Tryst six venom, p.11
Tryst Six Venom, page 11
And he’s smart enough to know that I never play games, so I wouldn’t play one unless I knew I could win.
So he does the only thing he can. “Not at all,” he finally replies. “I’ll take the bet.”
Flattening my left hand on the table, I spread my fingers wide and dig the point of the blade into first position, on the outside of my thumb.
But just then, I feel something, and that perfume hits me before I even see her. Her hand slides underneath mine, and I still as Clay covers my back, her breath on my ear.
“Scared?” she whispers.
I almost shove her off, but fine. I forge ahead. “Start the timer,” I tell Krisjen.
She brings up the app on her phone, hits the blue button, and I start, Clay’s hand underneath mine, thinking her presence will make my little heart patter so badly I’ll screw up. I’ll take that bet.
One-two, one-three, one-four, one-five, one-six, one-six, one-five, one-four…
I move the knife back and forth, between my fingers, faster and faster, my brothers clapping behind me to help me keep time.
“Faster,” Callum orders.
I move faster.
One-two, one-three, one-four, one-five, one-six, one-six, one-five, one-four… Moving through Clay’s and my fingers and back again, the heat from her hand moving through mine and up my arm to my chest.
I dig faster and faster, and harder, but after a moment, all I feel is her eyes on my neck, and I swear she moves in closer, inhaling through her nose.
Smelling me.
And that’s when I recognize the other scent on her. Vodka.
“Don’t stop,” she pants.
My eyelids flutter as her heart pounds against my arm.
The boys clap. Callum, Milo, Becks, and Krisjen watch the knife.
And even though Clay and I aren’t alone, it feels like it. They don’t hear her words.
“I dread the anticipation of pain more than the pain, don’t you?” she says in a low voice. “Most people don’t know when it’s coming. It’s worse when you know it’s coming.”
She speaks so softly. It’s not like her. What is she doing?
“Especially when you know it’s there every day,” she tells me.
I blink long and hard, heat flooding my body as the adrenaline rushes, because if I take my eyes off what I’m doing, I’m going to get hurt, but shit looks blurry now. Goddammit.
The girl is tail. That’s it. She’s a gutter human being and good for nothing else.
Her eyes linger on me, and I watch the timer, dropping to ten seconds left. One-two, one-three, one-four, one-five, one-six, one-six, one-five, one-four…
Her warm breath hits my neck. “Your skin looks like it’s on fire,” she whispers, and I swear I can feel her tongue.
Fuck. I groan, my stomach shaking, because she says it like she’s in pain.
“Olivia,” she pleads.
And my clit throbs, my hand trembles, and the knife slips, slicing right into the side of my middle finger.
Shit! Pain shoots through my hand, I drop the knife, and pull away, gritting my teeth.
Goddammit, Clay.
Laughter erupts at the table, and I turn back, seeing her slide onto Callum’s lap, a self-satisfied smile on her stupid face.
I suck the blood off my finger, looking for any on hers, but it doesn’t look like she was cut at all.
“She does have that effect on me, too,” Callum says, pulling Clay back into his body by her throat and kissing her cheek.
I glare down at her. “You did that on purpose.”
She leans forward, out of his hold, but his hands remain on her, roaming her back like she’s his.
Clay plucks a fry out of the basket, Krisjen’s all smiles as she relishes her bestie’s suave skill with the dyke.
“So what do we get now that we won?” Clay asks me, eating the fry.
“You get to stay,” Trace replies behind me.
“We could stay anyway.”
I pick up my blade, sheathing it and sticking it into my pocket.
“You know,” Clay continues, “I will actually be sorry when my father levels this place. Just think…” She looks over her shoulder at Callum. “We’re sitting right about the ninth hole, right? You’ve seen the blueprints?”
He nods, and Dallas steps forward, but I hold up my arm, keeping him back.
“Such a waste of good key lime pie,” Milo offers.
“Well, the new community needs restaurants,” Clay tells her. “We’ll give Mariette a job.”
And then she pins me with a look, and no matter what we do, they know they’ll win. Not today, but eventually.
“A key lime pie!” Callum calls out to the server. “To go!”
They all start to get up, but I stop them. “Cancel that!” I tell Mariette. And I look at Clay. “Night Tide. You can cross the tracks.”
This isn’t her against me. It’s Saints versus Swamp. Let’s have some fun before everything is gone.
Clay hesitates. “The administration doesn’t allow that. We have to stay in St. Carmen.”
Night Tide is a senior tradition. A scavenger hunt around town. All night. There’s usually unsanctioned drinking and a secret scavenger hunt that is also not allowed by the administration.
I give her a loaded look. “We won’t tell.”
Callum listens close as Clay ponders, her friends letting her make the call.
“All of us,” she says.
I nod.
“All night.”
I nod again.
“And we can go anywhere.”
“You can try,” I say.
I won’t lose again.
“Deal,” she says.
They rise from their seats, Callum dropping some money on the table as they filter past us, toward the door.
But Clay stops at my side, speaking low and close again. “And you owe me a new dress,” she says.
She leaves, and I smile to myself. Yeah, good luck with that.
“What are you doing?” Dallas yanks me around. “Macon won’t agree to that.”
I ignore him and leave the restaurant, passing Army, Iron, and Aracely without a word. I make the short trek down the road to my house, walking past the open workshop. Macon works on a motorcycle while a few of the local boys watch him with beers in their hands.
Safe in my room, I lock the door, plug my phone into the charger, and fall to my bed, keeping the room dark.
I stare above me, the streetlight outside glowing across the ceiling as some Kansas song vibrates through the walls from the garage. My white Christmas lights decorate my wrought-iron headboard and border the window frame, reminding me of spotlights in the dark of a stage.
I’m an actress, inside and out. For years, I played my part well, as if everything was according to script and I knew what was coming. No surprises.
But tonight, the snake inside uncoiled, and it felt good. My venom wasn’t like hers, so I never thought it was deadly. I’d given Clay too much power the last four years.
I smile in the dark. I’m poison. I can be poison, too.
I take my pillow underneath my head and hug it to my chest, squeezing the fabric in my fists and burying my nose in it.
My desire for her earlier was nothing. Just confusion.
Maybe I’m still attracted to her like I was years ago, before I realized how hideous she was.
Or maybe I just hate her so much that I want her to see my power. A kiss that turns into a bite. A fight that turns into a fuck.
Any way I slice it, it isn’t good. I’ve never been a violent person, and I don’t want to hurt people.
I just…I don’t know. She’s changing me. I want to affect her.
Curling on my side, I hold the pillow, letting go of the worry and planning for tomorrow.
For Clay. For the key.
And for the reality that I don’t want revenge or a fight. I want to have some fun.
I’m going to have fun on Night Tide.
“Liv?”
I stir, the fog in my brain lifting.
“Liv!” Two loud pounds hit my door, and I squeeze the pillow in my arms.
Sleep weighs heavy as I blink my eyes open, seeing a faint light stream through the windows.
Shit. I just laid down.
Didn’t I?
Turning over, I look at the clock, seeing it’s six fifty in the morning.
I shoot up, rubbing my eyes. Oh, my God. I slept in my clothes.
I clear my throat. “I’m up!”
“Can you make me a lunch to take to work?” Army asks. “Please? I’m swamped.”
Dex cries right outside the door, and I know he’s talking about the baby.
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Damn, it feels like I didn’t sleep at all. I don’t remember dozing off.
I straighten my arms, still wrapped around the pillow, and toss it off me.
The night before comes back, and I remember the deal I made with Clay.
I’m a little scared, but I’m a little excited too. And my head is clearer now. She not my enemy. She’s not that important. It’ll be an intense night, but I’ll make sure the Saints aren’t the only ones having fun.
My phone buzzes, and I grab it, climbing out of bed. I open my door, seeing Army walk with his kid down the hall. I close it again, stretching my arms above my head and feel the muscles and kinks crack in my back. I don’t think I moved all night.
My phone buzzes again, and I hold it up, swiping the screen. My toolbar is filled with notifications.
I narrow my eyes. What the hell did I miss while I slept? Damn.
I pick one and click on it, my chest immediately caving as my stomach rolls and vomit rises up my throat.
“What?” I choke out.
Clay.
No.
“HAVE YOU SEEN her?” Amy asks, swiping her lunch card.
“Do I care?”
I follow, swiping mine, tossing it on my tray, and carry my food to the lunch table. Krisjen follows, Milo stealing a handful of her fries as he passes. “Be careful, Clay,” she says. “There’s a reason Sanoa Bay has survived as long as it has. And a reason our parents don’t want us over there.”
“Please…” Amy chides her, sitting down next to Callum. “That video was priceless. Omega Chi supremacy.”
I pull my sweater vest off over my head and set it down on the table, pulling my phone out of my bag and checking notifications. Heat dampens my forehead.
Posting that video was stupid. Jesus, what was I thinking? I’d just been so fucking hot after seeing her in that car, her sweaty paws all over Megan, that I whipped out my phone and started filming.
And then I went inside Mariette’s and there was more confrontation. I can’t stop thinking about her.
I’m always thinking about her. I just want her out of my head.
“Our money doesn’t matter to them,” Krisjen tells Amy.
“True power doesn’t come from money,” I bite back, sick of Liv using that excuse, as well. “It comes from doing things others won’t. She threatened us. She challenged us. She brought this on herself.”
Maybe.
And maybe I kinda went too far. I was angry when I came home last night, so I went to Wind House and worked on Mr. Green’s makeup and watched Gates stitch a gash from a car accident victim that the morgue forgot to do.
But by one o’clock in the morning, it was still festering, so I just posted it. Fuck it. It was a reflex—a ‘close your eyes and just do it’ moment that I quickly regretted—but what did she think was going to happen? I won’t stop. I don’t know why, but I can’t, and I know she knows that. In fact, this should have gotten a lot uglier a long time ago.
What was I supposed to do? Just let her go? Just stop?
I haven’t seen her all morning, but I know she’ll show up at some point. Maybe tomorrow, with her head up, refusing to speak to me, taking the high road and not giving me the satisfaction of her attention and all that bullshit.
But then I hear Krisjen saying, “Clay.”
And before I have a chance to turn around, someone shoves me, and I stumble, nearly falling. I spin around, spotting Liv just as her palm whips across my face. I whimper, my head jerking to the side, and the tendons in my neck screaming. I tumble to the floor, shooting out my hands to catch myself.
“Ohhhhh!” someone howls.
“Bitch!” Amy shouts.
My cheek burns like it’s on fire, but I shake my head clear and climb back to my feet. Amy rushes Liv, but I dart out and yank her back, shoving Liv in the chest.
“Come on!” I yell.
This is between her and me. Fucking finally.
Her eyes are like lightning, and she looks like she wants to take a bite out of me. I growl, charging her. She crashes into a table, grabbing juice and throwing it at me before we spill to the ground. My claws dig into her skin and her fingers are ripping my hair out of my scalp as we go at each other—hitting, tearing, squeezing, and raging.
I want to cry, I’m so happy. This is all I want. Everything I want. I don’t want to ever do anything else.
Cheering fills my ears, she rolls on top of me, and I don’t see anything but her.
I only feel her.
• • •
The cut at the corner of my mouth stings. I tongue it, slouching in the wooden chair as I gaze past Father McNealty’s empty seat in his office.
God, it’s better than a drug. The feeling swirling in my gut and my heart pounding like I’m dangling a hundred feet in the air, only holding on by a single hand.
She’s better than a drug. I always knew she had it in her.
“If you ever come near me again,” Olivia grits through her teeth in the chair next to mine. “I will cut you.”
I look over at her. The orange juice she threw at me stains her white Polo, too.
But I almost smile, seeing the tear in her sleeve. I fought back, didn’t I?
“Cut me?” I taunt, watching her as she watches me graze my hand up the inside of my thigh, dragging up my school skirt. “Where?”
I pretend to rub myself, moaning.
Her mouth twists into a snarl. “Cunt.”
I turn away, smiling to myself. Dyke.
Sitting up straight, I hold up my nails, inspecting the damage. It took three teachers to pull us off each other. My only regret is that she didn’t start this shit after school when we wouldn’t have been interrupted. I’m in every bit as good of shape as she is. This could’ve gone on for hours.
The second bell rings, and now we’re officially late for fifth period. Where the hell is he?
“They’re going to research it, you know?” Liv says, and I can see her looking at me out of the corner of my eye. “Find out where that video came from, and when I take this online with my receipts, the entire fucking world will be calling for your head. Especially since I’m only seventeen.”
Fuck. I forgot about that. She’s a minor.
I pick at the chipped red nail polish, ignoring the skip in my heartbeat. “And who will believe you?” I turn my head, meeting her dark eyes under her long, black lashes. “I’m Clay Collins.”
Blonde and just like a bomb. Everything the administration loves to parade around in their recruitment brochures.
Her eyes narrow.
I look her up and down. “And you’re a dumpster rat probably looking forward to a long and illustrious career turning tricks on the dirty floor of her shitty house.”
Olivia launches out and grabs me by the back of my neck. I gasp.
I clutch the arms of the chair for support as she pulls us face to face, and I harden my jaw, looking into her eyes. The dark brown lights up with flecks of gold as she glares at me, and I can smell the peaches in her long black hair.
My heart pounds so hard. Yes.
Like a fucking drug.
She stares at me with fury, and I brace myself for impact when I know I should pull away.
But I don’t want her to let me go. It took so long to get us here.
I hate Olivia Jaeger. I fucking hate her, and I’d happily never love anything if I could hate her my whole life. My eyes pool with tears, and I don’t know why.
But I don’t blink.
Come on. My chin trembles. Come on. I want this.
The juice she threw at me still drips from my skirt, and I close my eyes at the burn in my scalp where her fingers are curled into my hair under my ponytail. Come on. I open my mouth, feeling her everywhere. Almost tasting it.
Bitter but beautiful, like Valium on my tongue. That’s what she’s like.
I open my eyes, a tear spilling over, and I see her watching me, a mixture of anger and wariness in her eyes. Like she’s unsure about something.
A voice carries in from the office, and Liv pushes me away, releasing me as the door to the headmaster’s office opens.
I shake my head as I sit back in my chair. Wimp.
“Father McNealty is held up with the mayor,” Mrs. Garrison tells us, remaining in the doorway. “He will speak to both of you in the morning, so don’t think you’re off the hook. Go to the locker room, change—”
I rise before she’s finished, grab my cell phone off his desk, and walk past the old bag.
“And get directly to class,” she yells after us as Liv and I walk through the office toward the door. “If I get another whiff of one more fight between you two, I’m calling your parents to pick you up!”
But we’re already in the hallway, the door swinging closed behind us. I don’t turn around, and I don’t slow down, charging down the empty hallway as teachers drone on in their classrooms, and I descend the stairs, finding my way to the locker room.
Jaeger’s on my tail the entire time, though, and I feel her eyes on my back. I hope she jumps me again.
I hope she does.
I push through the door, the offices and locker room empty as everyone is already outside. I stop at my locker and dial in the combination, throwing it open.
“Just had to be orange juice, didn’t it?” I gripe, pulling my Polo off over my head. “Everything is sticky.”
It’s down in my goddamn socks. These saddle shoes are vintage. If she fucked them up, I’ll make sure not even her lowlife brothers can protect her.
