25. Vani
CHAPTER 25
Vani
I squint open my eyes, the morning light making them water. My head is pounding, and my tongue is thick and furry and stuck to the roof of my mouth. Dear God, I need some kind of hydration. My blood must be fifty-percent alcohol. How much did I end up drinking?
I do my best to recall the end of the night. What the hell happened? I remember being with Angelica and the others, and dancing, and drinking fish bowls… I groan. That’s where it all went wrong. I’m pretty sure there were shots involved at some point too.
I check my nightstand to find meds and water there. That seems very together for a girl as drunk as I must have been. I have no memory of putting them there.
Christ, my head is splitting. Moving gingerly, I push myself to sitting and pick up the glass of water. I place the pills on the back of my tongue and knock them back.
Five minutes later, I don’t feel much better. I groan and glance at the door to my room, trying to recall if there’s anything I’m supposed to be doing today.
Something on the floor catches my attention. My heart lurches into my throat and the room spins around me. What the hell? Not another one. Feeling as if the room is rocking whenever I move, I climb out of bed and pick up the note.
With shaking hands, I open the folded paper.
Should have died in the crash – bitch!!!
Oh, God. My blood runs cold, and my face paradoxically burns as if I’ve been slapped. That’s seriously fucked up. I was going to ask the Vipers about these notes the last time I went to their place, and got sidetracked by all the sex, and then they treated me like shit.
I had decided to get my revenge on them and not talk to them about this. Let them play out their pathetic games, and I’ll get my own revenge. Smashed up paintings for Saint, ruined cars for Lex, and I’ll find something Zane cares about and destroy that too. This note changes that equation, though. This is actually sick. I need to think about things.
Keeping this to myself is a bigger decision now because this note has upped the ante. Confronting them could be dangerous if they’re depraved enough to write this.
Would they write it? This seems too far, even for them. Surely, they wouldn’t have wanted me dead. They were the ones who came to find me.
I really can’t deal with this right now. I feel far too sick. Still disturbed by the note, I slide it into my bedside drawer and decide to think carefully about what to do next. I keep making rash decisions, and I don’t think they’re helping me any.
A pounding at my door matches that in my head.
“God, calm it down,” I grouse.
I go to the door and open it.
Saint is standing there.
“Saint!”
I remember then, last night, he was there in the bar. Watching me. One half guardian angel, one half demon stalker.
Walking into my room, he’s all scowls and attitude. He takes a seat on the chair next to my bed.
“What the hell were you playing at last night?” he demands.
He seriously shouldn’t be the one asking me questions right now. “What do you mean?”
I realize I’m in only my underwear, and scoot back into bed, gathering the blankets closer. Did I come back here with him after the bar? I can’t remember. It’s certainly a possibility. One of my final memories is being on the dance floor and him watching me. Did I invite him back? Would I have done that? I know I’ve been horny lately, but I’m sure I’d have remembered if we’d had sex. I squeeze my thighs together. I do have that slippery, swollen feeling, like it might have happened, but I really can’t be sure.
He doesn’t give in. “Answer the question. What game are you playing? Hanging around with those bitches? Is there anything you want to tell me?”
“Tell you? I have no idea what you are talking about. Jesus.” I put my head in my hands. “My brain is thumping on the inside of my skull.”
His shoulders drop a little. “Did you take some meds? Here, drink more water.”
From my nightstand, he hands me the half full glass of water. I take it gratefully, in too much pain to argue with him. My throat is so dry I feel as if I’ve crossed the Sahara. I gulp down the water and then pause, assessing how my stomach feels. Am I going to be sick? A wave of nausea washes over me, but then it subsides again, and I allow myself to breathe. I do not want to throw up in front of Saint. That would be so embarrassing.
Now I’ve dealt with my dehydration, it allows me to focus on what Saint is doing here.
I try not to glance at the drawer. The note is in there, its presence screaming at me. They make me feel a sticky sense of shame. Why do I suddenly feel guilty about the notes? Someone hates me enough to send them to me, and that in itself makes me all kinds of mortified. Is it the Vipers?
Maybe it’s not even all of them. Just one of them could be doing this. I might ask Saint, and he’d declare his innocence, but he might not know if one of the others wrote it. He doesn’t know what his twin and Zane are doing twenty-four-seven. Zane held a knife to my throat, so sending a little note doesn’t seem like big deal in comparison.
“Did you come back with me last night? Did we have sex? I was way too drunk to know what I was doing, but I feel like … I feel like I did.”
“We fooled around a little,” he admits. “After I walked you back to your room.” He looks around, his gaze anywhere but on me. “Don’t tell the others. They’ll demand their own turn, and you don’t seem up for that.”
“Shit.” I sigh and shake my head. “You guys are like a toxic drug I just can’t quit.”
I’d promised myself I wasn’t going to jump back into bed with them, not after what Zane did, and here I am, one day later, already messing with Saint.
I’d planned to get my revenge, not give them more orgasms. No wonder I’m a sticky mess.
“I need to get cleaned up.” I gesture to the door, but Saint doesn’t move.
“I can help you. Maybe I can clean you up with my mouth.”
“Jesus, no.”
He laughs. “ Merde , Venom. I’m not asking for anything in return. Lie back and enjoy it.”
“Get out,” I screech. “Last night was a mistake. I won’t be doing it again.”
“Oh, really, Vani? We’ll see about that.” He strolls to the door and grins at me before leaving.
What did that mean? He’s such an arrogant asshole
Glancing at my phone, I see a message. It’s from Faith. She’s asked me if I want to grab a coffee tomorrow. I smile at that. She’s nice, and seeing her without the other two would be refreshing.
I hope I’m over my hangover by then. I can’t deal with anything or anyone today. I’m just going to stay in my bed and rot.
By the time tomorrow arrives, I’m weirdly nervous about meeting Faith. I’d like a real friend, and I think she could be it, and that’s what’s got me a bit anxious.
It takes me ages to shower and dress. I’m still mildly hungover, and all I want is carbs and full-sugar Coke to quell the faint remaining nausea. I must have drunk so much to have a two-day hangover. I leave my room and head out.
As I walk down one of the long corridors, the scent of fresh shaved woodchips tickles my nose. I’m walking past the workshops where students can carry out metalwork and woodwork. Some of the girls work on jewelry designs, and some of the guys work on furniture and tools, and there’s a rumor that there is a secret class on modifying weapons. Who knows?
The woodsy smell is pleasant, but I wonder what kind of geek is in the workrooms on a weekend. Probably a professor. I almost do a double take when I glance in and see Zane.
Fascinated, I stop and watch him. I know he makes furniture, but I’ve never seen him doing so.
Headphones are clamped over his ears so he can’t hear me, and he’s facing partially away from me, so I can only see part of his profile. From what I can see, he’s totally engrossed in what he’s doing.
His face is almost a scowl as he focuses on the wood in front of him. It hits me then that this is something he loves. The same way Saint loves his paintings. This is Zane’s thing. I couldn’t think of anything that mattered to him, but his furniture does.
The way he’s zoned out on it shows a man completely in the flow, lost to the rest of the world.
He’s wearing a tight t-shirt, and it wraps lovingly around his biceps. His long, muscular arms, covered in their intricate ink, really are works of art. As for watching his big hands smooth that wood in such a careful, almost loving way…well, it does things to me.
I think I need to go to the doctor for a pill. Something to help with my addiction to these men.
As if he senses me, Zane pauses and turns. He smiles and beckons me over with two curls of his fingers. I hesitate in the doorway and glance at my phone. I have ten minutes until I meet Faith, and I don’t want to be late.
Still, as if drawn by an invisible string, my feet start moving before I’m aware I’ve even made up my mind.
When I near the wood, I can see how smooth the lines of what he’s working on are. I trail my finger over the lovingly curved edges. He signs something, but I don’t understand. He takes his phone out and writes.
The curves of this remind me of you.
I frown a little as he writes again, thinking he’s going to say something crude about my ass.
It’s beautiful—the way you are.
Looking at him through my lashes, feeling almost shy, I give him an unsure smile. These guys give me whiplash. This man held a knife to my throat, and now he’s telling me how beautiful I am. I need to remember what he did.
“Did you think I was beautiful when you had a knife to my throat?” I say, my voice bitter.
He shocks me when he smiles, and God, he looks gorgeous. He taps out another message.
Even more so.
Jesus, how am I supposed to take that?
He writes more. That blossom of blood on your throat was gorgeous. Kind of made me wish I had fangs.
I stare at him, as usual, unsure of how to take him.
He shrugs and writes again. Don’t you think that would be intense? Drinking each other’s life force. Your venom filling my veins.
Okaaay, I think I need to get going. Zane is a headfuck even when he’s being poetic.
I turn to leave, but he pulls me into him, my back to his front, and I let out a small squeak of surprise. I twist my head, and he’s towering above me, so he must have stood as soon as I prepared to go.
He shakes his head. Then he speaks. No sound comes out, but he moves his mouth so clearly, I can understand.
“ Kiss me,” he mouths.
I shake my head.
He nods.
“No, Zane, I’ve got to go.” I try to move, but his arms are massive, and I can’t break free from him no matter how I try.
“I’m not getting into more fucking sexy times with you Vipers,” I snarl.
He merely smiles as if I amuse him. Once more he mouths the words. “ No sex, just kiss .”
Then he slays me.
“ Please .”
Christ, this man . All of these men.
I roll my eyes, but I turn in his arms. The moment I do, he lets go with one hand and uses it to tilt my head up. His gaze roams all over my face, drinking me in. He watches me for a long beat, and then he lowers his head and kisses me.
It’s so gentle, soft, almost dreamy. He tastes of mint and smells of grass and wood. He lets go of my chin and runs his hands up and down my back, eliciting a deep tremble in my core.
In this moment, being kissed like this by him, I feel as if I’m falling.
Zane might not be able to talk, but he can use his mouth to speak, because this kiss is saying so many things.
When he breaks it off, I’m panting. My chest is full of emotions I can’t name. For one insane moment, I think I might cry.
He signs, but, at my frown, he takes his phone out again.
Thank you, Vani. You look so pretty today.
I laugh at that. “I feel awful. I got so trashed on Friday night, and then with the upset and then Saint and me …” Oh, shit .
Zane’s expression darkens and clouds.
He types fast, his fingers almost punching the phone. What upset you, and what did you and Saint do?
“Nothing,” I lie. “It’s nothing, Zane. I need to go. I’m meeting a friend for coffee.”
“ Who ?” He mouths.
“Faith.”
He sighs, and his expression makes it clear it would be a growl if he could.
He writes again. Is Angelica going?
“No,” I say.
He nods, and his face clears a little. Holding a finger up, he types something else.
I don’t like secrets, Vani. Secrets get people hurt.
I swallow hard and nod. “Okay, Zane, um, I really have to go.”
He watches me walk out of the room and I feel his gaze on me until he can no longer see me.
God, he’s intense.
I suck in air as I round the corner and plaster a smile on my face for Faith.