Chapter 13
I waited until the Boleyn girl walked back to Morgana before returning to the dining hall and approaching the Yorks, under the watchful eyes of the students in the room and the leeches that sat at their table.
If any of the watching students attended Castlehill last year, then they’d know the York clan had a history with the Warwicks.
“Here comes the freak,” Declan sniggered as I placed my hands on the back of the chair at their table.
The cops had arrived for breakfast; apparently, they were staying with the faculty in the staff village on the other side of the tracks, where students never go, but it’s a pain in the ass to have them here at all.
They were up at the buffet counter with their backs turned, so I was hesitant to approach the Yorkies, but I did anyway because I couldn’t hold back my frustration.
“What are your plans, girls?” I demanded to know from the golden-haired fuckers. “With her?”
“Who?” James played dumb, acting like the Hollywood jerk he was, then combed his fingers through his blond hair.
They’re basically clones of the Plath family, but dirty and messed up in the head, yet they’re good at hiding their depravity behind a mask of blond purity.
This was the family into which the Boleyns married.
“The Boleyn girl,” I rolled my eyes, losing patience, but Nicolae’s voice in my head was warning me to chill. “What’s your plan? What are you going to do with her? Care to share?”
James snorted. “Why do you care? We’re practically related to her,” he hummed and glanced skyward. “What’s her name? Adina, yeah, that’s it. Adina. We’re practically related, bro. So, you know, family business.”
“Does she know?” I asked, wondering if he had told her who he was when they exchanged numbers earlier.
She didn’t realize I was watching her, but I noticed the expression on her face, and I didn’t like it.
I didn’t want her falling for that golden-haired scum, who was probably going to use her for dishonest reasons.
He shrugged his shoulders. “What do you care? Fuck, are you the spokesperson for the Warwicks? Do they pay you well?”
I cringed and shook my head in disappointment. “That was last year's joke, Jimbo. Don’t you have an updated version of lame-ass gags rattling around in your empty head?”
“I’m surprised you’re back, Lev,” Declan sniggered, “I didn’t think Castlehill accepted students with an IQ lower than seventy-five. Did you pass last term, or did the Warwicks buy their bitch out of the fail zone?”
My fists clenched as he referred to my learning disabilities, which is why I studied music—I had an intuition for it—while reading and writing were problematic.
And he was mistaken. The Warwicks didn’t buy me out of anything.
I cheated; I paid geeks to do most of my assignments because it gave me more time to focus on my music or working on the Triumph.
I wasn’t blessed with good brains and wealth like the Warwicks, and there were moments when I wanted to quit school, but the Warwick brothers talked me out of it. They always had my back. Plucked me out of the doldrums to live under their roof, but we were not the same people.
However, his comment still hurt because it evoked feelings of shame and embarrassment.
I shouldn’t care what the Plath clones said, as they were less important than the grease under my nails.
Still, there were times, especially when people were watching, when my defenses dropped, and he managed to drive his sword right into my chest.
“Walk away,” Nicolae’s voice in my head. “They’re not worth it. We’ll plunder their frat house in a few days when they least expect it.”
Feeling the weight of eyes upon me from the students in the hall, I forced myself to pull away. Be the bigger man and walk away, until…I heard the sound of chickens clucking, and my entire body tensed.
“Don’t do it,” Nicolae’s warning voice echoed in my head as I hesitated until a burst of snickering followed, and my anger intensified. In a flash, I grabbed the chair and hurled it at James, who had that sly look on his face. That face needed a scar or two to ugly him up a bit.
The Plath clones had to dodge out of the way to avoid getting hit, but I turned my back on them and walked toward Morgana.
The only reprieve I had was that I wasn’t carrying Adina’s handgun, or I might have done something really stupid and used it.
Then I would’ve regretted it, and my life would’ve been ruined by a single moment of reckless stupidity.
We found the handgun under her mattress when we snuck into her room and searched the place, because Ez had a key. But you’d think a Boleyn would be smarter than hiding a gun under her mattress. Amateur.
I expected the Plath clones to follow me outside, seeking a fight, but they didn’t, and that was probably a good thing, since I was outnumbered. Although once I started hurling my fist, adrenaline pumping through my veins, it was hard to stop.
I stormed down the lane towards Morgana, but had a strange feeling that I had forgotten to grab my keycard before I left again. I patted my jeans pocket, hoping it was there, and maybe slipped it into my pocket without thinking, then stalled at the door when I realized I didn’t have it.
Fuck.
Begrudgingly, I make my way all the way around to the back of Morgana Hall, find a pebble on the path, then throw it at her window, hoping like fuck that she was inside.
I could still remember the vanilla scent in her bedroom and a rose soap in the shower that well…
kinda drove strong men wild. Ez was getting hot in there too and was close to jacking off on her bed until I distracted him by finding the Glock. Thank fuck.
She was supposed to be his fucking enemy, like the worst person in the entire fucking world. The family that put his father away in prison, yet the way he acted was like maybe he was getting off on it. Maybe it was a massive turn-on.
Anyway, I think Ez gave the gun to Sickle, and hopefully, he had hidden it well so their roommates don’t find it. We had hunting rifles locked in the games room, and only Sick had the key.
Her figure approached the window and opened it with a mischievous frown, and straight away, I noticed something different about her. Her hair. That’s what was different. Wow, she looked like a completely different person.
Black, wavy hair fell over her shoulders and framed her face, and I barely recognized her at first as I’d only ever seen her with her hair up in a swinging ponytail. I bet it smelled nice, vanilla and rose, just like her room.
“Yes?” she flicked me a devilish look, like she knew why I was there. Or maybe she knew that it was me in her room last night, although I don’t think she knows yet that I’m basically Warwick’s brother from a different mother. And father. At least the Warwick boys knew where their father was.
Jeezus, I swallowed as I lost my voice for a sec there because she looked so hot. “Er, I forgot my keycard…again.”
“Again?” She was going to milk this, and I didn’t blame her; in fact, I found myself entertained by her performative bluster. I bet she looked fucking great naked, wearing nothing but a smile, hair swept over her pillow.
“Yeah, I forgot to put it in my pocket,” I told her as I patted my jean pockets with my hands to double-check that I hadn’t missed it.
“Maybe you should like…” she leaned over the side of the window ledge and her tits bulged out, and mt hand naturally went to my cock over my jeans, but I had to stop myself. “Turn it into a lanyard and wear it around your neck, so you never forget it.”
“I’d rather have my eyeballs poked out than wear a lanyard,” I told her truthfully, and she snorted in laughter, which uplifted my entire body.
The black mood I was in after confronting the Plath clones vanished, replaced with a small pot of sunshine.
I wasn’t one hundred percent happy because she’s obviously not a miracle worker, but happy-ish. How did she do that?
“What is your name?” she asked, placing her elbows on the window ledge and lacing her fingers together, forcing her arms to press against her tits, and they almost escaped the t-shirt she was wearing. Fuck.
“I thought I already told you,” I replied, trying hard not to look at those tits, but fuck, where else do I look?
“You did, but I missed it. You were mumbling,” she revealed, and shrugged my shoulders.
“Well, yeah, I do mumble, especially when I’m hungover,” I stated as she was distracted by something behind me.
I glanced back to see that the Yorkies and their leeches had arrived on the field with a football and were tossing it around.
Declan, the older clone, was on Sick’s team last year, the Castlehill Kings.
I guess he’s practicing for tryouts. The last thing I needed right now was for them to notice me talking to her.
“Lev,” I replied to bring her attention back to me. “My name is Lev.”
Her rose-colored lips parted as those eyes warmed, and she looked down at me. “Lev,” she nodded as if it made sense that I was called that. “Do you know them?” She pointed to the golden-haired boys, and I didn’t need to follow her finger to know who she was referring to.
“A little,” I said, unenthused. “Are you going to open the door or what?”
“What,” she shot me some cheek. Was she flirting with me? “What would be what?”
“What?” She was doing my head in. “Look, if you don’t open the door, I’ll have no other choice but to climb up there.” I began walking towards the wall of our building as her pretty, curious gaze watched me, and I grabbed the pipe that ran down from the gutter and hoisted myself up.
“Oh my gosh, you are coming up here,” she panicked a little, flapping her hand. “Wait. No. You might break the plumbing. Head around to the front entrance, and I’ll come down to let you in.”