I push off the bed to check it out. Inside is an iPod. I didn't even know they made these anymore. It also contains earbuds, a charger, and a portable speaker. I power it on and scroll through the music. It isn't bad. I know a lot of the artists, but a few are new. Someone knows me--a little too well. It might freak me out if I weren't high right now.
I insert the earbuds and select a song. I nod to the beat, strolling around the room. It's twice the size of my room back home. But I already feel locked in. Since no one's monitoring the hallways this weekend, they won't know if I wander around. In truth, I'm craving ice cream and want to find the freezer.
I leave the iPod on the desk and stick a sock in my door so it doesn't close all the way. I hesitate in the dimly lit hallway for a moment, listening. It's eerily quiet. Which makes me feel like I need to be quiet too, even though I know no one is here, other than Sophia and Ashton. I tiptoe down the hall to the enormous staircase. My bare feet don't make a sound on the carpeted surface. It seems like it takes forever to reach the bottom. Why don't they have a stupid elevator?
I slip through the French doors that lead into the dining room. The moon is shining through the enormous row of windows that look onto the back lawn. The dim light helps me navigate around the tables until I reach the swinging door that leads to the kitchen.
This kitchen is nothing like Stella's. Every stainless steel surface is gleaming in the soft over-counter lighting. I swear, even the cool tiled floor looks like it's glowing. Or maybe it's the drugs.
I open cooler door after door until I finally find what I'm looking for. With a huge grin, I select a tub of chocolate ice cream with caramel swirl. It's so huge, I have to wrap my entire arm around it just to carry it. I'm going to eat the entire thing, or try. I slide a stirring spoon of a hook above one of the counters and walk back through the dining room.
I'll eat it in the library or great room or whatever the hell the room is called across the foyer. The room that looks like an old guy in a smoking jacket should be seated on one of the wingback chairs, sucking on a pipe, and telling stories for PBS in front of its huge stone fireplace. My room is too far away right now.
Mid-way across the foyer, I hear a creak. And because this place quieter than a tomb, the sound reverberates throughout the entire foyer. I hold my breath, because my altered brain is convinced that'll help me hear better. I slowly turn toward the noise. The door leading to the Court is cracked open. Jostling in the breeze, it releases another squeak. I exhale.
Ignoring the churning in my stomach warning me not to, I creep to the door and peek outside. I don't see anyone. I push the door open farther and step outside. A chill travels up my spine when my feet sink into the thick, cool grass. The warm June air breathes against my face, carrying the perfumed scent of roses. I close my eyes to let it seep in, inhaling deep.
The trellis leading into the Court reminds me of a dark cave. There aren't any lights, but I notice a soft glow emanating from the cobblestone path. I've never seen anything like it. Then again, I've never been to a place like this before either. Or any place outside of Sherling (not counting juvie) come to think of it.
Adjusting the slippery tub in my arm, I venture toward the black abyss leading into the Court.
"Not a good idea."
I spin around, searching for the male voice that just spoke. It takes a moment for my eyes to distinguish his silhouette, lying on the hammock in the corner near the hedges.
"Um ... what are you doing out here?" I inch closer until I'm at the umbrella table nearest him. It's too dark to make out his features, but it looks like he's wearing dress pants and a button-down shirt. Shit. I've been caught by one of the teachers.
"Waiting." That one word is laden with so much arrogance. Definitely not a teacher.
"For who?" I jab back with just as much attitude.
"You, Lana."
My sluggish brain fights to remember if I met him. But I haven't met any guy since I arrived, and the cook doesn't count. "How do you know who I am?"
Although I can't see his face, I can tell his hair is light; it looks almost silver in the moonlight. And the way the shadows play with the angles and curves of his face, it's like he was chiseled from stone. Maybe he's a vampire.
A giggle bursts from my lips.
"What's so funny?"
"You're alive, right?"
"And you've been hanging with Ashton tonight."
"How do you know?" I try to sound defensive, but end up sounding impressed that he figured it out.
"Umm ... you're holding a giant tub of ice cream, and are about to eat it with a mixing spoon. Can that even fit in your mouth? Wait. I want to see you try."
I look down at the tub that's now dripping with condensation, soaking into my tank top. I rest it on the umbrella table, balancing the spoon across the top. "I was hungry."
"Clearly."
Smartass.
"How do you know who I am?" I ask again. My thoughts keep jumping all over the place, but ... in slow motion.
He pushes a polished black shoe into the ground, rocking the hammock. He's holding a glass of something in one hand, while the other is draped over his head like he was out here contemplating the meaning of life.
I sigh dramatically when he doesn't answer. I'm about to lift the ice cream again and go back inside, not putting up with his pompous shit.
"I think the real question is, why are you here?"
I look up, leaving the ice cream on the table. "What?"
"You don't exactly have the admission criteria. Your parents aren't notable. No one would even know who you are, or care, if you were on the cover of a tabloid. Maybe you're smart enough, but that's never why they admit new students. Someone pulled some major strings to get you in here. Why?"
"I'm here on scholarship," I snap back, providing Niall's explanation.
"They don't grant scholarships at Blackwood."
I'm about to retort with some smartass remark when his answer sinks in. "They don't?"
"No, they don't. They're very selective. And you don't fit the Blackwood profile. No one here has a criminal record, not even if they were arrested, and most were. Their parents are powerful enough to get it expunged."
He's playing with me, and it's starting to annoy the hell out of me. I huff, fed up. "Who are you? And how do you know so much about me?"
"It's why I'm here," he says, his voice almost aloof. "I know too much."
Then it hits me. "What are you, a hacker?"
He chuckles, the moonlight glinting off straight, white teeth. But he doesn't answer.
"Are you at least going to tell me your name, or do you prefer to annoy the fuck out of me all night?"
"Oh, I like you," he says, still smiling. "You bite."
I roll my eyes. "Really?"
"I'm Brendan."
And now that I know, there isn't a reason to stay out here. I lift the tub of ice cream, the spoon falling to the ground. I bend to pick it up just as deep voices cut through the hedges. I straighten, uncertain what to do.
Brendan rolls to stand--a sudden, silent motion--abandoning his glass beneath the hammock. He's tall and lean, his short hair parted neatly to the side. The mature attire and refined style make him appear much older than a high school student. No wonder I thought he was a teacher.
He nods toward the hedges at the corner of the building closest to us. I eye the door, thinking I can make a run for it before whoever it is, security most likely, comes through the rose trellis. I glance back at Brendan; he shakes his head as if reading my thoughts. He tips his head toward the hedges again just as I hear the voices--they're too close.
I rush toward the corner of the building, Brendan meets me halfway and guides me with a hand on my lower back. I squeak in protest when he pulls the tub of ice cream out of my arms and tosses it in the hedges. I stop and stare after it longingly, sighing when it disappears under the shrubbery.
"I'll buy you an entire ice cream truck," he whispers impatiently, tuggi
ng my arm. I relent, letting him drag me into the shadows. A beam of light sweeps the yard just as Brendan presses my back against the side of the building, urging me to slide between the stone and the hedge. And just like that, I'm back at the country club, with my heart pounding and green needles stuck in my hair. Except this time, I'm caged in by a hard body that smells of mint and a cool breeze. I press my nose to his shirt and inhale.
"Did you just smell me?" he whispers in my ear.
I quickly lean back against the uneven stone. I can't believe I just did that. I glance up to find him grinning down at me.
"What's the door doing open?" a voice asks. The flashlight searches the corners of the yard. "Do you see anyone?"
"No."
"Radio in and ask if anyone else reported finding windows or doors open."
What feels like an hour later, with Brendan's warm body way too close and his hands on either side of my head, we hear, "There was a window cracked open on the first floor on the other side."
"Are they going to do a security check?" one of the guards asks.
"They did. Everyone's in their rooms." I hear the distinct click of the door being shut "I hate doing the interior patrols. It's fricken creepy as shit." The voice fades as he moves away.
Brendan is so close. I try not to glance up, but I can't help it. He's looking down at me, his face still lost in shadow so I still can't tell what he looks like. His lips curve into another arrogant smile. I push against his chest, but he doesn't budge.
"Seriously, you can get off me now," I tell him, my voice edged with warning. He lifts an arm, releasing me. I peek around the corner and then slowly walk back out into the yard. It's empty.
"You're not getting in that way," Brendan says quietly when I reach the doors.
I know he's right, but I have to try anyway. They're locked.
"What do I do?" I'm more annoyed about being stuck outside than nervous about being caught. I don't necessarily want to get caught and have Niall be called back here on my first day. Imagining the disappointment on his face makes my stomach ache for reasons I don't want to explore.
"Back into the hedges." When I hesitate, Brendan beckons, "Come on, Princess, we don't have all night."
My spine stiffens. "Don't call me that," I snap coldly. I follow after him, slipping in between the hedges and the building. A few feet in, he stops in front of a tall wrought iron fence. I look up. There's no way I can climb it.
Instead, he crouches, flips up what looks like a grate, and jumps down. He turns toward me and offers his hand. I ignore him and sit on the edge of the lawn and hop down into the trench. I duck as he lowers the grate back in place. He's forced to walk in an awkward crouch, while I barely have to bend in half. We don't go too far before he stops in front of an arching subterranean window.
After fiddling with it for a few seconds, Brendan eases the window open and disappears inside. When I shuffle to the ledge, he's waiting beneath the window with his arms raised to help me down. I can't see the bottom, so I reluctantly place my hands on his shoulders and allow him to lower me.
Landing within inches of him releases a flush I'm glad he can't see. He doesn't remove his hands from my waist right away. I'm overtaken by his scent again and have to fight the urge to close my eyes and breathe him in.
He's worn a mask of shadows all night-always making him appear unnaturally sculpted and pale. I still don't know what he really looks like.
When I tip my head back, he's wearing that same arrogant grin. "Are you going to smell me again?" Why can I not be sober right now? If I were, I'd probably have punched him at least once already.
"Jackass." I shove him away as he releases a low, rumbling laugh.
Brendan climbs onto something to close the window and takes my hand when he steps back down. My first instinct is to pull away, but the only light is filtering in through the small window, and I have no idea where we're going.
A small pinpoint of light cuts through the dark, revealing a damp, stone corridor. The light's coming from a phone, and not the school issued one either.
"Where did you get the phone?"
"There's not much I can't get," he replies, his cockiness tempting me to punch him in the face. "Why? Do you want one?"
"Yes," I answer without hesitation.
"What would you be willing to do to get one?"
I yank my hand free and groan in disgust. "Go. Now. Before I murder you and let the rats eat your carcass."
"Sexy," he says with a chuckle.
I take in a breath, preparing myself before following after him. I stay close behind so I can see each step as we squeeze down the passage that looks like it was hand-dug and re-enforced haphazardly with piles of stones. I try not to think about whether it's stable, or what it would feel like being trapped in here if it caved in around us. Dizziness makes my steps falter as a light coat of sweat breaks out along my skin. By the time we reach a set of steep stone steps, I have to use the wall's support to stay upright.
The stairway is so narrow Brendan slides through sideways. The tight space makes my pulse thrum. My lungs feel like I'm breathing through cotton. I press against the stone, but I swear it's closing in around me ... a trickle of sweat rolls down my cheek.
I catch the scream in my throat when a hand comes down on my shoulder. I swipe it away as if it were a spider.
"Touch me again and you bleed," I seethe.
He slides open a door and we enter the Quiet Room on the main floor with its worn leather couches and wingback chairs.
My entire body is shaking when I step through. I collapse against the cool stones of the fireplace, fighting to catch my breath, bent over with my hands on my knees.
Brendan slides the bookcase back into place.
"You gonna be okay?" he asks, his hand hovering above my back, but he doesn't make a move to touch me.
"Yeah," I breathe out with a shudder.
Once I've pulled myself together, I stand and cross the room toward the shadowy foyer. Brendan follows. I don't expect to find him still behind me when I reach the stairs. I turn to face him from atop the first step.
"Where are you going?" I demand, not even trying to be nice about it.
"Making sure you get to your room okay."
"Thanks for sneaking me in, but I can manage from here," I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Are you sure? I'd hate for you to get lost on your way to your room."
"I've got it." There is no way in hell he's getting near me or my room ... ever. Even if he does smell good.
Brendan steps up next to me.
I can finally see his face. And I think I may hate him.
His hair is naturally platinum blond, not silver. I wasn't wrong about the angles of his face, but he doesn't have the deathly pallor of a vampire. His bronze skin makes him look like he's spent the summer on a yacht. To make things worse, he has big, brown eyes lined with thick lashes and beautiful full lips a guy should never be allowed to possess.
I hate him.
"I'm in room 14, on the fourth floor."
When I just stare at him like he's delusional, he adds, "So you can find me when you want me."
"Which will be never."
"You don't lie, Lana. Don't start now." He winks.
I glare at him.
He leans down until he's within a breath of kissing me, and defiantly I grit my teeth and don't move away. "You're going to need something from me eventually."
"Go away."
There's something intrinsically captivating about him. Hypnotic. Like the call of a siren luring a ship into the rocks. Treacherous, yet seductive. I back away, the hairs on my arms standing on end in warning.
"Sweet dreams, Lana."
I watch him exit the door leading into the Court. After a few seconds, I rush over to it and pull to be certain it's really closed.
A thumping sound breaks the silence. I freeze halfway across the foyer and listen. A scraping noise comes from ... somewhere. And because I
haven't learned a single thing from any of the horror movies I've watched, I follow it.
Another thump can be heard down the hall. Slowly, I continue toward it, hugging the wall. Not sure how this will help protect me, but it's what feels right, so whatever.
I stop in front of a door that's cracked open. I hear a muffled grunt and swearing. Poking my head in, I blink in surprise when I find Ashton staring at me from the other side of the window, trying to force it open. I rush over to unlock the window and slide it open.
"Omigod, I cannot believe you were here. Thank you so much," she gushes as she ducks in and closes it behind her.
"How were you able to reach the window?" I ask, recognizing how far the window is from the ground.
"Step ladder," she explains. "I keep it hidden under the bushes. But I swear I left the window open."
"The security team saw it," I tell her. She opens her mouth to ask how I know this, but I stop her. "Don't ask. It's a long story."
She quirks a brow, intrigued. "Well, thank you for rescuing me." She smells of beer and ... something earthy. I can't quite place it.
I must be wearing a similar curious expression, because she silences me with the same response. "I'll tell you later. Right now, I really want to go to bed."
"Me, too."
I'm exhausted by the time we climb the five flights of stairs to my room, silently cursing every single step, parting with Ashton at the top. This has been the longest day, but not the longest. Nothing will ever compare to that night.
I enter my room and find "Lana" shining on my wall. I must have forgotten to shut it off. I keep it lit while I change and wash my face. When I click the switch off, the wall beneath it is ... glowing.
"What the ..." My heart thumps hard in my chest. I turn on the lights and look around my room, searching for any other sign that someone was, or may still be, in the room. There's nothing except for the words written on my wall that scream at me in the dark.
The beast watched Thaylina from within his dark cavern as she came and went from the tower, waiting for the day that he would ensnare her. And harness her power for himself. Preying on the deepest desires would leave no one invulnerable to his charm.
I was up until after two in the morning scrubbing the glowing message off my wall with a round-bristle hairbrush and body wash, so I am not happy when my phone starts beeping at eight, demanding a fingerprint. The screen glows with a follow-up message, letting me know I'm scheduled to work from ten 'til four o'clock today. Except, it leaves out where.