31. Zane
CHAPTER 31
Zane
The message from Saint says to meet at the mansion. It woke me from a deep sleep and a delicious dream where Venom was sucking my cock. I’d much rather stay in bed and jerk off than obey Saint’s command to meet. Something else must have happened, though.
Yesterday, we’d agreed to leave things for a day or two, so we could think about things rationally and not make a mistake by being too rash, so why the change of heart?
Sighing, I head to the shower. I can’t resist taking care of my erection as I wash—it’s too good to waste. I brace one hand against the shower wall, my biceps and pecs flexing, and wrap the other around my cock. I only have one person in mind to jerk off to, and that’s the curvy, dark-haired girl who is filling my thoughts, even though I hate that she’s betrayed us.
Water runs down my body, dripping off my hair and the end of my nose. I work my other hand up and down my length, growing harder in my grip. Pre-cum leaks from the slit, so much that it’s almost like I’m coming. What I’d give to be inside Vani now, to have her soft, heated body wrapped around me. I’d fuck her so hard and so deep that she’d never be the same again. In my mind, she’s on her back, her thighs and tits and belly jiggling with every thrust. Her legs are hooked around my hips, and she curls her back so she can watch my cock enter her. She’s so wet and stretched. Her lips are parted as she moans and gasps for breath, and she gazes up at me with a combination of lust and adoration.
Ah, fuck.
My balls draw in tight, and I clench my ass and thighs, the sinew and muscle taut. Hot cum races up my cock and spurts against the shower wall. The intense pleasure has me squeezing my eyes shut, and I jerk and shudder with each additional release that goes through me.
I exhale a long breath and remain in that position as my erection softens in my hand.
My heart aches. What if I never get to do that with Vani again, for real?
I can’t think about that now. I need to meet the others, and telling them I’m late because I jerked off in the shower probably won’t cut it.
I turn off the water, dress quickly, and jog out the door.
I head down to the lower corridors and take the back way out, passing by the woodworking rooms. As I jog down the hallway, I hear commotion from inside the room. I glance at my phone. It’s too early for any of the classes, so I push open the door and peer inside.
There are two of the technicians who help students out during class, and they’re muttering and swearing. I see why. I stare in dismay at the mess. Everything is as it was except for my table,
No, not my table. Vani’s table. My gift to her. Now it’s ruined. It’s gouged and scarred by what looks like a knife. Who would do something like this?
The Preachers.
Didn’t Vani say they wanted to come after us, that they’re pissed at us? God knows why. They’re such weirdos, though; do they even need a reason?
“Why the fuck did you call me down here to look at a damaged table?”
I pivot to see Dom behind me, speaking to the technicians, ignoring me entirely. Great. At least it’s not the dean. “Whose is it?” he asks.
One of the techs points nervously at me.
Dom rolls his eyes. “Could have fucking guessed. What are you doing here?” He sneers at me, his expression insanely punch-able, and turns to the tech. “Was he here when you arrived?”
“No, sir,” the tech says, and I grit my teeth.
Sir? Fucking sir. What an asshole.
I can’t deal with this now, and maybe this has something to do with why Saint needs to see us. Turning to head out the door, my progress is halted by Dom’s hand on my arm.
“Why is your table the one that’s messed with? What have you idiots been up to?”
I wrench my arm free and mouth malaka at him before leaving the room. I just called him a jerk-off in Greek and could have said much worse. If he comes after me, I’ll pin him against the wall and rearrange his annoying face.
He must have some sense of self-preservation because he doesn’t follow me and leaves me alone to stalk off down the corridor.
When I reach the mansion, Saint is pacing in the living room, and his face is paler than usual. “Where the fuck is Lex?” he demands.
I shrug. How the heck would I know?
Saint scratches his arm and resumes his pacing. “They’re messing with us,” he says. “The Preachers. They’ve done something to my skin, and they ruined my paintings.”
I frown and sign. How?
He growls. “With their dark magic and their rituals. Vani said they would.”
I laugh silently, and his face darkens like thunder. I take out my phone and type on the notes app . They don’t have any real magic. It’s bullshit. Don’t let them get in your head. They are messing with us, though. They ruined my table .
“Fucking pieces of shit,” he shouts as he smashes his fist on the coffee table in front of him.
He’s not wrong there. They are absolute bastards, but magic? No. I don’t believe that. More to the point, neither did Saint, so what’s changed?
I was making it for Vani, I write.
Saint reads those words and shakes his head as he scoffs. “Why, you idiot? Gonna nest with her? Play house? This has all gone on too long. She’s either got to learn her place or go.”
I shove him so hard, he staggers back. I point at him, and then, deadly serious, I draw a line across my neck and point at him again. Making sure he gets the message.
Laugh at me like that again, fucker, and I’ll slit your throat.
Saint doesn’t get to talk to me as if I’m stupid. He knows I hate that. I get treated as if I’m an idiot daily because I can’t speak. I won’t take it from him.
At first, rage flashes across his features, and I wonder if we’re going to fight, but then he looks at me, and his face falls. The tension flees to leave nothing but despondence.
“ Merde, Zane, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. Fuck. I feel … weird. Everything is off. Nothing seems right.”
He’s not wrong, but I don’t believe it’s magic.
Lex? I mouth.
“No fucking clue. I haven’t been able to get ahold of him.”
The wind outside howls, and I go to the window. I frown; there’s a storm moving in. The sky is dark, bruised, and the air has that heaviness that means something big is on the way.
The trees bow and bend, and Saint joins me at the window.
“Are you sure this isn’t those fucking Preachers? Our things destroyed. My skin, which falls under the category of plague.” He smirks, trying to infuse humor into his tone. “A storm coming from nowhere. What next? A swarm of locusts?”
I glance out the window again, and a small shiver of unease hits. The sky is a bizarre color, and weather doesn’t normally move in this fast around here. We should get back to the college and find Lex , I sign.
“Yeah, things feel funky.” Saint gives an exaggerated shudder, but I have to force the smile, because they do.
I don’t believe for a moment that the Preachers have genuine magic working against us, but there’s something in the air, and it feels dark and dangerous.
We head out of our place and back to the college. As we approach, I glance up at it to see the lights glimmering in the gloom. Anyone would think it was twilight, not early in the day. The wind is picking up. and, in the distance, thunder rumbles.
Christ, Verona Falls manages to appear gothic in blazing sunlight, but it was built for days like this. I can’t deny the strange beauty of the light and the way the building stands stark against it.
When we hit the main hallway, the bustle of a new day makes me feel a little better. More normal. There’s a gang of students gathered around the wooden mail slots that the college still uses in the same arcane way it uses all kinds of old school things. They aren’t locked either, because they’re generally only used for communication from the Dean to us. I stop at the bottom of the hallway, watching them milling around. What gives?
I watch as one by one they take out pieces of paper and read, and then talk, laugh, gasp. They’re chattering and the whole vibe is energized. Distracted for a moment, I head to the mail slots to see what they are reading.
Maybe the dean has sent down some new rules, but then why the laughter and gasps? As I approach, the students part like the Red Sea, letting me pass.
Saint is close behind, and he hits me when I halt. I haven’t even reached my own slot, but in front of me, on the ground, slightly crumpled, is a flier, and I can’t fucking move.
No. No way. This cannot be real.
I bend down and pick up the paper. It’s a photograph of Vani that was most likely taken on someone’s cell when she wasn’t aware, as she’s glancing away and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s been photocopied and has the words Daddy’s Little Whore scrawled across it in red ink.
My blood boils, and a roaring fills my ears. I can’t contain the rage filling me. I’m going to explode with it. I turn to my right and see a group of girls laughing like idiots as they look at the flier. I pull the paper from their hands, ignoring their scandalized gasps, and rip them up.
A guy next to me has just pulled his out of his mail slot, and I grab it from him, too. I let the pieces fall to the ground like confetti. Then I turn to the rest of the mail slots, gathering up all the remaining fliers. Some students have gotten theirs, but plenty are still to be claimed.
Saint catches on and starts to help me.
“What the fuck?” he asks, voice low. “You still don’t believe me about the Preachers? They’re setting us up. Think about that night, when we tortured her. The words we made her say. This has to be that. They’re fucking with us, and it’s some dark, satanic shit.”
I shake my head.
He starts to speak again, but I turn to him, and something in my eyes must make him realize that, right now, he needs to shut the fuck up.
There has to be a rational explanation for this. Maybe they have put listening devices in the house? Something along those lines, but not fucking magic.
My heart is beating too fast. Has she seen this? She’s going to think this is us. There’s no way she’s going to come to any other conclusion. It makes me realize something else too.
There are forces waged against us all, and, no matter what she was talking to Jarl about, Vani isn’t our enemy. We should have spent less time suspecting her and more focused on whoever the fuck has been manipulating us.
“Maybe she’s done it herself,” Saint says. “Part of a plan with Jarl?”
I turn to him and stare. He’s chewing his lip and scratching his arm. Is he insane? Why would she do this to herself?
Why? I mouth.
“A double bluff,” he says. “She’s working with Jarl against us. She knows this looks really bad for us. Christ, she’s a fucking venomous creature, all right.”
My arm pulls back before my brain registers consciously what I’m about to do. I let it fly, my balled fist connecting with Saint’s mouth. He stumbles back, falling on top of the torn papers. His lip is split, and he’s dazed.
I don’t hang around long enough for him to recover and hit me back. He can go fuck himself. I’m beyond fuming with him, and worried about Lex, but most of all, I’m worried about Vani.
I fish my cell from my pocket and call her, but it cuts off on the second ring. I try again, and this time it cuts off on the first.
The text appears a moment later. Never call me again, you despicable bastard. I fucking hate you. All of you.
Well, that answers my question as to whether she’s seen the fliers or not.
Despondent as hell, I stalk down the corridor. I sense eyes of other students on me, and I want to roar my fury at them. I need to get away from everyone. Slipping down one of the rear passages, I reach a spiral staircase that will take me up to the second floor, and beyond. I start to climb, but the sound of footsteps comes from above.
I lean out, just as someone above me does the same.
I see her. Two floors up. Vani.
Our eyes lock, then she pales, and turns and runs.
Fuck, no. She has to know I didn’t do this.
I give chase, taking the stairs two at a time.
I’ll make her listen.