Chapter Two
Lilac
Sitting in the bathtub as the lukewarm water soaks my skin, I reread the message thread between Irvin and me.
I nibble on my lip.
I don’t know if I should see him, and I’m not going to lie, I did miss him these last few months, but we don’t have a future. He knows it, and I know it.
I grip the edge of the tub hard until my knuckles ache. Today has been a depressing day. It’s the anniversary of my parents’ death, and I still remember the smell of gunpowder and fireworks. The life leaving my mother’s eyes and my father’s brain matter smeared across the wall.
I should use Irvin to help me get over the guilt of what happened. It was my fault. I don’t know why I was the only one who survived while they didn’t. Why does bad luck follow me everywhere I go?
Tears gather in my eyes, but I wipe them away, clutching my chest.
I decide I’m going to meet him. He has a stash of weed somewhere in his room, and I can use that to ease the pain. He promised me he’d cook me food, but I’m not in the mood to eat.
Once the water turns my skin pruney, I haul myself out of the tub, pat myself dry with a towel, then throw on an onyx-colored turtleneck, black-and-white striped jeans, and charcoal suede boots.
I fumble with the zipper as knots grow in the pit of my stomach.
Then, to finish it off, I spray perfume all over my clothing.
I march to the coat hutch, wiggle my dark coat over my body, then stroll out the door.
I hike through the woods and down the path that leads to the mansion where Irvin lives.
The sun creeps between bare oak trees, and the cold nips at my face, burning the tip of my nose. My boots crunch the leaves. Owls screech. My pulse thumps. Leg muscles cramp.
Usually, I walk this trail with Lyrical, but since she’s been married to Snow, we don’t walk it often, which I totally understand. It feels lonely and empty now. I shake my head as a shiver slithers down my spine.
By the time I arrive at the mansion, the sun has gone down, and the sky is cosmic black. The clouds hover over the blistering white moon. I love nighttime. It’s peaceful, calming, and soothing.
I peer at the angry gargoyles that sit atop the roof, glowing down at me as if they know my deep, dark secrets.
Megan Thee Stallion pounds from the lit mansion, overshadowing the sound of the harsh waves rolling onto the shore.
The frosty wind blows, and I stuff my fingers into my coat pockets as I drift to the French doors.
Keanu stands next to a statue, delivering shots to people.
He’s cute, and sometimes crazy shit comes out of his mouth.
His crimson hair is pulled up into a man bun, and he wears a T-shirt and shorts despite it being barely forty degrees out here.
He towers over me, and my gaze lingers on his azure eyes while I avoid staring at his tan muscles. I see why Winter likes him, he’s kind.
His bright eyes beam, and a smile ghosts his face as he offers me a shot.
“Irvin’s girlfriend. Fancy seeing you here.”
I slant against the archway and down the shot. The golden liquid burns my throat.
“My name is Lilac. I’m not his girlfriend.”
He eyes me curiously as he hands me another.
“That’s not what he’s telling everyone, pretty girl.”
The nutmeg aroma lingers in my nose before I down it. The earthy flavor explodes on my tongue.
Why the hell is Irvin telling everyone we’re in a relationship?
After my relationship with Emerson, I don’t want to date.
After graduation, I plan to move to Los Angeles and work on my psychology career.
My father left me thirty million dollars, so I’m surviving on it and using it to pay for school.
“We’re about to play beer pong. Want to play?” he asks.
I cock my eyebrow. “Who is we?”
“Me, Winter, and my little brother Flynn.”
I shake my head and hand him back the empty glasses.
I spoke to Winter about Keanu, and she’s in love with him, but I don’t know if the feeling is mutual. Lyrical told me he hooked up with someone else last winter break.
Out of all of Irvin’s friends, Keanu appears to be the nicest—I suppose. I don’t like Snow; he’s an asshole. And Jameson just wants to fuck. Anyone.
Irvin doesn’t hang with them often. He’s the loner of the group, and he doesn’t fit in with them. The only reason he hangs out with them is because he’ll be the COO of the American Billionaire Club. They aren’t allowed to talk about what goes on at the club.
I survey the living room anxiously—Jameson is receiving head in the corner by the television, and a few other people are banging each other.
The music blares through the speakers. Sweat burns my eyes. Memories flood—my parents’ bloody bodies. The smell of burnt flesh. Gunpowder in the air.
The midnight blue walls close in. Chills bite my spine. My heart pounds.
The crowded living room suffocates me. Too close to that night.
I need air.
I bolt through the sea of people.
My stomach twists.
I amble upstairs to Irvin’s room. I open the door, sighing as I slide to the floor, reciting, I’m safe. As I catch my breath, I inhale a heavy dose of cologne mixed with cedarwood, which warms me. Piles of clothes scatter across the carpet. It doesn’t surprise me one bit. He’s always untidy.
My face falls. Where could he be? He told me to be here, and he isn’t. I remove my phone from my pocket and note that I’m an hour early.
I stroll to the dresser.
A picture of us together last year at the Halloween carnival. I wore a schoolgirl outfit with pigtails and knee-high socks, and he wore a Jason Voorhees mask with torn jeans. We look like a happy couple, but that will never be us.
Goosebumps break out on my skin.
The same carnival where Lyrical was attacked by Savannah. I don’t know what happened to Savannah. She went missing—and that was it. She disappeared and was wiped away like she never existed. I have an eerie feeling that Snow killed her.
I suspect the American Gods kill people. If Irvin killed people, it wouldn’t shock me, which makes my need to stay away from him grow. But for some reason, I can’t stay away from him, no matter how hard I try.
I spot a plate of food wrapped in foil. I unfold it and smell the grilled scallops and baked potato.
I dig into the food. The meat tastes poached and lemony, and the potato melts in my mouth. I forgot to eat today, my parents’ death eating at me instead.
I’ll never get close to anyone. I shouldn’t be here in the first place. I don’t deserve to be loved by any man.
As soon as I finish the meal, I set the plate on the nightstand.
I glance at my phone again, and it’s thirty minutes until I’m supposed to be meeting Irvin, so that gives me enough time to snoop through his things.
I drift to the walk-in closet and study the dark wood panels. The drawer is made of real wood, and a picture of me is taped to his floor mirror. I explore his drawers and find nothing but underwear and socks.
Where did he hide the weed? I know it’s here somewhere.
“Looking for something, princess?” His tone is husky.
I turn around as my breath hitches and my pulse throbs.
Irvin hovers in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, a smile blooming across his face.
I place my hand over my chest and smile back at him.
He’s shirtless, displaying his abs. I want to trail my fingers across his smooth skin, but I refrain from doing so.
My gaze drinks in the V-cut that disappears below his navy jeans.
Ink covers his chest, arms, and face. The word sad is ingrained under his left eye, next to a lilac flower on the side, which wasn’t there the last time I saw him. Why would he mark himself with the plant that shares my name?
It’s kind of hot… and creepy.
“Why did you get a lilac flower tattooed on your face?” I question.
He looks more like a bad boy than a rich person, and he reeks of power. His silver hair is spiked. He’s fine as fuck.
He drifts closer to me, and his presence sucks me in like a vacuum.
I still remember the way he felt between my legs—raw, full, and huge. And I crave him right now. He’s the only man who can bring me to my knees.
With his palms cradling my face, he strokes his calloused thumb over my cheek as he flashes me his pearly whites.
“I asked you a question, princess. Why are you going through my stuff?”
I feel my cheeks flush. My eyes dart to the midnight marble floor, then back up at him. My teeth sink into my soft bottom lip, biting back a moan.
“I was looking for you.”
“You going through my stuff is looking for me?” He strokes his knuckles across my cheek. “I’ve missed you this winter break. You didn’t return any of my calls.” He caresses his fingers through my relaxed lavender hair. “As my girlfriend, you can’t ignore me.”
My cheeks burn hotter than the sun.
I try to sidestep him, but he blocks my way.
“I’m not your girlfriend.” I back away as the closet island brushes against my hip.
“Besides, what would be the point of us dating when we know you’re going to be arranged to be married to someone else?
” My words hurt my own feelings, but I’m right, and he knows it.
“Stop telling people we’re dating. You’re doing it to cockblock me. ”
He blinks rapidly, clenches his jaw, steps forward, and shoves his hands into his pockets.
“You’re mine, Lilac Lauren.” Then he quickly changes the subject. “I love your hair like this. It’s so pretty.”
Why would my words anger him?
“Thank you,” I murmur.
I try to sidestep him again, but he stands in my way yet again. He removes one hand from his pocket, intertwines his warm fingers with mine, and leads me back into his bedroom.
He looks at the empty plate on his nightstand and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Did you enjoy the food? Was it cooked right?”
“Yes, it was delicious. I haven’t eaten all day, so thank you.”
He studies my face.
“You look sad. Why haven’t you eaten, princess?”
I can’t believe he can detect my emotions so easily. Usually, I’m good at making a poker face.
“What are you stressing about?”