Page 12 of Safe (King’s Heart #1)

Landon

My mouth hangs open.

This can’t be the same place.

I look up at the beautiful home, covered in cream stucco. Gone is the feeling of decay and rot. It’s pristine. Even the statue of the angel I remember so well—once coated in green mossy shit and dirt—glows an ethereal white against the black night.

Well, except the bra she’s wearing. Someone put a neon lacy thing over her breasts.

A cacophony of noises filter back into my consciousness, snapping me out of my reverie just in time to step back so the guy who just stumbled out of Grant’s front door doesn’t puke right on my feet.

He retches in front of the angel, heavily leaning on her until he’s done. Wiping his mouth, he looks up at her and nods. “She’s kinda hot, huh?” he slurs, to me, I guess.

My face scrunches. “Uh, yeah.”

I spin away from him and shuffle back over to Declan who is staring at his phone. I eye the house again and feel more doubt form in my belly. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

He absently pats my shoulder but says nothing while his other hand starts to fly across the screen. After a few more moments, he pockets the phone and looks up at me. “Ready?”

Declan is always an explosion of fire and color, but tonight, especially out of his uniform, he’s even more unmuted.

When he pulled up to the bus station I had been waiting for him at, he jumped out of his luxury car that I don’t even know the name of and spun for me. “What do you think?”

He wore a black long-sleeved mesh top and painted on black jeans. His eyes sparkled with deep green shadow decorating the lids.

I looked down at my white T-shirt and blue jeans—the best clothes I own, which I’m sure is still vastly underwhelming to this crowd of kids—and immediately felt underdressed.

He read my mind. “No, you’re fine. Just give me my compliment and we can get going.”

“Oh.” I smiled at his honesty. “You look great, dude.”

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks, dude . Now, let’s go so we can see if you like dick.”

I snorted and jumped in his car, absently running my hands over the glossy interior while trying to listen to what he was talking to me about instead of incessantly thinking that maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

I wasn’t even going to go. But on one of the rides to school, I accidentally let slip that I had been invited to a party, and Simmons practically forced me to be here tonight, saying, “You need to have more fun.” He’s even babysitting Danny and Gwen for me.

And I guess he’s technically right. I haven’t really done stuff like this—partying or having any type of fun. I’ve never had time for it. I have Danny and Gwen to worry about. Rent to worry about.

Maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe it will be kind of… fun.

Or maybe you’ll get jumped.

“This looks really crazy,” I say uneasily to Declan, watching the people spill out of the house, cataloging all the crushed solo cups already in the yard. What time is it? Like nine at night? How long have they been doing this?

He shakes his head and gives my forearm a reassuring pat. “I know. But I promise, no one is even going to notice you. It’s all so insane—everyone is either too drunk or too worried about themselves to be noticing anything else.”

I nod as he grabs my hand, pulling me toward the entrance.

That front door that looked so haunting eight years ago is now wide open and painted a sleek black. I run my hand over the wood as Declan leads, trying to remember it, seeing if it really is the same.

Once we’re inside, I feel my chest tighten a bit, because this is a big house. Huge. And even so, it is packed with people. The stench of alcohol is thick in the dark air that’s hazy with smoke. I can barely see where we’re going as Declan navigates the sea of bodies.

As we move through, I notice that Declan was right.

No one is looking at me. I mean, they are, but they don’t really see me.

There are faces I recognize from school, and even though their eyes pass over me, it’s like I’m not there.

They’re either too wasted or too concerned with whatever they’re doing to care.

Some of the tension melts out of me. It’s nice. To not be glared at for once in the few weeks since I’ve been at King’s Heart.

“Come on! Let’s go get a drink!” Declan yells in my ear, leaning in close to be heard over the bass.

I nod and follow after him.

I don’t really drink much. I’ve had a few drinks in the past, but like I said, I’ve never had time for partying. I had other things. People who needed my care.

Because of that, I’m just going to have one and be done. I’m sure I’m a lightweight from my inexperience. No need to get blackout drunk around a bunch of people I don’t know that well and who don’t really like me.

But somehow, when Declan hands me a beer, and I take that first sip, feeling the warmth spread in my gut, one turns into two. And two into three. And suddenly, I feel really fucking awesome.

So when he pulls me out where a bunch of people are grinding and says let’s dance, I do.

I let my body move however the fuck it wants. I can feel people all around me. Hands slip around my hips. I don’t know who they belong to, but I think I don’t care. I just have to keep moving because this is the best goddamn song I’ve ever heard in my life, and I might die if I don’t dance along.

“Landon!”

I glance down at Declan’s face as he tilts his head to our right. “Look.”

There’s Grant. Across the room. Sitting in an over-sized black sofa chair. His legs are spread as his back sinks into the cushion. At first glance, he looks relaxed and confident. A king in his throne, casually overseeing the peasants below him.

But when I look at his face, it’s twisted in rage. Pointed right at me. His scowl menacingly piercing through my booze-fueled haze.

I feel like a deer stuck in the scope of his rifle. Completely vulnerable and exposed.

He continues to stare, unwilling to look away.

Fuck. Why did I come here?

“Do you trust me?”

My head snaps back in Declan’s direction, severing the staring contest I was having. “Huh?”

He yells over the music again, cupping his hands to make sure I hear him. “Do you trust me?!”

“Uh. Yeah?” It comes out more of a question.

“Okay. Now, don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

Without any further explanation, he reaches up, grabbing onto my face with his delicate, soft hands and smashes his lips to mine.

I stand there, in a state of shock with my eyes wide open as Declan moves his lips against my completely still ones.

“Come on,” he murmurs over my mouth.

Before I can think of a response, I’m yanked away, dragged out of the dancing masses and up a flight of stairs, tripping and stumbling over my uncoordinated feet until I’m thrown into an all too familiar room where I lose my balance and fall on my hands and knees.

I have half a second to look around before I am yet again yanked upward and thrown against the door I just came through. My head bangs against the wood with a dull thud.

“Ah, fuck!” I hiss. “Watch it.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Grant snarls in front of me, his chest heaving.

“Getting fucking manhandled,” I mumble while rubbing the back of my head.

“Shut the fuck up, pet.” His hand shoots out, grabbing onto my throat and pressing it harder against the door. I instantly fall silent.

His eyes glow in the dark as he glares at me.

It’s quiet, save for his labored breaths, and I wonder what’s going through his mind.

I swallow, feeling the pressure of his hand tighten around the motion.

My eyes flit down to his lips. Fuck, they look… good? Have I ever thought that about a guy’s lips before? But they do. They’re wet, like maybe he just licked them. I can’t stop staring at the shine, or tracing the outline, following the soft curve of his cupid’s bow.

My tongue snakes out to lick my own lips, and his glowing eyes watch the action.

He rattles my head against the door when I continue to be silent. “Answer me. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Having fun.”

“A little far away from the trailer park, aren’t you?”

My brows slam down. “Fuck you, dude.” I bring my hands up to the arm he’s using to restrain me and try pushing him away, but I must be really drunk, or maybe he’s stronger than I thought, because he doesn’t budge. “Let me go and I’ll leave.”

He ignores me, squeezing my throat until my breath starts wheezing out of me.

“So, you wanted to have fun with Declan? That’s why you guys sit together at lunch?

So you can drool over each other and talk about the next time you can shove your tongue down his throat?

When you can grind your cocks together?”

I don’t want to do any of that with Declan, but I don’t hate the words coming out of his mouth. Or the way he angrily says each of them closer and closer to my face. Or how his cologne is mixing with the smell of some sweet alcohol, getting me drunker than I already must be.

A weird boldness fills me.

I smile at him. “Careful, Grant. You almost sound jealous.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, pet.”

I inch my face closer—my voice a quiet whisper. “Maybe it makes you so mad to see someone else playing with your pet.”

Something shifts in his face. It slackens. His eyes glazing over while he squeezes my throat even harder.

And— oh, shit —my dick is twitching again. It definitely likes what’s going on.

He blinks and the look is gone, his usual glower taking over as he shakes his head at me, a series of patronizing tsks coming from between his lips.

“That’s what you don’t get. Despite what I call you, you’re not actually my pet.

You’re not anyone’s. You’re a stray with a mommy who runs around the streets. That’s all you’ll ever be.”

That earlier boldness bleeds out of me, and the words that usually wouldn’t hit their mark, do with the help of the alcohol lowering my walls. I try to turn my head—to get away from his intense gaze, but he uses two fingers to push my chin back in his sight.

He stares right into my eyes. “You’re trash, pet. Nothing. Your surroundings are better now that you’re at this school, so you think things have changed. But they haven’t. You’re the same as you’ve always been. Son of a whore. When will you realize that?”

My eyes well, and even though I want to stop it, I can’t. A tear falls over and runs down my cheek.

His eyes break from mine to track its path, then he sticks out his hot, wet tongue and leisurely drags it up my cheek, licking the tear away. My skin sears from the contact, and a gasp escapes my choked throat.

“Cry more, pet,” he croons. “I love the taste of your tears.”

He waits, watching my eyes, but I muster any control I have to keep the tears in.

Abruptly, he lets go and takes a step back. “Get the fuck out of my house.” His deep voice booms through the room even though he says it so quietly.

I turn and wrench the door open, running out.

It’s not lost on me how I’m running out of this house again. Because of this fuckhead again .

I keep going, running until my lungs burn and my legs ache. I finally find a bus stop and shakily sit on the bench, pulling out my phone and quickly shooting a text to Declan, telling him I didn’t feel good and caught the bus home.

Then I let the rest of my tears fall. All the ones I held back from him. The ones I wouldn’t let him consume.

I got too comfortable. Thought I was safe to enjoy myself a little.

But I can’t.

I won’t be making that mistake again.