Page 5

Chapter 4

Trey

In front of the hockey house, a puck bunny waits for her invite. At least until she spots me coming and spins to head in the opposite direction, brown hair swinging. Guess she’s not brave enough to try her luck with the Devils yet.

Inside, Rockefeller blasts metal from his phone while he shovels cereal into his mouth from a bowl damn near overflowing with milk.

Of the Devils my father has forced me to live with, Rockefeller is the most annoying. Vanderbilt the most insufferable, Valentine the most irritable, and Ashby the most tolerable, only because I still haven’t heard the guy say a fucking word.

Novak stayed here last semester. This is where the best players on the team live, and according to my father, where the captain of the Devils belongs.

I’d rather live in a fucking shack alone than with these assholes.

“Where’ve you been?” Rockefeller asks.

I halt in my tracks. None of them has ever cared to know where I go or what I’m up to. “Getting blown by a good girl on her knees.”

He grins. “Lucky son of a bitch.”

Don’t know why he’s acting like we’re buddies, but I shrug it off and head for my room. Whatever he’s up to, I’m not in the mood. He’ll spoil the high from the best blowjob of my life. Not that she did much—swirled her tongue around my cock, tasted and swallowed me until I took her the way I craved. The way we both did. I didn’t need her to do anything. Just open that pretty mouth and take my cock like the demonic little psycho she is.

When she ran from me, the blood pumped straight to my cock, the agony from her knee colliding with my groin forgotten. I made sure she paid for that one. But I didn’t expect seeing her tears and saliva mix and drip down her chin to turn me on as much as it did. Once I had her head pinned against that tree and fucked her mouth like I was trying to bruise her throat, it took every ounce of willpower not to come in three seconds.

I resist grinning at the memory. Juliet on her knees before me. Her tongue gliding up my cock. Her gags and violent lurches with every hard thrust. Her promise to get revenge.

Can’t wait to see what she has planned for me. I can’t think of a single game I’d rather play more.

Rockefeller follows me to my room, and I grind my teeth. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

I briefly shut my eyes and force a slow breath out through my nose so I don’t punch him in his stupid face. He lingers while I unlock my door and head inside, then peeks into the room while keeping one foot beyond the threshold. His eyes dart over the ceiling and walls like he’s bracing for them to cave in.

“Dude, what’s your deal?”

He grins. “You might’ve had a visitor earlier.”

“Like who?”

“Let’s just call her a . . . beloved psycho.”

Only one girl who would dare to step foot in this house could fit that description. Either one of the Devils let my little demon inside or she broke in.

My cock throbs in my jeans, already aching for her again. Blood pulses through my veins at the image of her inching open my bedroom window and crawling inside. What did she do in here? Take or plant something? I didn’t think this girl could pique my curiosity more than she already has, but now I’m dying to know everything about her.

I search the room, waiting for a trap to spring up. But there aren’t any mouse traps or rotten banana peels. Nothing on the desk or in my dresser or closet or shoes. Nothing?—

Until I lift the sheet on my bed. A massive tarantula scuttles to my pillow.

I grin and lay my hand down until he crawls into my palm and I scoop him up.

“What is it?” Rockefeller calls.

When I turn to show him the spider, he jumps, eyes going wide. “Oh hell no!”

He slams the door, shutting me and my new pet in my room while I laugh. “I think I’ll name you Fluffy. You’re my new pal now, huh?” I slip him back into the container she must’ve transported him in. I’ll get him some better shit soon.

If she thinks a tarantula is enough to scare me, she’s going to really need to step up her game.

From the other side of my door, Rockefeller shouts, “Did you kill it?”

“I’m not killing it! He’s my new pet.”

“You’re both crazy!” he calls, footsteps fading as he gets as far away from Fluffy as he can.

“Exactly,” I murmur to Fluffy, watching him scuttle around his home looking for a place to hide. “That’s what I like about us.”

Tonight wasn’t enough. I need more of Juliet Hayes. A lot more.

In the darkness, the bedroom door creaks open. My stomach twists into a nauseating knot, heat warming me until the blanket becomes an insufferable cocoon.

The familiar shuffle of flats. She slips them off at the edge of my bed as she does every night before the mattress dips under her weight.

I pretend to be asleep. I always pretend to be asleep. It’s never enough to make her go away. I just want her to go away.

“Trey.” Her whisper makes bile rise in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, willing the monster in the dark to disappear. “You forgot your goodnight kiss.”

No. No, no, no. I don’t want her slimy lipstick on my mouth. On my neck. On all the places she isn’t supposed to be kissing me.

Her cold hand grazes my cheek like a ghost’s. I dare a frantic glance at the door she closed behind her. But my father isn’t coming to save me, and my mother is dead.

She slips her frozen hand down, ice spilling over my spine. “Give me a kiss.”

I lurch awake, heart pounding and back coated in sweat. All these years later and I still want to puke my guts up at the memory of that woman. That vile fucking monster my father called his girlfriend, who claimed to have previously worked as a nanny. As a caregiver of children, when she was nothing more than a predator in disguise.

Bleary-eyed, I stumble into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. The nightmares never go away, no matter how fast I run or ride or hide. A swipe of cool water on the back of my neck helps, but the relief is only temporary. She’ll keep haunting me like she has since that day she showed up at our house when I was fifteen.

I check on Fluffy in his new home, a massive tank beside my TV stand. He’s got everything he could possibly need—peat moss for burrowing, flower pot for hiding, rocks for climbing, water dish, and temperature and humidity gauges to make sure he’s comfortable. Hope Juliet didn’t think she’d be getting him back. At best, we can share custody, but he’s mine just as much as hers now.

On the TV stand, an unfamiliar, tiny bead of red light blinks. I rub my eyes before shuffling closer.

Is that a fucking camera?

I smirk, tracing a finger over the discreet lens. Juliet’s spying on me. Fluffy was merely a distraction from the real reason she broke into my room. She’s not as uninterested in the version of me without the mask as she pretends.

In that case, I better give her a show.