Page 11 of Hysteria Rises (Dark Falls Hollow #1)

SEVEN

MALAKAI

The clang of pots and the faint sounds of people moving around downstairs is all the signal I need that it’s time to get my ass out of bed.

The schedule around here doesn’t deviate much.

Like ever. The Collective runs the compound at Dark Falls Hollow like a tight goddamn ship.

When I was brought here three years ago, it’d felt like I’d been thrown in the deep end without a life preserver.

The society my father and his friends have built here is nothing—I repeat, nothing—like it is on the outside.

But that’s a distant memory these days. Now, my world has shrunk down to a never-ending loop of the same people and the same shit to be accomplished. I survive, but not much more than that.

Working my jaw to the side, irritation grates at me as it so often does. Maybe if I’d been given a goddamn choice, I’d feel differently.

Gannon, my younger brother, snorts in his sleep, stretching both arms over his head. I wish there was a chance we weren’t related. But nope. There’s simply no denying we share blood.

Without further thought, I open the locker at the foot of my bed.

The hinge creaks noisily, but I shrug, digging into my clothing for a clean pair of pants, followed by a navy long-sleeved shirt that’s seen better days, underwear, and socks.

A tired sigh escapes me as I tug the garments into place.

Narrowing my eyes, I glance around the room.

The rest of these assholes won’t be up for a while.

At least if I leave now, I’ll have some time to myself.

Glancing over my shoulder as I exit, a smirk tugs at my lips, and I yank the door shut with a loud snap behind me.

We’re only ever permitted to sleep in the mornings after the Hunting. It’s a crock of steaming shit, if you ask me. These fools are clueless. If it’s not in one of the approved books—the ones Finneas provides for us—they don’t know anything about it.

The moment my feet hit the floor at the bottom of the stairwell, a deafening silence greets me.

That means nothing, though. The women will be in the kitchen, as usual.

A moment later, I barge into their domain and they scatter like frightened bugs.

Twenty-two and Twenty-one move quickly. Sixteen and Eight don’t even cast me a wary glance.

They keep their heads down, saying nothing.

They’re not stupid. At least they’ve got their roles down pat.

At the quickening of their pace, I let loose a chuckle into the cavernous room.

Hell, even the one who’s taken to waddling around lately is moving fast now.

Once they’re gone, I allow myself a minute, eyes roaming over the covered warming dishes set out for our breakfast along the enormous stainless steel work surface.

I’m in the process of putting a couple flapjacks on my plate and pouring syrup over them when angry voices raise loud enough to wake the dead.

It’s the fact that there’s a female voice among them that makes my brows shoot upward on my forehead.

It can only be the one we found last night.

The one I saw first. The same one Hayze snatched right out of my perfectly capable hands.

Fucker. Always thinks he knows best and has a big goddamn head from all the undeserved compliments his father pays him.

Someday, I will delight in bursting his overinflated ego.

I’m just biding my time. Watching every move he makes so I’ll know when the moment is right.

Cocking my head to the side, I attempt to discern which of the Collective is dealing with her or even if there is more than one. I can’t quite tell even as the cacophony continues to echo through the main floor of the compound.

What the fucking hell is going on?

And then … there’s a sound of wretched anguish followed by a low, snarling shout of …

pain. The plate I’d been filling slips out of my hand and crashes to the floor.

Not giving the shards of ceramic or the food that hit the floor another glance, I run toward the sound of madness.

If something is going down, I want to be involved.

I hate the passive role I’m routinely forced into.

It sucks. But Finneas’s absence might give me the opportunity to play a more important part.

I rush down one hall, then the next, picking up my pace as more pissed-off bellowing meets my ears.

It sounds like my father, but the cries are muffled, so I could be wrong.

Even without knowing for certain who is involved, my best guess is that the pandemonium has broken out in Nolan’s rooms. After all, that’s where they took the girl last night.

My ears prick as some additional commotion drifts down the stairwell from two stories up. Considering all the shouting probably yanked everyone out of a sound sleep, I assume it’s the guys. No doubt they’re scrambling to dress so they can get down here to see what the hell is going on.

This is my chance to prove myself, though, and I’m taking it.

Sure enough, when I reach the source of the continuing ruckus, one of the doors to Nolan’s rooms stands open.

“Don’t touch me! You can’t keep me here. And you sure as fuck don’t have any right to put your hands on me!” The spirited feminine voice is breathy, strangled by intermittent sobs.

With caution, I edge myself close enough that I can peer through the doorway. “Holy shit,” I breathe out. Taking in the scene, I blink hard.

Nolan’s books and assorted bullshit from his desk are strewn everywhere, and a cart full of medical supplies has been upended all over the floor.

If I didn’t know better, I would have thought last night’s storm had whipped through here, leaving a path of destruction in its wake.

At a shuddering exhale from across the room, my gaze cuts to the blonde crouched in the corner.

There’s a resentful, furious look in her eye as she tracks Henry’s every movement, poised to strike out at him.

Whether he’s gonna be able to handle whatever she does next, I haven’t a clue, but I’m not so sure provoking her is a wise idea.

“If you think I won’t do it again, you’re wrong!

” she screams. That’s when I spot the blood all over the fingertips of her hand.

For a split second, her lip trembles, but she locks down whatever emotion she’s feeling and glares.

Henry has both hands raised and out in front of him.

I assume he’ll be able to stave off an attack from a young woman on his own.

Slowly, carefully I creep closer. The girl hasn’t noticed me yet, she’s so focused on Henry.

And I’m so focused on her, I almost miss the flurry of activity on the other end of the room.

Nolan shakes his head, eyeing my father’s cheek where he applies pressure to a large swath of gauze.

It’s soaked in blood. Oh, hell. If she knew anything at all about these men, Kiefer is one she should definitely be cautious around. Attacking him? Bad fucking idea.

As if my body is aware it should prepare for battle, it comes alive, ready to take on whatever this girl brings my way. A few measured strides bring me within striking distance, and I draw in a slow breath to steady myself.

Without warning, I pounce. The girl has no time to do anything but gasp before I have a hold of her.

Arms pinned to her sides, a disgruntled noise wrenches from her.

I can’t help but chuckle. “You’re a spitfire, aren’t you?

” I whisper, letting my lips brush her ear with each word.

“Well, you won’t be digging those claws into my skin. ”

Her chest expands as she sucks in air before yelling directly into my face.

“Let. Me. Go, you psychotic deviant!” The corrosive venom she spews my way means nothing to me.

I’ve been on the receiving end of worse.

I can practically sense the wrath vibrating through her.

She twists, scanning my face—for what, I have no clue—and flames practically shoot from her eyes.

She contorts her body into one bizarre angle after another, no doubt trying to wriggle herself free. It won’t work.

“Fuckin’ stop,” I grind out, pressing her back against the wall.

“You’re only making things worse for yourself.

” In need of my hands, I use our distinct size difference, pushing my full weight against her.

Once I have her good and pinned, I take her wrists in my hands, yanking them upward and pressing them into the wall.

We strain against each other, and the longer it goes on, heat begins a slow roll through me.

I’ll give her this—she’s a goddamn fighter … and I find that strangely attractive. She’s not making this easy on me either, but there’s no way I’ll be bested by some girl.

“Watch her, Mal,” my father bites out. “She’s vicious.

Combative. All we did earlier was walk into the sick bay to see how she felt this morning after her mishap yesterday.

” He pauses for a moment to clear his throat, but it comes out more like a laugh.

Doesn’t surprise me. I bet he finds everything about this girl amusing as hell, and that’s not a good thing.

Not for her. She’s attracted his attention.

Made herself a target with one swipe of her nails to his face.

He continues with a more obvious laugh, “We didn’t even get a chance to introduce ourselves. ”

I cock my head to the side. “Is that so?” I ask loudly without diverting my gaze from hers. She stares at me, eyes full of hate. Then I press closer, murmuring barely loudly enough for her to hear me, “You’ve made a big fuckin’ mistake, spitfire.”

“Yep,” Nolan mutters, nothing in his voice giving any hint that he’s heard what I said to her. “I was just going to change out the dressing on the wound on her scalp, and she flew into a rage.”

Henry’s heavy footfall to my right alerts me that he’s come closer.

I grit my teeth. I don’t need his help. Quietly, he intones, “Don’t let her fool you, Malakai.

Sweet thing was meek as a mouse when we first went into the room.

Looked at us with big doe eyes and asked us to help her.

” Henry shakes his head in disbelief. “And then, boom. She was on the attack.”

Just then, the girl goes completely limp against me, her eyes shutting. My brows dart together, confusion reigning. But then, I catch the barest twitch of movement at the corner of her mouth.

“Playing possum, are you?” I lean in, catch her lip between my teeth, and bite down.

Those blue eyes fly open, outrage spilling from them, her face screwing up as she insistently shouts, “Let me go!” Then, when I don’t, she bucks and writhes. “Stop!”

Exhaling, I shift against her, reinforcing that there’s no way in fuck she’s getting away from me.

Not when I sense the Collective’s eyes on us.

She will not mess this up for me. I grasp her wrists together with one hand, and bring the other to the slim column of her neck where I slowly curl my fingers, applying subtle pressure.

Awareness crackles beneath my skin, and I tilt my pelvis.

Nose to nose, I lick across the seam of her lips.

“This act you’re putting on? I like it,” I whisper before nuzzling my cock against her soft belly.

A look of disgust fills her eyes. “You’re a sick fuck,” she heaves out. Squirming. Twisting. Rioting. Moving against me in a way that sure as fuck isn’t doing her any favors at all.

“I hate to tell you this,” I murmur, infusing my voice with a chill, “but all you’re doing is making my dick harder.”

One of the Collective laughs. If I’m not mistaken, this time, it was definitely my own father.

“You all are a bunch of fucking heathens!” she shouts right before rearing back to spit. The wet mess lands on my cheek and dribbles toward the corner of my mouth. I’m not fazed. I can’t be.

Slowly, I turn my head, seeking to connect my gaze with the other men before the corners of my mouth lift. I want to make sure they see every moment of the way I’m handling this.

Pity for her, but the girl’s not even aware of the problems she’s causing for herself.

Because from the look on my father’s face, she’s in deep shit.

I swivel my head back to her, then poke my tongue out, swiping it over her saliva before bringing it back into my mouth.

I cock my head to the side and raise a brow. “Mmm. I like it.”

A perverse pleasure sweeps through me as I pause to decide how to retaliate.

Pressing forward, I inhale, nudging my nose along her skin.

She flinches almost violently when I give her an experimental lick.

Satisfied, I commit, dragging the flat of my tongue from the hinge of her jaw all the way across her cheek.

She instinctively revolts against the wet caress, which I take as an opportunity to put her further in her place.

I pause, letting her feel my heavy breaths before swirling my tongue and tracing it along the underside of her eye.

Her body involuntarily shudders in my hold.

And then … I get what I’m after. She whimpers, a despondent cry ripping from her lips.

Having that control, it gives me a sense of dominance I’ve never known before.

“Sweet spitfire,” I whisper, “we’re gonna have a whole lot of fun with you. ”