleep around,” she bitterly adds.
“ Does that bother you?” Does she sleep around? Why does that thought disgust me?It makes me want to brush my teeth, to strip her bare and clean her before I touch her again. I never said I wasn't possessive. I like my toys to be mine and mine alone.
Kings don't share well.
She stops walking and looks up at me. She ’ s so short she has to tip her head all the way back as if I ’ m a deity she is calling out from the heavens. Shit, she really is pretty if you ’ re into that untouched girl-next-door vibe. She ’ s a trick because she is far from the girl next door. We ’ re all deceivers here.
“ It should bother you.” She reaches up and smooths out her tight hair bun as if trying to remain calm. She demanded that she fix her hair, styling it back in that high, painful ballerina ’ s bun before we left the school office.
So it does bother her. Why doesn ’ t she just take it? Sleep with whom she wants? Unlike other kids here, she has no bodyguard following her heels.
What ’ s stopping you, Mila?
“ If I want something, I take it,” I respond. Her pupils dilate, and her eyes drop to my lips. “ How do you think I got myself into this mess? I took it and said, ‘ fuck the consequences ’ . Now I ’ ll deal with them.” I touch my broken leg.
Stop looking at my lips like you want them back in your mouth, Mila. I ’ m no good for you, little ballerina.
“ What happened?” she asks carefully.
I ’ m not going to answer her, but then her sweet face forces my tongue to slip out and yet again confess another truth. “ I got tired.” Shut up! Stop talking to her. What the fuck are you, an open book you want her to read?
It feels good to be picked up, to want to be read and not just used, doesn ’ t it?
“ What does that mean?”
“ It means I got into a fight hoping to lose.” My molars knock against each other as I grind my jaw shut.
“ Why did you want to lose?”
“ Losing can show you what you ’ re made of.”
"Did you like what you found—what held you together so you could stand again?" There ’ s that dangerous side she hides behind her thick lashes.
I lean down; my shadow covers her face like moonlight corrupting a peaceful pond, making it look ghostly. “ Careful, Mila.”
“You must have liked it,” her throat rolls as she forces her gulp down, “ or you wouldn ’ t have gotten back up.”
“ And you must like to play with monsters.”
Her lips part, eyes wide like a scared, foolish girl teetering on the edge about to jump to her death. “ Some monsters can be tamed.” She whispers so low it forces me to step closer.
“ Is that what you want to do, Mila, tame me?”
Her chest rises and falls, pushing her small breast closer and closer to me. “ No.”
“ Liar.”
“ I just want to be alone. I want to be free.” She looks into my eyes. Not many people do that. They look all over my face but never my eyes. It ’ s like staring down a loaded gun daring me to shoot.
“ Then stop sticking your hand out, trying to feed me. I ’ ll bite and never let you go.”
I don ’ t know how my hand lands on her cheek, but it ’ s there, cupping her face. The warmth of her flesh penetrates my cold, terrible hands, making the calluses feel smooth again. My thumb presses into her chin, drawing her nearer. Her cheeks bloom like the petals of a rose opening for the first time.
“ Stop it!” she hisses.
“ Make me.” I smirk, “ Push me away.”
Hot breath bathes my fingers. It isn ’ t until a group of students walks by that she jerks away, and then she pretends to fix her hair again.
“ Scared to stain your perfect image?” I retort. What the fuck am I doing? My cock is hard. I want to do things to her. Maybe it ’ s a side effect of my broken leg. Maybe I ’ m just admitting I ’ m a monster and no longer fighting it. After all, Damian and Titan suggested I do this: find a toy, play with it, use it, then discard it.
Her lips tug to one side, and she is unsure how to reply.
“ You should let your hair down,” I add.
She jerks her chin up, “ And give you a leash to grab me by. I think not, asshole. It's bad enough I made a deal with you.”
I laugh. She surprises me like that.
She looks down at my broken leg. There goes our banter, back to the cold, hard truth—my weakness.
“ Um…the cafeteria has an espresso machine. In case you ever feel tired and ponder losing again. Think better this time because I guarantee you that the men here won ’ t let you just lose, Dash. They will take a lot more.” She offers with a small sympathetic smile; her eyes—those hazel orbs—see the truth. She knows I, Dash King, reached my boiling point; nothing was left. I evaporated, accepting failure, seeking it out, hoping it would destroy me. But like vapor, I fell back down, and now I ’ m going to start simmering again.
Why did I tell her that dark mistake of a truth?
Did someone here take more from her? Instead of asking, I tried to push her away. “ Life isn ’ t fair, Mila,” I snap angrily, swatting away her branch of kindness.
She blinks and looks me in the eye. “ I didn ’ t say it was.”
I adjust the crutch, pushing it further under my arm. My armpit is starting to really hurt, but I ’ ll just add it to the list of pain I have to hide from others. “ If the girls want to sleep around, then they should. You want something?” I raise a brow. “ Sometimes you have to take it.”
“ It ’ s not that easy.”
I step closer, toe to toe with her. The scent of her perfume infiltrates my senses; it ’ s sweet, like orange blossoms. My cock twitches.
“ Nothing worth taking ever is, or it wouldn ’ t be worth the risk, now would it?”
Why do I want to kiss her again?To taste her shock, fear, and excitement.
Kissing her was like tasting sin. She didn ’ t want to give in, butshe did, and that made me want her.
It was a dangerous taste. I shouldn ’ t allow it on my tastebuds again.
I ’ ve kissed other chicks before, butnone tasted like Mila. None made me want to give in to my feral side.
I have to draw a line. Useher,butnotthatway. I watched my parents have a marriage born out of desire that turned into love. Mom and Dad... their love for each other was, well, you can ’ t put it into words. I wanted that kind of love. I wanted a partner like my dad had.
I did. Until I watched what losing a love that powerful could do to a man.
Now, Iwant nothing but an escape. Mila isn ’ t that. Kissing her didn ’ t stop me from thinking. Itmade my mind go into overdrive.
Like I told my cousins, love from a King kills. My cousin Titan,well,he fell in love once. He thought he could save a girl named Elsa from his father. He failed, andI watched a piece of my cousin die the day Elsa did. I can ’ t afford to have any more of me die.
Mom ’ s death already took too much.
I lift my crutch and nod for us to continue walking. “ Who do you want?” I need to find out. I want to push Mila. Provoke her to sleep with them so I can be disgusted and not think about kissing her again.
She snorts. “ What makes you think I want someone?”
She picks up her pace slightly. Because of my leg, she ’ s been walking slower than she needs to. That ’ s good; I don ’ t want to walk slow; it makes me look weak.
“ You ’ re jealous of the guys here because they have freedom.”
“ Exactly,” she replies. “ I want what the guys have. Not women, not sex, not power. I want freedom.”
“ It takes a tremendous amount of power to maintain freedom, Mila. You can ’ t have one without the other. You need both, Mila.”
Her face falls like the water at Niagara Falls, hopes and dreams endlessly crashing over the edge until she loses energy, her fighting current; soon, she will be nothing more than droplets forced to be stuck together and used by others. “ You ’ re wrong, " she whispers with hope desperately clinging to the tip of her tongue.
I shake my head. I just crushed a tiny piece of her. Tainted it. She knows I ’ m right. She needs power to be free.
“ Have you tried to run before?”
“ No.”
“ Why not?”
She stops again, this time jutting her slender hip out slightly. “ Because I ’ m not a fucking fool, Dash King. When I am free, it won ’ t be short-lived. You owe me a favor, after all.” She slowly grins as if she has a trick up her sleeve.
Giving Mila freedom is an easy favor to fulfill. If she were wiser, she would ask for something only I could give her. Something rare and valuable that she could extort.
We walk a few more paces. I flex my back muscles, trying to shake off the pricking sensation of all the eyes digging into my back. Watching and waiting to see what I will do. I have two days before class starts to learn about my surroundings.
A group of men can be seen jogging in the distance before they eventually divert into the woods, where the trail becomes narrower. It ’ s like watching a pack of lions rush into camouflage. Before they totally disappear, the last guy looks over his shoulder at me as if he ’ s sizing me up.
I part my lips to ask Mila who he is, but when I look at her, those wide, ever-watchful eyes are already watching me, knowing what I ’ m going to ask. “ You want to know who they are and where they are going?”
I nod. Herfake smile fades like a tender tulip in a desert. Her eyes look at my broken leg.
My throat thickens. Here it comes, the danger, the truth. You can always scent it in the air; it ’ s sweet and sour, savory yet knots your stomach.
“ There is one thing you should know, Dash King.” Her sweet voice has lost its sugary flavor. I want to scream at her to stop looking at my leg. My weakness. “ Not everyone here lives to survive the weekend.”