22. Juliet
22
JULIET
W hen we get back to my studio, Roquel pulls up with a scowl and narrowed eyes glaring at the brick building lit by the dull illumination of her headlights. I don’t bother to apologize for ruining her night. It took far longer than I would have cared for to find her. When I had, she’d been bent over one of the threadbare beds in the farmhouse with that jock, Hudson, railing her from behind. Mads and I had waited until the shrill cry of her orgasm faded and all we could hear were their panting breaths before we’d banged on the doorframe and hurried her along. She’d been annoyed and had refused to leave at first.
I’d been so keyed up that I hadn’t cared and was ready to drive off with her ride with or without her. Mads must be Mother Teresa reborn, though, because she’d taken Roquel off to the side, said something in low whispered words, and came back with an agreement that would get me back to my apartment sooner rather than later.
Roquel’s quiet fury is still festering when she parks the car. I can’t find the energy to care as I hop out of the front seat and mouth a quiet ‘thank you’ to Mads as she gets out of the backseat and switches to the front. Roquel doesn’t even glance my way as Mads closes the passenger side door, and soon the Camry is backing out and gunning for the exit.
What-the-fuck-ever.
I jog up the steps to my second-floor studio, my ankle twinging slightly, forcing me to slow my pace. The second the door is locked behind me, I strip off my clothes, toss on my pajamas, and pull out the futon. I draw the shades along the side of the sliding glass doors before slipping beneath the sheets and blankets and closing my eyes to shut out everything around me. I start counting seconds into minutes.
Do you want to be my friend, Juliet?
I flop onto my side and punch my pillow. Questions and curiosities circle my head like vultures ready to devour a carcass, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut and pray for sleep. I don’t even mind if it comes with my latest round of nightmares as long as I can escape reality. My whole life, I’d taken advantage of my parents’ wealth. Money is a protection—or at least, it was for a time. If you have money, then you have power and most people will think twice about hurting you. Most people…
Now, there is no more money. No medications. No therapists. No more protection. Now, here I am, raw dogging my fucked-up-ness like everyone else and it sucks just as much ass as I expected.
The memory of Lex beating Josh and Rich to unconsciousness plays on repeat in the back of my head. There’s no guilt, no fear, no sense of wrongness. They deserved what Lex gave them. They earned that pain and whatever else the Scorpion Kings plan to give them.
My eyes open and I flop onto my back once more, staring up at the stains on my ceiling without truly seeing them. Have I always thought like that or is there something seriously fucked up with me now? Maybe it’s both. Maybe I’ve always had a darker side but pushed it down because there was never any need for it.
Phantom warmth trails down my arm and invades my palm. Unclenching it from where it rests over my stomach, I lift my hand into the air and flip it over. There’s a thin red line where a piece of bark had pierced my flesh. Though it’s gone now, the mark lingers. My stomach clenches at the faint recollection of blunt teeth scraping my vulnerable skin and then the pain receding as Gio held me in place for Lex to remove the splinter. Gritting my teeth, I let my hand drop back down. There is a need for my darker side now, I remind myself. I’m in survival mode and if I want to get the hell out of Silverwood at the end of this year, then I need to tread very carefully. The Scorpion Kings could ruin everything for me.
My dreams, when they do come, are not the usual collection of nightmares. There’s no black abyss, no angry mobs, no zombies chasing me down. Instead, my twisted mind supplies me with a different kind of hunt. Dropping me back into those same woods I escaped mere hours ago, releasing me into the wild where I’m all alone.
Until I’m not.
“Pretty, pretty girl…” A whimper escapes my mouth as those words trail into my ears. “Pretty girls like it when the boys look, don’t you, Juliet?” I try to roll away, but my limbs are far too heavy. My thighs are pressed open. My dress is lifted. Cool air slides across my breasts, my pussy. I can’t open my eyes. I don’t want to. I’m scared to know who’s on the other side of this too-familiar nightmare.
Hands move down, down, down. The darkest oblivion reaches for me and I latch on to it. If I fall, then I won’t have to endure this.
“Juliet.” My head turns towards the familiar voice—different from the one before. The one that always compliments me but makes me feel like something sticky is clinging to every pore. This voice is deeper, gruff with a hint of feral danger. Somehow, I know it’s safer.
My heart pounds against the inside of my breast, an internal warning. The darkness surrounding me devours all of my senses, dropping into an abyss where I’ve never been before.
“Juliet.” My name echoes back to me in the shadows. Another voice, just as dangerous, but almost lighter—amused—as he calls to me.
Ragged breaths crawl up my throat. In and out, I breathe and I wait.
“Juliet.” Closing my eyes against the darkness doesn’t bring me any relief as their voices resound around me. There’s no pinpointing their location, and if that’s true, then there’s no escaping them either.
Still, I try. Stumbling forward, I place one foot in front of the other. Again and again, picking up the pace when nothing reaches out to stop me. Wind rushes up into my face, and every so often, something soft brushes against my sides, letting me know I’m not alone—that there are other things surrounding me. To my surprise, though, I never hit anything. I don’t run into any trees. I don’t trip over any roots. My legs find it quite easy to simply keep going. Through the woods and into the darkness, I run. And though I can’t see them, I know I’m being tracked.
“Run, Princess,” I hear someone say. “If we catch you … we eat you.”
‘We.’ If I wasn’t already sure I was being hunted by more than one of them, that statement confirms my suspicions. My bare feet fly across the soft earth, crunching dead leaves underfoot. A shiver of warning slithers down my spine and I stop in my tracks just as a pair of eyes appear before me. Crimson and glowing in the shadows, they hover a foot or so higher than my own—growing bigger and bigger the closer they come. I know I should turn and run in the opposite direction, but my feet don’t move. My legs hold me in place until I’m little more than a captive before the monster that steps from the gloom.
Big and broad, Nolan Pierce glares down at me. Moonlight suddenly fills the area, turning the void back into something I can see. We’re surrounded by thick trees and when I glance back, I see no path—no hint of where I came from and no sign of where I can go to get away.
“Juliet.” I close my eyes as Nolan’s voice skirts over my ears, deep and vibrating.
My hands shake at my sides, trembling against naked skin. Naked … skin? My eyes pop back open and I glance down to find that I’m not wearing clothes. I’m completely nude and so is he.
Hands slip from the darkness—more than one man’s hands. Gio and Lex appear on either side of me, caging me in as they had in the forest next to the farmhouse party. My throat closes completely, allowing not even a single gasp of air to pass into my lungs.
A light-headed feeling enters my veins, making the whole dream seem hazy.
“Pretty…” Rough, masculine fingertips brush my arms and then move down. Lex grabs my hand and lifts it once more. Except this time, there is no wound for him to make better. He sets his teeth to my skin and bites down.
“Are you ready to be eaten, Jules?” he asks. Something tells me that he’s not talking about cannibalism.
With eyes the color of dead embers, he crowds me closer to the others—both Nolan and Gio pressing against me to keep me locked between them. This is what was missing in the real world. There had only been two kings against me in the woods. Now, I have all three.
I swallow roughly, my head swimming. My body thrums with barely repressed desire, a need so volatile and extreme it threatens to set me aflame and burn my bones to ash. The darkness recedes a bit more, the silvery light of the moon sprawling across the four of us, revealing the dips and hollows of perfectly sculpted bodies.
All around me, holding me, caging me, protecting me.
When has anyone ever protected me?
A pair of lips descends and meets the skin of my throat. I tip my head back, my lips parting on a cry as fresh oxygen rushes in. I feel branded, claimed.
Tingles race up and down my spine, spilling into my bloodstream and stealing away all logic. If this is what insanity feels like … I never want to be sane again.
“Give in to us,” Nolan whispers.
Sweet, cruel words, but it’s alright. In this world—in my dreams—I don’t have to deny them. Here, I can take the pain and I can take the pleasure.
So, I do.
I wake to dull sunlight coming in through the thin blinds over the sliding glass doors next to my futon and my laptop’s notification alert dinging. Though all I want to do is close my eyes again and try to go back to sleep, there’s only one reason my notifications can be going off.
With a groan, I fling the covers off my bed and reach for the damn thing, dragging the computer from its spot on my scarred coffee table into my lap. There are a series of fresh emails from my dad’s lawyer. As I scan through them, I see that he’s been sending them at least once every few days. Without reading them, I drag the lot into the trash and delete them before moving on to the newest one.
Through bleary, sleep-heavy eyes, I rub my finger over the trackpad to the voicemail-to-text email application I set up to receive calls from The Dionysus Lounge. Past the date and time stamp that tells me the information came through less than thirty minutes ago, there is a request from one of the waitresses at The Dionysus Lounge asking if I can pick up an extra shift. I quickly check the timestamp of the notice and then the time it is now. If I hurry, I can make the next bus into Tangier, so I type back a quick reply to let her know I’ll be there.
After hitting send, I crawl out of bed and head into the shower. Standing beneath the spray, I think about last night. The woods. The dream. The Scorpion King that had chased me through both.
Do you want to be my friend, Juliet?
Lex’s voice penetrates the silence in my mind and I lean forward, twisting the knobs with jerky movements until ice-cold water slaps me in the face. With a gasp, I scrub both hands down my cheeks to ward off the freezing sensation but decide not to change the temperature back until I’m done. The feeling of someone else’s presence not just in my head, but in the safe haven my studio is supposed to be lingers as I get out of the shower and hurriedly dress in my usual black uniform.
There’s a red stain on the corner of my shirt, but I tuck it into the waist of my pants, thankful that the inside of the lounge is always dark unless we’re in the process of cleaning. Unlocking the front door, I pocket my keys and turn to go—nearly tripping over the plain brown box sitting in front of my apartment when I exit.
“Shit!” Catching myself on the opposite railing, I scowl down at the offending package before glancing down towards the end of the row of apartments.
I might think it’d been dropped off at the wrong place were it not for the name scrawled in big, blocky letters on the top. I stare at the box and then where the stairs wait, empty of people. Whoever dropped it off is long gone. For several beats, I contemplate leaving it right where it is, but at the end of the day curiosity killed the cat for a reason and I can’t deny myself. It has my name on it after all.
Picking up the package, I rip open the brown paper covering it, pausing only when I get to the electronic logo stamped into the side of the box. The lightness of the box alleviates some of my earlier anxiety and concern that it might be dangerous. Then I remember the legend of how the Silverwood Scorpions got their name and my grip on the box tightens and freezes.
Though Darrio Vargas might be today’s version of a crime lord, the power dynamics of Silverwood are ages old. Decades before, when an old Italian mobster had made Silverwood their home, he’d announced his enemies by sending them packages of scorpions. My fingers curve around the edge of the box and I wait, listening for any movement inside. There’s nothing though. No hint of little creatures hiding in the box’s contents. Slowly, though, I turn the box around in my grip.
“Just fucking open it,” I order myself as I let my nails dig under the edge of the cheap duct tape used to hold the flaps closed.
I slip the sides open and instant relief fills me. No scorpions. Inside the box is a second, smaller box, and immediately, I know who it’s from. As if the image on the outside doesn’t give it away, I lift the offending item out and scowl at it. I open the top part and stare at the black, brand-name knock-off. It’s a goddamn phone. A fucking cellphone .
The image of stabbing Lex in the face comes to mind and I find that I don’t hate it. I’m not even slightly disturbed. If anything, I’m excited by the prospect.
He gave me a fucking cellphone. I’m so stunned by the fact that I can’t even contemplate his reasoning. I don’t know how long I stand there holding the box in a death grip, staring at the phone’s blank screen. A bubble of hysterical laughter escapes me and I release one side of the box to slap a hand over my mouth. With a shake of my head, I dive back into my apartment and fling the box onto the counter of my small galley kitchen.
Why? The question echoes into my head. Why would he send me a phone? Then I shake my head because it doesn’t matter. I’m not using it.
Shoving the top of the box back on, I debate chucking the gift into the algae hotbed apartment complex ‘pool’ on my way to work. A moment later, the sound of an engine approaching the building forces me to forgo that plan and abandon the box in my kitchen to be figured out later.
I leave my apartment, hurrying to lock the door before I catch sight of the public bus ambling up the street. Stomping down the creaking metal stairs, I race towards the bus stop on the opposite side of the parking lot.
Fucking Lex. Fucking arrogant son of a bitch. Fucking Scorpion Kings and their stupid faces and their reign over the gutters of Silverwood. No matter what I do, it feels like everywhere I go I’m reminded of them.
There’s just no getting away from the Scorpion Kings.
Not at school. Not at work. Not at the gym. Not even in my goddamn dreams.