TWO #3
I knew she was seventeen, but standing there in oversized grey joggers and a white tee, fresh from make-up, she looked untouched, almost childlike.
I would have said that my conscience wouldn’t let me go near a girl who looked that young, but from my body’s reaction to her, it didn’t care.
My inner predator was drowning out my morals.
Frustration coiled in my gut, but it was unnecessary. There was less than a year between us, which almost made her an adult, just like me.
But she wasn’t like me, or anyone else I knew.
Amelie appeared delicate, breakable and far removed from the female vipers at school.
Her kind of thing wouldn’t survive in my world.
The elitist pricks I went to high school with would eat her alive, irrespective of not knowing what her father had done.
Of course, I could allow her to tag along with my crowd, make it easier on her.
I was the most feared guy in school; my word was law.
Even the Teachers looked at the floor when I walked by, and students held their breath.
I was a Rook. We were worshipped, and we took shit from no one.
But if I looked out for her and then they found out who she was, things could become awkward for me.
And could I really be bothered when I had exams and other shit going on?
That was a big fat, nope. Irrespective of my hormonal needs, at school, Amelie Thorn would have to go it alone.
Tightening my grip on the railing, I leaned my head forward to get a better look.
Amelie’s lips twitched as if she was attempting to smile, but my face felt numb, and I couldn’t respond in kind.
I continued to look down at her for another simmering moment before she glanced away.
I had clearly unnerved her, and I hated the thought of giving off such a cold first impression.
The girl had been through hell, Cameron had said, and I wasn’t that much of a bastard.
Well, not straight away. I’d give her at least a couple of days to settle before I showed her that she wasn’t welcome in my space.
Why so cruel, you may ask?
Because we had been there so many times before, and it always ended the same way.
Vanessa’s passion for charity cases had to stop.
At least this one was related and not some stranger off the street.
Last year, we’d housed a boy from the Ukraine, and he’d almost burned the house down.
Then there was the time Vanessa adopted a dog with one ear that tried to bite my sister, Maisy.
Not fucking acceptable. My stepmother brought dangerous entities into our home, and it had to stop.
As I watched Amelie speaking with Cameron, the girl lifted out a mile. There was no way she would fit in with our lifestyle, no matter how beautiful she was; looks alone did not buy you a seat at the Rook table. Maybe I could make her into my slave? I grinned at the juvenile thought.
You’re such an arsehole, Rook.
I’d managed to convince my father that the girl would be more comfortable in the house.
He’d been surprised by my suggestion, asking where else they would have put her.
She was a flight risk during the first few days, he’d said.
So, they had to keep her close. And in that moment, I realised that Jessa had made up the whole pool house thing.
The clever little witch. It was Friday now, and that lie had been festering in my gut all week.
I still had to retaliate, and I would, eventually.
I never got my own back too quickly. That was stupid, as people saw that shit coming.
Nope, I enjoyed the wary looks my twin gave me over breakfast. She had a debt to pay, and I always came to collect.
“Kieran, Jessica, come down please!” my father’s voice boomed up the stairs, when I was standing right there. Cameron then said something to Amelie, then took the blue hoodie she clutched in one hand and hung it on the hooks by the door.
Jessa suddenly bounded past me like a puppy pleased its master was home. She held Maisy in her arms.
“Kierwan!” my little sister called excitedly as they sailed past.
I watched, refusing to move from my place by the balcony. It gave you an entire view of our hallway, the perfect place to lord it over people.
Flexing my shoulders, I kept my eye on Amelie, taking in the stiff way she held herself with her arms wrapped around her body. As she saw Jessa with Maisy, her face lit up at the sight of the bundle that was my half-sister.
I couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, but as Jessa lowered Maisy to the floor, she charged and grabbed onto Amelie’s legs.
“Gosh, you’re so pretty, like a Disney pwincess!
” she squeaked with glee, her excited voice echoing up the walls.
It was a sound that was much too bright for our house.
Seeing that pure, untainted bundle of my blood clinging to the "stray" did something to my pulse as Amelie cracked. The shy, hesitant smile she’d failed to give me bloomed as she reached down, her fingers grazing Maisy’s fuzzy brown hair.
That tenderness felt out of place coming from a stranger.
I knew that I should have felt pleased that she’d greeted my sister with such warmth, but I didn’t.
A flare of jealousy shot through my chest. That smile belonged to me, or it belonged to no one.
Whose smile are we talking about? My inner monologue questioned.
As my face hardened and that muscle in my jaw started to tick, I braced my arms on the railing again and glared. Jessa was jabbering away with Amelie nodding here and there, but saying very little.
Fucking turncoat, my twin had done nothing but moan about Amelie joining us for the past week, and now she was all over the girl.
Amelie must have sensed I was still standing there, as a flush had appeared on one side of her slim throat.
Interesting. She either feared me or was affected by my good looks and stellar physique.
Both of those reactions served my purpose just fine.
Maisy had now released the girl's legs from her polar bear hug and was chuntering away.
Her face was so animated, and my eyes narrowed as Amelie crouched down so that they were on the same level.
A fresh spike of resentment flared through me.
What was odd was that I couldn't tell who that ill feeling was for—the sister whose attention she was stealing, or the girl who looked far too good to be in our hallway.
My blood felt thick, heavy with a depraved, thumping heat that made my boxers feel too tight. I was depraved. I had to be for having such thoughts about a girl I hadn’t even spoken to.
Jessa looked up and waved me down, but I ignored her.
This forced my father’s gaze to snap up to mine.
He wasn’t impressed that I had decided to stay put and not greet the new member of the pack.
I imagined there was part of him that didn’t expect me to, considering how vocal I’d been about Amelie Thorn joining us.
“Kieran?” his tone was raised so that I would easily hear him. His voice was less of a question and more of a demand for obedience. All members of the Rook family, barring my older brother’s eyes, landed on my face. Fuck knew where Lincoln was at.
And once I had everyone’s attention, I purposefully dragged my gaze over Amelie’s tight little body.
My appraisal was slow from the tatty second-hand sneakers she wore to the roots of her hair in a look that said it all.
It was lazy and suggestive, intended to provoke a reaction.
That pink stain on her skin started to spread further across her throat, and I imagined how my fingers would look against that blemish.
Fuck she was sweet; her entire appearance seemed to tick preference boxes I never knew I had.
My father scowled. His expression was full of the promise of another fucking lecture later, and Vanessa made a move to usher our ‘guest’ into the kitchen like a prized lamb. Before she turned away, I saw Amelie’s eyes widen.
Maybe taking a needy stray into our household wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.
In all truth, I’d been as bored as fuck recently.
I needed a new toy to play with, something to drown out the suffocating mundanity of high school.
Amelie could help with my plans. Maybe even scratch more than one itch. And God knew, I had plenty of those.
As the kitchen door swung shut behind her, I finally let a smile touch my lips. The game hadn't even started, and I already knew exactly how I was going to win.
Backing away, leaving the welcoming party to it, I started to hatch out my plan. Let them play house. I would do what I always did best and play God.
I was aware of what they said about a rebel without a cause. Well, this rebel now had one. It was around five feet tall with silky blonde hair and wide innocent blue eyes.
Amelie Thorn was a saint in a den of sinners. Everything about the girl begged me to ruin her.
And who was I to say no to a lady?