Shattered Oaths (Rosewater Creek #4)

PROLOGUE

NOAH

EIGHT YEARS AGO

My body thrums with electricity as I take another drink from the red solo cup in my hand.

The bitter liquid burns as it glides down my throat, warming my blood and making my head swim.

I have no fucking idea what I’m drinking, all I know is it tastes like diluted piss, but I couldn’t give a shit about that so long as it gets the job done.

Music pulsates from the overly large speakers in the corner of the room as people dressed in every kind of Halloween costume dance and grind against each other in every available space.

A zombie cheerleader straddles the lap of her matching zombie jock while Pennywise sucks on the neck of a Playboy bunny next to them and I make a mental note to double check all the bedrooms upstairs remain off-limits to the ever-growing crowd of horny teenagers.

The stench of liquor, cheap perfume and sweat permeates the air, turning the alcohol in my stomach sour as I search the room for a familiar face.

I haven’t a fucking clue who half these fuckers are. I’m not even sure Killian knows a lot of them and it’s his party. Speaking of Killian, I haven’t seen him in at least an hour now. Not since his girlfriend, Daisy, showed up and dragged him away.

I’d bet every dollar in my pocket that he’s probably balls deep in said girlfriend somewhere in this house at this very moment despite my earlier speech about no sex in the bedrooms.

Must be nice.

I throw back the rest of my god-awful drink and grimace as I look down into the empty cup. Yup. Still tastes like shit.

Tossing my cup in the trashcan in the corner, I twist and turn, manoeuvring my way through the crowd toward the kitchen in search of something that tastes a little less like piss.

A few people I do recognise from school nod at me in greeting as I pass and I nod back, not bothering to stop and talk. It’s hot as hell in here and I just want to get a real drink and get outside for some fresh air.

The crowd thins out slightly as I push my way into the kitchen and make a beeline for my dad’s stash.

And yes, I know what you might be thinking.

I thought you said this was Killian’s party.

It is. But it’s being held at my house, because unfortunately, Killian’s mom isn’t the most welcoming of people.

My parents are out of town on a business trip with my eldest brother Hunter, and Grayson, the middle child of the three of us, is at a bull-riding event for the weekend with his best friend Rueben, leaving me alone with this big ole’ empty farmhouse.

Foolish on their part, if you ask me. They should know me better by now.

With Killian’s birthday falling on the first of November, and it being the weekend of Halloween, it only made sense to combine the two and throw him a Halloween themed birthday party.

It couldn’t have worked out any better.

I grab a bottle of whiskey and a glass, pouring two fingers into it and throwing it back. I repeat the action twice more before deciding to forgo the glass altogether.

I turn and lean against the kitchen counter; my legs crossed at the ankles and drag my gaze around the room.

A blonde dressed as a slutty devil eyes me from across the kitchen and I raise a brow at her in challenge, my tongue darting out to catch a drop of whiskey on my lips.

The girl whispers something to her friend, who nods at her, before making her way towards me, a sly smile climbing up her heavily made-up face.

The moment she reaches me I notice the glassiness in her eyes and my earlier excitement quickly dissipates.

She’s wasted.

Far too wasted for my liking.

“Hey, handsome,” the girl slurs, attempting to be sexy but failing.

“Hey,” I respond, lifting the bottle to my lips and sucking down a mouthful of the dark liquid.

“What are you supposed to be?” she asks, her eyes roaming my body appreciatively.

I look down at my all black assemble and combat boots before pointing at the black and white Ghostface mask resting on top of my head. “The mask didn’t give me away?”

She opens her mouth with a response, but I don’t hear what she says because raised voices from the hallway outside the kitchen catch my attention.

The girls – whose name I still haven’t gotten – friend from earlier is standing off with a small blonde.

A small blonde I know well.

The friend, who is dressed as the angel to the devil standing beside me, towers over Bella as she says something that draws oohs from the small crowd gathered around them. It doesn’t take a genius to know that whatever the girl just said was an insult.

Bella’s face flames red with embarrassment before she quickly turns on her heel and takes the stairs two at a time.

The inebriated female next to me flicks her hair over her shoulder with a huff that draws my attention back to her. “That girl is such a drama queen.”

I frown at her. “Come again?”

She rolls her eyes. “Bella. She puts on this hard-done-by, innocent girl act, when we all know she’s really a secret slut.

It’s surprising, really.” The girl cocks her head, her eyes narrowing in Bella’s direction.

“She’s not even pretty.” Waving a dismissive hand in the air, she turns her focus back to me and steps closer. “But enough about her. Where were we?”

My head rears back so far, I almost give myself whiplash.

“Well, aren’t you a bitch?” My question takes her by surprise, and she falters, her too-thick brows dipping low.

I take a menacing step towards her, disgust and anger clear on my face as I say, “that one sentence alone just made you the ugliest girl in this room. And to answer your last question… you and your friend were just leaving.”

Her mouth drops open, but I don’t stick around for her response. I swipe the bottle of whiskey from the kitchen counter and stalk off in the direction Bella went in.

As I reach the top of the stairs, I scan the open-plan hallway only to find all the doors closed.

One by one, I knock on them before poking my head in and scanning each room.

When I come up empty each time – thankfully not finding anyone fucking in any of the rooms – I move to the last door, which happens to be the one to my bedroom, before tapping my knuckles against it twice, opening it ever so slightly and peeking my head in. “Bells?”

Bella’s head snaps towards me and she quickly wipes at her face; attempting to hide her obvious sadness. I slip into my bedroom and close the door behind me. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. What are you doing up here? You should be downstairs enjoying the party.”

Bella stands from the bed, turning her whole body in my direction and I can’t stop my eyes from dragging the length of her.

She’s dressed as Harley Quinn, her blonde waves pulled into two high ponytails on either side of her head, the ends painted red and blue.

Her eyelids are the same, one red, the other blue and smudged down her face slightly.

She’s drawn a black heart just below one of her eyes and there’s something written on her lower cheek, but I can’t make it out from across the room.

A white, leather collar is wrapped around her slender neck with gold letters attached to the front, spelling out the word PUDDIN.

I make the mistake of letting my eyes fall further and immediately regret it when I take in her costume.

Or lack thereof. Her t-shirt is loose around the top, falling off one shoulder and is cropped just below her breasts, leaving her tanned, flat stomach exposed.

Her shorts – if you can even call them that – sit low on her hips and ride high on her thighs, only a small scrap of sparkly red and blue fabric covering the section in between.

And don’t even get me fucking started on the fishnet tights.

My mouth goes dry.

She’s your best friend’s little sister.

Your best friend’s off-limits little sister, I remind myself.

I swallow thickly, tearing my eyes away from her and moving across my bedroom. “Wanted to check you were okay. Come sit with me,” I take a seat on the edge of my bed and pat the spot beside me.

“We should get back down there,” she protests.

“Just for a minute, Bells.”

Bella looks between me and the spot beside me before blowing out a harsh breath and taking my invitation. I throw my arm around her shoulder, pull her into my side and hold out the bottle of whiskey in offering. “You want some?”

She eyes me wearily, likely because I’d never normally hand her alcohol, especially in the presence of her over-protective big brother, but he’s not here and she looks like she could use the strong drink.

She still hasn’t taken the offering, so I tilt the bottle in her direction again as she debates whether to take it or not.

“I won’t tell Killian, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Bella nibbles on her red-painted lip for a minute before finally accepting the bottle.

I watch in fascination as she lifts it to her mouth, her lips wrapping around the same spot mine just were and gulps the dark liquid.

Her throat works against her white leather choker as she swallows, and I hold back a groan, images of my hand gripping that exact spot as she swallows my cock assaulting me.

What the fuck?

Where in the ever-loving fuck did that thought come from?

I need to stop looking at her.

I shouldn’t be thinking about Killian’s little sister in this way. I especially shouldn’t be thinking these things when she is clearly vulnerable right now.

But I can’t seem to stop.

I don’t know if it’s the alcohol thrumming through my veins, my obvious lack of action lately, or the outfit she’s wearing, but I’m seeing Bella through totally different eyes right now.

I no longer see the annoying little girl that would tag along with us everywhere we went. I’m not seeing the small, innocent girl dressed in cut-off overalls who would pout whenever we neglected to invite her anywhere.