Chapter 34 Salem
CHAPTER 34
SALEM
She crumpled the note in her hand, then tore it for good measure, letting the pieces fall to the floor.
Another pair of hands came to her waist, another
clean pair, another she didn’t know, pulling her back into a moving body, and she was done with strange men thinking they could touch her like that.
She pulled herself out of it just as someone shrieked behind her, and she turned to see the man who’d been holding her on his knees in the middle of the dance floor, a furious, ferocious beast of a man hovering over him.
People created a wide circle around them, and the music got cut off.
Her gaze went from the tattooed hands that she knew like the backs of hers, now holding the other man’s, up his arms exposed by the folded sleeves of the shirt he was wearing, up his strong neck and rugged face, and halted on his mercurial, pissed-off eyes.
Eyes that were trained on her.
He was mad at her? Whatever for?
He pulled his hand back, landing a punch right on the man’s nose, a spray of blood gushing out on impact. The guy screamed as people gasped.
Then Caz took out the pencil that was always on him, and put it right on the guy’s jugular.
“Come within ten feet of her and I will put you in the ground. Got that?”
Violence. Rage. So much of it in his voice, and knowing what she knew about him, she knew he was capable of it too.
“Yeah, man,” the guy warbled out. “Fuck.”
Caz let him go and he crumpled to the floor. Then he turned and headed straight at her, a lord of vengeance, a god of death, a beast of brutality.
Salem stood her ground and tilted her face up. He stopped just on the edge of her personal space, his eyes roving over her form, before he bent and put his shoulder in her stomach, throwing her over his shoulder.
A shriek left her as she clutched the back of his shirt for stability, though he spread his palm on her ass to keep her dress from rising and keep her from moving.
“Are you crazy?” she shouted at him as he began to walk to the exit.
“For you.” He smacked her ass. “A thousand percent.”
He stopped for a second. “Do you girls want a ride back?”
Salem’s face flushed at the realization that her friends were witnessing this, this barbaric, primitive move the bastard had pulled on her, through absolutely no fault of hers.
“Um.” She heard Aditi hesitate, but Melissa accepted.
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
“Collect your coats and follow me,” he told them, and continued carrying her out. The cold night air made her shiver, and he distractedly rubbed the top of her thighs while waiting for her friends to join them. Once they did, he moved—to where his car was, she assumed.
And the entire time, she stewed.
First, how the hell had he found her? And second, how dare he?
A few minutes of walking later, he suddenly turned her right-side up, the blood in her head rushing down her body, making her unsteady on her feet as she weaved in place, holding his body for support. He opened the passenger side door for her silently and she slid in, aware of her friends getting in at the back.
He got in behind the wheel, and in silence, they drove back. Salem looked out the window at the passing scenery as Aditi broke the silence and made small talk with Caz, Melissa joining in as they talked about art and random stuff. Salem listened but kept her head turned aside all the way back, until they reached Mortimer, the town, then the university parking, where they all got out.
The girls hugged Salem goodnight, thanked Caz, and left them alone.
Salem began to walk out of the parking lot, crossing the street and going in the gates without a word to him, all the while aware of him following her. She didn’t want to be in close proximity to him, not right then, so she turned and headed to the cliff, hoping against hope he would let her be.
Of course, he didn’t.
“Leave me alone,” she hissed at him, moving as fast as she could on her block heels to the cliffside.
He didn’t listen, not until she turned and poked a finger into his pec, the hard muscle bending her finger instead. “You had no right.”
His own anger, much more palpable than hers, flared. “I have every right. Need I remind you who’s inside you every night? What name you scream when you strangle my cock? Whose hands are on every inch of your skin?”
Salem took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. “It seems like you’re the one who needs the reminder. I’m with you, you idiot. So, what the hell was that?”
He took a step closer to her, grabbing her by the waist, exactly where the guy’s hands had been. “That was me getting pissed, Salem,” he told her seriously. “You ask me if I’m crazy, and I am. I’m crazy about you and I’m crazy for you. Seeing you that close to another guy? You’re lucky I didn’t fuck you right there in his blood.”
Salem was breathing heavily by the time he was done talking, the image he was painting in her mind somehow arousing her, her high emotions only aiding that. She glared at him for a beat, then another, while he glared at her.
And then, as though in sync, they reached for each other, pulling each other close at the same time that their lips crashed against each other, teeth gnashing, tongues fighting out their anger. His hands dipped under the neck of her dress and pinched her nipples hard, and she cupped his length in retaliation, biting his lip until his skin broke.
He pulled back, a deranged smile on his face as he leaned and smeared the drop of blood on hers, one of his hands going under her dress, plunging two fingers inside her.
“Mine,” he growled against her mouth, and the sound rumbled from his chest to hers, brushing her aching nipples and heavy breasts, and setting her on fire like he always did.
She shook her head, even in her haze. “Not yours. Not until you stop keeping secrets.”
His fingers moved inside her, as though in punishment. “Not even if I’m doing it for you?”
She’d thought of that. “You don’t get to decide that. I won’t be yours otherwise.”
His eyes darkened. He pushed her down on the ground, laying her so close to the edge of the cliff her neck could feel the incline of it. Then he pushed her legs up, shoved the soaked panties to the side, and slammed inside her, holding her steady so she didn’t fall off.
Salem loved the feeling of him sliding in, sliding home, rewiring, rewriting, recalibrating the association of this cliff to her memories, her knowledge, her dreams.
The danger added another rush to her blood, the closeness to the edge both in and out making her cling to him as he fucked her, their anger mixing together and coming together explosively as the fact that he was giving her something visceral in a place of death penetrated her. A tear slid down her cheek, an odd sort of catharsis happening inside her that she couldn’t explain to herself, her emotional core shifting and moving and holding on to him.
“You.” He thrust inside her. “Will always be mine. No matter what secrets you keep, no matter what secrets I keep. There won’t ever be another for you or for me.”
She shook her head, groaning in pleasure, almost giving in to the argument and stopping herself. “I refuse… to accept secrets. I want all of it or nothing. No in-between. Not anymore.”
He pulled out of her, flipping her so she was on her knees, her dress ruined and hair disheveled, the view in front of her taking her breath away as she held the ground to stay safe, feeling him plunge into her again, only his hands on her hips keeping her from flying off, only his strength making her survive.
Right on the tail of that thought came his fingers on her clit, and she felt herself come, panting as he came inside her, neither of them having lasted more than a few minutes.
She heard the wind and the sea and her blood in her ears, his breathing heavy behind her as he pulled out of her and tugged her away from the edge, falling to the ground.
Salem sat up, adjusting her dress and wrapping her fallen coat around her, and looked out at the view. He leaned back on his elbows, looking up at the sky instead. They both caught their breath and calmed their heartbeats, the quickie doing exactly what it needed to, letting their anger and annoyance out enough for them to have a much-needed conversation.
“I know you and Baron are up to something,” Salem began after a few minutes of silence, keeping her eyes on the dark sea.
“Sometimes, I wish you weren’t this astute. It’s difficult keeping things from you.”
She took his words as the compliment they were, and waited. She had stated her stance on this and given him an opening. If he didn’t take it and didn’t trust her, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the idea.
“I’m not supposed to tell you any of this,” he started. “Pact of trust?”
Salem gave a nod. “You know I won’t share it.”
“I know. I’ll tell you some things, but I can’t tell you everything, not yet. You’ll have to trust me on that.”
She peeked a glance at him, he was still looking up. Could she?
She swallowed, knowing in her heart of hearts that she already did. “Okay.”
He relaxed slightly. “You know the legacy group both Baron and I are a part of, right?”
Salem nodded, knowing he could see it in his periphery.
“The society was created centuries ago, when the first generation of legacy students came to Mortimer,” he said, his voice low. “The idea was to network, make the exclusive group even more powerful, be the kingmakers of the world.”
Salem indicated for him to continue.
“In the beginning, the group had been small, but a structure was established within the circle,” he told her. “Three factions—core council, remaining members, and fresh recruits. Proposals would be brought before the council and voted upon. Favors exchanged. Civilized discussions with dinners. You know the type. There were a lot of… questionable rituals in the beginning, but those times were different, and thankfully they were done away with.”
Salem pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, turning a bit to be able to see him better as he spoke.
“Things were going great.”
“Until?” she asked.
“Until some of the recruits about twenty years ago got more… radical ideas.”
Salem felt her heart begin to pound. “What do you mean?”
He turned his neck to sear her with an indecipherable look. “Some recruits felt that the initiation rituals were too basic, not hardcore enough to induce a feeling of loyalty to the group. They felt that power wasn’t incentive enough, they needed a deterrent too.”
Salem frowned, something from one of her classes coming back to her. “They wanted the group identity more than the individual.”
He huffed a dry laugh. “Yeah.”
One thing didn’t make sense. “Why, though? Why after so many years of existing peacefully?”
“Good question,” he complimented her. “One of the members threatened to go public about the society if the council denied his request for something.”
“And did they?”
“Yes.”
Oh shit. “What did he do?”
Caz sat up, mirroring her pose, with his arms around his knees. “He got the file ready. Was about to go public when the society… contained him.”
Contained him? “How?”
He just gave her a look and she knew. They’d killed him. Damn.
“And my father was a part of this society?” she asked, just to confirm.
A brisk nod.
She inhaled, wrapping her mind around the new information, getting back on track. “Okay, so the radicals wanted to add a deterrent?”
“Some of the older, outdated rituals that had been a part of the society in the beginning.”
“For the initiation?”
He nodded, but remained otherwise silent. Salem pondered his words. What could this be? Did he know?
“Have you been initiated?” she asked, wondering what the deterrent was.
He shook his head. “Not yet. Both Baron and I will be initiated later. They test the new recruits for a year now before initiating them. It’s a very hush-hush process.”
Okay, so all of this made sense.
“What about the deaths?” She asked the question bugging her mind. “Are they a part of… whatever this ritual is?”
He shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of yet. Our society likes to stay secret, so it doesn’t make sense for them to be going on a killing spree, now does it?”
He was making sense too. It was all so confusing.
She looked out at the sea again, wondering for the hundredth time what the hell was happening in this place, when suddenly she remembered something that had slipped her mind in the rush of her emotions.
“Is there another society at play here?” She knew he would recognize the name.
He turned his neck to face her. “Why do you ask?”
“Just tell me.” She needed to be sure.
“I can’t say for sure. Why?” His eyes suddenly sharpened on her. “What’s going on?”
Salem took a deep breath and told him about the masked man and the note, and the fact that it’d had her username. She told him that Baron knew her username, but that the man in the club had been shorter, so she was certain it hadn’t been him. By the time she was done, he was tense, his body rigid like a statue.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” he spit out, the territorial, barbaric beast from earlier ever-present. She didn’t think it was ever going to go away. She might have to make her peace with it.
She put a hand on his arm, rubbing it softly, saying the one thing she knew would get him out of it. “I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.”
He nodded, swiftly standing up.
She looked up as he bent and picked her up again, coat and heels and all, this time with a hand under her knees and another under her shoulders, giving her more stability as he began to silently move toward the residences and their room.
Salem leaned on him, letting him take her home, trusting him to keep her safe.
A solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you—and, kindling in pure, powerful ?ame, fuses you and me in one.
—Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre