Deceit (Gallows Hill Book 1), page 18
This is weird, right? It’s only been about twelve hours, but my brain is struggling to comprehend such a foreign concept. I’m dating two men…at the same time…and they know about it…and are at least, moderately okay with it? I swear I’m not complaining, I’m living millions of women’s dreams, it’s just unfamiliar territory. Despite not knowing how long it will last, I’m going to enjoy every second of it for now.
Liam took me to dinner at an amazing little sushi restaurant across town before he said he had to get home. He told me Asher was no doubt waiting for him so that he could throw his fit about us being together. I told Liam he shouldn’t bother entertaining his temper tantrum, but he told me it was more complicated than that as he peppered my face with kisses and ate my pussy before he walked me to my door.
Such a gentleman.
I wave my keycard over my door, and it clicks open with ease, however as soon as I step inside the room something immediately feels off. I can’t put my finger on it, it’s just…different.
“Hello?” I call out stupidly. Even if someone was in here, do I really think they would shout out, ‘yeah, it’s just me!’.
My eyes dance around my room before pausing on my bed. The comforter is rumpled and there are a pair of my panties in the middle of the bed, as well as a piece of paper. I swallow shakily, taking slow steps towards my bed, before I pick up the paper.
To my light,
You shine so bright, like the sun on a summer’s day
Your creamy colored skin aching to be touched
Your delicate sensitive soul longing to be held
I’ll care for you and love you deeper than anyone could
Just open your eyes my light, shine on me
A chill runs down my spine as goosebumps scatter across my arms. My eyes flick down to see a pair of panties that I know for a fact were in my laundry hamper. I put them in there this morning when I got ready. Lifting them up slowly, I notice that the majority of them are wet. Only one guess as to what the liquid is.
Revulsion, embarrassment and terror all rage through me simultaneously. This is getting fucking ridiculous. A few little notes and gifts were easy enough to explain away before but this? This is too far. It can’t be Asher. He would be too proud of something like this, much like he was with the pillow incident. He’d have signed his name on the letter, that is if he was the kind of man that would write poetry, even ironically so. No, this is definitely not Asher.
My mind races with potential suspects, before one person in particular comes to mind.
Son of a bitch.
I grab the only dry end of my white panties before I storm back out the door and into the elevator. It doesn’t take me long to get to the pool and once I do, my target is right where I’d expect him to be.
I burst through the doors, coming up to the side of the pool as Vincent passes by, finishing his lap. I, however, don’t have the patience to wait for him to finish. I ball the panties up, throwing them directly at his head. It’s not like it hurts, though I wish it would. It is enough to grab his attention.
His head pops up out of water, his black hair soaked and wild without a swim cap on as he rips his goggles off his head and reaches for my panties that are now floating away from him in the water.
“What the fuck?” he practically snarls. “Why the hell are you throwing your panties at me?”
“Oh, I figured you’d want them back. You were so well acquainted with them, why don’t you just fucking keep them!” I shout.
His face screws up as he looks at me.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you! You fucking pervert. It’s so obvious, it has to be you. You’re everywhere I turn, watching me, and I’m fucking sick of it! Stop with the creepy love notes, stop with the gifts and if you ever break into my room again I will have your ass locked up so fast it will make your head spin!” I seethe.
He stares at me for several seconds before he pushes himself out of the pool, dripping wet panties in hand as he looks down at them before up to me.
“Show me.”
“What? No. Didn’t you just hear me?” I scoff. “Stay the fuck away from me. I don’t know what you—”
I’m silenced almost immediately when he drops his goggles and the panties to the floor, his dripping wet hands cupping either side of my cheeks as those piercing silver eyes stab straight through me.
“Siren, whatever is going on, it wasn’t me. I’m always watching you because I don’t know how not to, but do you really think I’m the type to send you love notes and gifts?”
I open my mouth, ready to spit that I absolutely think he would, when I pause. When he puts it like that, I’m not as confident. I don’t know if he’s just trying to manipulate me. Something about the raw honesty in his tone, the fierceness in his silver bullet eyes and the way he’s holding me so tenderly, as if I were a piece of glass about to shatter apart at any moment, has me believing him.
A million thoughts race through my mind as I look up at him, unsure how to proceed when a useless piece of information sticks out to me above all else.
“What do you mean you don’t know how not to watch me?”
He blinks several times, that emotionless face giving absolutely nothing away as he speaks again, his voice low and gravelly.
“Show me your room.”
I watch him hesitantly, not sure what to do or say. I was so sure if it wasn’t Asher, it had to be him. Unless he’s the world’s most convincing liar though, which is possible I suppose. It’s not him.
Despite the little voice in my head screaming to run far from this man, I slowly nod, turning to walk back towards the door. I hear some rustling sounds and when I turn back, Vincent has a pair of sweats pulled on as well as a Black Sabbath t-shirt and a pair of slides. His hair is still dripping wet as he packs his goggles back into his bag before lifting my panties up. He inspects them carefully as if there was something to inspect before he slips them into his pocket and throws his bag over his shoulder.
I lead the way out of the building and into the crisp night air. I’d feel cold if it wasn’t for the 6’4 shadow that has practically attached itself to me. Vincent walks so closely, it’s as if he’s attempting to wrap himself around every inch of me without touching. I’d never admit it, but it makes me feel safe. If it really isn’t him who has been breaking in, he’s ready to protect me should they jump out of the bushes or something. God, would you listen to me? I’m losing it.
When we step into the elevator together, his presence practically swallows the small space whole, leaving no room to think or even breathe. I’m extremely aware of how close Vincent is to me.
The scent of him is overwhelming, the strong smell of chlorine that is like my own personal aromatherapy combined with something muskier that has to be entirely him. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this close to him, for this long, to notice. He smells amazing though.
As soon as the elevator doors open, I step out, needing a little bit of distance between us as I shake my head and open my door. I’m about to step inside my room when Vincent steps around me, gently pushing me behind him as he does. His eyes scan the room from top to bottom before he takes a step inside.
He moves deeper into my room, heading for the bathroom. He looks inside the glass shower and behind the door before heading to my closet where he looks behind the door, through the racks of clothes and even on the ground. I didn’t think about checking out the room more. Is it possible that there could have been someone in my room when I came in? That they hadn’t left yet? The very thought rolls my stomach.
“Explain everything to me in detail,” Vincent says, as he turns to face me.
I nod, starting from my first day here. I explained the notes and the gifts as best as I could. He asked if I still had anything, but apart from the letter on the bed, I had thrown them all away. He looked so disheartened by that and I won’t lie, it kind of stung. Being a disappointment is very obviously a trigger of mine.
I watch as he steps over to my bed, his eyes calculated as they roam over the rumpled comforter.
“And you’re sure it wasn’t one of your boyfriends?” he asks.
“What?” I nearly choke out.
He turns to look at me over his shoulder.
“Coach? Walcott? No?”
“They aren’t my,” I begin to say. “How did you…”
“You’re not subtle, Siren. You wear your emotions clear as day. You should work on that, it’s a dangerous habit.”
My stomach clenches as I swallow roughly and nod.
“It wasn’t them, they wouldn’t…what do I do?” I ask, hating how much my voice shakes.
“Be on alert, keep your eye out for absolutely anything that could clue you in to whoever this is,” he says as he turns to face me. “They seem to be infatuated with you which is good.”
I let out a hollow laugh as I shake my head.
“I have a stalker, how is that good?”
His eyes look straight at mine, nearly sucking the breath out of my lungs as he speaks.
“It’s better than them being violent.”
Oh god, I can’t handle this. Maybe I should call my dad. Not sure what he could, or even would be willing to do, but this is his school. I haven’t done anything wrong. It’s not like it’s my fault some creep has become interested in me.
“Why does part of me wish it just would have been you?” I groan, running a hand through my hair as I do.
He takes a step closer to me, his eyes never wavering from mine as his chest brushes against me.
“You don’t, trust me. Once I set my sights on something, I’ll stop at nothing to have it. You couldn’t handle what all that would entail, Siren.”
I feel my pulse quickening under his stare and I’m not sure if it’s out of fear or anticipation. I couldn’t tell you what I’m anticipating. I suppose that’s the point. I have no idea what to expect from him. Yesterday I thought he hated me on a cellular level for zero reason, an hour ago I thought that he was stalking me and now…I’m not sure what to think about Vincent Griggs.
Chapter Twenty Six
Vincent
Her silky blonde hair falls at her sides as she runs her fingers through it. She’s walking through the courtyard with Bartlett as always. They are discussing something that forces my Siren to toss her head back and laugh, that melodic sound running through my entire body. As usual, I’m ten steps behind her and even more usual, she has no idea.
I don’t know what it was about her that caught my eye. It could have been those wildly bright green eyes, her porcelain doll-like face or her curves that make me want to sink my teeth into every single inch of her. Or it could be something deeper, more poetic, like my soul recognizing hers and demanding I claim her.
It wasn’t an accident that I happened to stumble upon her in the cemetery, when Putnam pushed her into that hole. I overheard her promising Walcott that she would go to the bonfire, so I followed them to the party. I paid even closer attention to her when Bartlett fucked off to get laid, leaving her vulnerable and for the taking.
Of course, I had to follow her when I saw where she was being led. When I watched Putnam lay his hands on her, I wanted to gut him right then and there, bury him right beside all the scorned bodies rotting in the earth beneath our feet. I didn’t though, I sat back, and I watched. Observed.
I watched on as she screamed and begged. I saw how, for a moment, Walcott almost defied his future leader before heeling like the good little bitch he is. I studied how she panicked and fought, trying everything she could think of. I’ll be honest, I was disappointed she gave up so quickly. I thought she had more of a fighting spirit. Then again, my Siren doesn’t belong on land, she belongs in the water, right alongside me.
Meeting her came at an unexpected time, and I’ve all but abandoned my prior goals and duties, even to the Brethren, to keep my eyes on her. Hence, why this stalker situation is so frustrating.
I can’t blame her for assuming that I was the one stalking her, in her defense, I am. Just not in the noticeable way that makes her afraid and fearful of her safety, which she should be. From what she has told me, I anticipate their efforts will only increase. Which means I don’t have long to figure out who it is and eliminate them from the equation. Hopefully I can utilize the skills the Brethren so graciously gifted me, to finish the task as quickly and efficiently as possible.
It's already been a week since the dead man walking broke into my Siren’s room and violated her privacy. One week, since he officially signed his death certificate and one week of me going down the list to figure out who the fuck it is. I have a few leads to look into this afternoon, a few guys from the football team that were discussing her in the locker room the other day. It could be nothing, but it could be everything and there is only one way for me to find out.
For a moment, I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts that I almost miss him. Almost miss when a hand darts out from the wall of thick boxwood bushes and latches onto her arm, dragging her into the covered hide away. My steps quicken and I’m about to reach for my gun tucked in the back of my pants when my footsteps freeze, and a familiar voice hits my ears.
“I missed you, baby,” Coach Ronan says, followed by the sound of kissing.
My lip curls up at that, anger pulsing through my body at the thought of him touching her, kissing her. Doesn’t everyone understand that she is clearly mine? She’s not ready for me yet but she will be, soon, and when she is, I’ll hack off every limb belonging to anyone that’s ever touched her.
Stepping away, I find a causal spot to the side of the bushes to lean against the wall, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it between my lips while I listen.
“What are you doing tonight?” he asks.
“Nothing, why?” my Siren responds.
“I want to spend some time with you, away from here. Do you want to come to my place tonight?”
“Oh, sure. Of course! When?”
“Now,” he says, before their feet shuffle slightly.
“Is it safe? You know, you said we had to be careful when we’re seen together and—”
“Why do you think we’re talking in the bushes, baby?” he chuckles softly, a giggle coming from her that has my eyes rolling.
“I’ve taken care of everything. It’s safe. Meet me in the south parking lot in ten minutes, yeah?”
“Okay,” she says, a soft mewling sound escaping her that I can only assume is from him kissing what’s mine. Again.
I take another drag, allowing the nicotine to fill my lungs before breathing out the puff of smoke. In the next moment, Ronan emerges, casually walking towards the staff parking lot as if he wasn’t pulling students into the bushes to plan a secret rendezvous. I knew leaving a tip for the headmaster, that Coach Ronan wasn’t behaving appropriately with some intended students wouldn’t do much. He’s a Putnam after all, but I figured it would make him be a little more discreet, so I didn’t have to see him blatantly touch her in broad daylight. Seems to have worked, after their little chat the other day.
Ronan is an idiot. I don’t give a fuck how bad he wants her, how bad he craves her. Every time he touches her, looks at her for too long or makes plans to take her off campus, he puts her life in danger. Either he doesn’t give a fuck about her life or he’s just reckless with it. Either way, he’s a danger to her and a threat to me.
Wanting her is not an excuse. If it was, I’d have taken her for myself the very first night, Asher Putnam be damned. I would have placed a bullet right between the piece of shit’s eyes the first day he spoke disrespectfully to her, and whisked her away where even the Brethren could never find us. Fortunately for her, and him I suppose, I have more self-control than that. I know better than to give in to my desires, my cravings and I do a fine fucking job of putting on a show.
For all my Siren knows, I practically despise her. She no doubt assumes that I couldn’t care less about her or her wellbeing. As if I wasn’t ready to burn the world around us to a crisp, so she wouldn’t be burdened with having to deal with another living person apart from me. As if I’m not prepared to beat, gut and kill anyone who breathes in her direction. I’ve already made a list and believe me, when the moment is right I’ll begin working down that list. Starting with Asher fucking Putnam.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as my Siren emerges from the bushes, brushing her hair down so it doesn’t look like her fiancé’s uncle was just mauling her on the other side of this foliage. I let her get far enough ahead of me before I pull it out, a sour feeling settling in my stomach when I read the message.
Unknown: 1247 Carey Dr Cambridge, MA. 51(M). Self-care.
The messages come from burner phones to burner phones. I get a new one each week and it’s never been clear to me which members send out the requests. I only know who sanctions them, and of course he’s the same son of a bitch who sanctions everything in this wicked fucking world we’re trapped in.
When the messages come through, they are intended to be vague for obvious reasons. An address, age and identified gender along with the task. Some of the tasks are as simple as a little rough up, what they code as playtime. Others are, a quick in and out kill, like ‘one and done’. Then, there are more detailed requests like this one. It’s not enough for me to take care of them, I have to make it look like a suicide, which honestly isn’t as hard as it sounds.
Most of the Legacies haven’t assumed their position yet. That part usually comes after graduation. Due to the lack of eliminators we currently have though, I was inducted early. I still am kept in the dark about most things, just like the other Legacies and I don’t have my ring or privileges yet as an official Elder. Yet, I’m still required to perform the duties of such.
Similar to rushing into a fraternity, before you can join, you must prove your dedication and worthiness. So far I’ve yet to disappoint, and will continue that way until it suits me otherwise.
