Chapter 2
Emerson~
T here was only one other time that I could remember ever feeling this kind of rage, and it’d been the day that I’d found out that my father had killed my mother. They’d already arrested him when I’d found out, so he’d been safe behind bars, far away from me. However, all I could remember was feeling so much rage at the fact that I couldn’t get to him. I’d wanted to beat him to death with my bare hands, and I was feeling that level of violence now.
Not just because of Bailey, either.
I’d spent my entire life under the violent hands of my father, so these spoiled, entitled, rich assholes were out of their minds if they thought that they could intimidate or bully me. Just as much as Bailey’s fake ass didn’t want me here, I didn’t want to be here. I had begged my aunt to just leave me in the trailer until I turned eighteen in a matter of weeks, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Suddenly, she’d been attacked with a case of human conscience, and she’d wanted to make it right by my mother, though I had informed her that it’d been too late, and I hadn’t minced words, either. I’d told Aunt Constance that her only sister had died alone, believing that she’d been the trash that her family had made sure to make her feel like. Constance had blanched, but it seemed like the harsher that my words had been, the more determined that she’d been to ease her conscience. So, I’d gone from poor, needy, trailer park trash to rich, privileged, upper-crust teen in a matter of a week. Still, just because my clothes were brand-new…well, that didn’t mean that I was. So, if these people wanted to test me, I was more than ready.
I was halfway across the green, rich, manicured lawn when I felt a hand latch onto my arm, then whip me around, and I knew that I was in trouble when I looked up into the dark brown eyes of that asshole, Ramsey. My skin burned from where his hand wrapped around my bicep, and I wasn’t sure if it was from rage or something else. Even as furious as I was, I couldn’t deny that the boy was hot as hell. Even his name had been created to be screamed out in bed.
Ramsey’s hair was dark brown-a bit darker than my own shade-and it was cut short on the sides, but it was still long enough up top to run your fingers through. His brows were thick and arched, and they sat above a pair of keen brown eyes. His lashes were long and full, and they gave him that bedroom eyes look. There was also a scar that started at the arch of his right brow, then slashed through his eye until it stopped at the edge of his nose.
It made him look like Satan in the flesh.
As for the rest of his gorgeousness, his nose was straight and perfectly centered in between two sharp, high, smooth cheekbones. His lips were full and sensual, and his jaw was strong and pronounced. Fitted all together, his face was pure masculine perfection.
In addition to that face of his, Ramsey was wearing a formfitting, expensive, blue Henley shirt that showcased his wide shoulders, bulging arms, and chiseled chest. His waist tapered down to his hips, and you could tell that he had a six-pack decorating his abs. He was tall, and his body was held erect by a pair of legs made up of powerful thighs and calves. He was also wearing jeans that actually fit him, and a pair of sneakers that probably cost more than the rent on our trailer back home.
Ramsey was sex on a stick, and he knew it.
Too bad I wanted to spit in that perfect face of his.
I tried to wrench my arm out of his hold. “Let go of me,” I hissed.
However, instead of letting me go, he yanked me towards him, and even though all my focus was on him, my brain was registering the gathering of people behind him. Butterflies took up residence in the pit of my stomach, and adrenaline coursed through my body, preparing me for whatever was about to come.
Fucking. Bring. It.
These people could jump me, and they could all join in on beating me unconscious, but I wouldn’t stop fighting until that unconsciousness claimed me. What these arrogant assholes didn’t realize was that I could take an ass beating. After all, I’d been doing it since I was six. I had survived a grown man’s hands on me, so these teenage bitches were nothing.
Ramsey peered down at me. “And just where in the hell do you think you’re going? I didn’t give you permission to leave,” he said, almost shocking me out of my anger.
Who in the hell did he think that he was to talk to a person like that?
I squared up against him, not caring about his army of pampered pussies standing behind him. “I don’t recall asking you for permission,” I spat.
His grip tightened on my arm, then he leaned down into my face. “Newsflash, Charity; you need my permission to do anything around here.”
I knew that he was trying to get a rise out of me by calling me Charity, but what he didn’t understand was that I was way past sticks and stones. Growing up poor, you were called names all the time, so there were no jokes that I hadn’t already heard, and there weren’t any insults that hadn’t already been thrown my way.
This kid had no idea who he was dealing with.
I stopped struggling to break free from his hold, because the more that I struggled unsuccessfully, the weaker that I appeared. I also wasn’t stupid or completely reckless. While I could take a punch with the best of them, I knew that I couldn’t actually beat him in an actual fight. I mean, c’mon, he was twice my size and probably had four times the strength. I just knew that I wouldn’t go down easily.
I didn’t let my gaze waver though. I looked him in the eye when I whispered up in his face, “You might own and lead all these pure, white, simple flock of sheep that you surround yourself with, but I’m not one of your sheep. I don’t need your permission for shit, nor will I ever ask for it.”
His other hand reached up, and now he had both my arms encased in his punishing grip. Ramsey shook me a bit, and I could swear that the look in his eyes was not one of hate. It frighteningly looked closer to lust than anything else. However, I didn’t need this boy to look at me with lust. I was so used to violence in my life that he might just be the guy that could give it to me how I’d sickeningly fantasized about.
His smirk was evil and full of malice. “You have no clue of all the ways that I can make your life hell, Emerson.” My knees almost weakened as he rasped out my name. It sounded sinful off his lips. “Your fight, your backbone as you’re going up against something that you can’t even fathom, has my dick harder than it’s ever been, baby.”
I growled at him.
It was either that or let him fuck me on the lawn outside in front of everyone.
His threats were turning me on, and if that wasn’t sick, then I didn’t know what was. I also wasn’t a na?ve girl, so I knew that my sick fascinations stemmed from my abusive father. All the talk shows and all the self-help books told you that the only way to overcome your demons was to find a nice guy; that you had to believe yourself worthy enough to belong with a decent, hardworking, caring man that would treat you kindly and with respect.
The only problem with that advice was that I knew myself, and I knew myself well. I equated niceness with weakness, and I despised weakness. I also knew that I had to be careful because there was a real risk of becoming Ramsey’s mouse to his cat in this fucked-up game that he’d started.
Everyone surrounding us was so quiet that all you could hear was the wind dancing within the branches and leaves of the neighborhood trees. Everyone was straining to hear the words that we were spewing at each other, and it was rather creepy.
Nevertheless, hearing his words, it didn’t matter that I was a virgin. I would not let him get the upper hand by bringing sex into this, so I stepped to him until my body was flushed with his. I could actually feel the heat and hardness from his dick pressing up against my stomach, and I was instantly soaking wet with it because I was sick in the head.
“As impressive as you might think your dick is, Ramsey, mindless rutting into my pussy, with no idea of what you’re doing, just doesn’t do it for me.” His jaw tightened, and he looked like he wanted to snap my neck. Smirking, I jerked my head towards the crowd. “Why don’t you go back to your sheep? You tell them it feels good, and because they can’t think for themselves, they’ll believe you.” I lifted myself onto my tiptoes until the breath from my lips touched his. “I prefer guys who can actually fuck, Shepherd.”
My audacity had rendered him so shocked that I was finally able to break away from his hold. I turned my back on him, then did my best not to run down the street like a coward. However, my steps faltered slightly when I reached the sidewalk, then heard Ramsey shouting my name.
“Emerson!”
Ignoring His Highness, I kept walking, and I knew that I was sealing my fate with every step that I took, but I didn’t care. What these cookie cutter rich kids didn’t realize was that I was still full of rage from what my father had done to my mother. With him being locked up and out of my reach, I hadn’t been able to expel all the pain and rage that still consumed me. That same rage had also just grown, and grown, and grown with all the new changes the murder had forced upon me. Not to mention all the years of abuse before my mother’s murder.
I was mad at my mother for staying with my abusive asshole of a father. I was mad at my father for every breath that he could still take. I was mad at Constance for forcing me to move.
I. Was. Mad. At. Everything .
So, if Windsor Academy and its King thought that they were going to push me around or break me down, they were sorely mistaken. I was looking forward to whatever Ramsey would bring my way because I had so much rage that I was ready for a fight.
I wanted a fight.
No.
I needed a fight.
So, bring it on motherfuckers.