11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Vincent

W e are sitting on the couch, my siren on my lap, exactly where she should be when the doorbell rings. I’m already pulling out my phone to check the security footage when Skyla shakes her head and laughs.

“It’s just Maggie.”

I frown at her. “You never know. What does she want?”

“Uh, to see me?” She laughs.

I snort. “Join the fucking club.”

I’m starting to get more than a little pissed off that I haven’t gotten more one on one time with my siren. It was bad enough when she had two boyfriends and a fiancé she couldn’t stand. Now she has three boyfriends, a husband that she supposedly loves, and Wesley. Of course, I don’t count Wesley as a fourth boyfriend because I don’t trust him. Not with Skyla, not with anything.

It’s his fault she was taken, his fault she endured hell, his fault we almost lost her. Him showing up out of the blue after all these years is suspicious, to say the least, and the way he magically fell for Skyla in the same moment…I don’t trust him one fucking bit.

If I voiced my gut feeling, I’m sure I’d be dismissed as being pissed off that I have to share her with yet another person. Which, albeit is a bullet point on the list, but it’s not my main reason.

It’s also a reason that I don’t like Bartlett. She makes far too many sexual comments about Skyla for my liking, and the fact that she was fucking Skyla’s tormentor all summer doesn’t bode well for her in my book. Sure, none of them had met Skyla back then, but that’s not the point. Brenton has publicly attacked Skyla twice since she and Maggie met, and guess whose dorm room I watched Bartlett leave at three in the morning two days ago? You guessed it, Bridgette motherfucking Brenton.

My siren is so sweet, but she invites entirely too many untrustworthy snakes into her life. I’d be happy to make them all disappear if I knew she wouldn’t hate me forever when I did.

Asher answers the door, and Bartlett blows past him as she moves through the house. Skyla jumps out of my lap, which pisses me the fuck off, before jumping into Bartlett’s arms for a hug. I can feel myself glaring at her, but I don’t give a fuck. Bitch needs to let go of the love of my life and now.

Lucky for her, she does, but Skyla loops her arm through Bartlett’s and begins dragging her upstairs.

“Where are you going?” I call out.

“To catch up!” Skyla smiles, oblivious to my souring mood.

“And fuck!” Bartlett teases with a smile that has my eyes narrowing.

Asher shakes his head as he walks into the living room, Liam following behind him before jumping onto his bed. He lifts his walking boot onto the mattress, and I raise an eyebrow at him.

“When are you getting that fucking thing off? I’m sick of a bed in the middle of the goddamn living room.”

“Tomorrow,” Liam says.

“And it’s my goddamn living room,” Asher snaps. “It’ll stay here for as long as it needs to be.”

“Oh, my apologies, didn’t mean to offend your boyfriend,” I taunt.

Asher’s jaw tenses as he takes a step towards me before Liam grabs his hand, stopping him with a head shake.

“Aw, look at that. You guys can even communicate with no words.”

“What the fuck is your problem, Griggs?” Liam huffs.

“Probably hasn’t gotten laid in a while,” Wesley says with a bored tone as he and Ronan stride into the living room. “Where is Skyla at?”

A door shuts, followed by the sound of the girls giggling, and I mumble under my breath.

“Probably getting her pussy eaten by her bestie.”

“Hot, I want to watch,” Wesley says as he grabs a bag of chips and pops one into his mouth.

“Get in line, man. I was trying to encourage that shit in class the other day, I swear to God, Sky almost went for it,” Liam says.

I look over to see Ronan typing on his phone, a pinched look to his face.

“What’s wrong?”

His head snaps up to me as he pockets his phone and shakes his head.

“Nothing.”

I look at him blankly but don’t say a word as his eyes move to where Asher is now sitting on the edge of the bed beside Liam. He looks around the room before coming back to Asher.

“Asher’s birthday is coming up. Christopher and I are making arrangements for the ceremony.”

Ah, yes. The induction ceremony. Up until now, legacies have been doing the Brethren’s bidding while still being a living, breathing human. After that ceremony, their souls are practically sold to the devil. Ironic, since the Brethren was founded by extremist Puritan Protestants.

I don’t actually know what the ceremony entails since I haven’t been inducted either. Though my birthday isn’t for a while, it’s only a matter of time. Then again, I lost my soul a long fucking time ago, so what’s the point?

“Happy birthday to me,” Asher drawls sarcastically. “What about Skyla and my wedding? Has he said anything about that?”

“Why? You want to rub it in our faces?” I sneer.

Asher turns to look at me. “Only a lot.”

“Jesus, you guys fucking hate each other. How do you make it work?” Wesley mutters.

We all stay silent for several seconds before Liam speaks.

“Skyla is like a force. I’m pretty sure she could cure world hunger if she put her mind to it.”

Surprisingly, everyone in the room lets out some variation of a laugh as we nod in agreement.

“No, Asher,” Ronan says, redirecting the conversation. “He hasn’t said anything about the wedding. Honestly, I don’t think he’s worried about it right now.”

“Why not?” Asher asks.

Ronan pauses for a moment before he shakes his head.

“I don’t know.”

Well, that doesn’t sound good. Though, when is there anything ever good about a fucking Putnam. My eyes burn into the side of Asher’s head, flashes of that night flickering on repeat in my head. The night Asher killed Nate is a night that I’ll never escape, no matter how hard I try. The fucked up part is that I bet anything Asher doesn’t even realize he’s responsible, doesn’t even understand how much blood is on his hands. Or maybe he does and doesn’t care.

My blood begins to boil, hatred gnawing at every fiber of my body. It would be all too easy to reach inside my boot, grab my knife and stab the piece of fucking shit in the neck. I know I can’t, though, and the reason I can’t is the beautiful siren upstairs.

Goddamnit. Fuck this.

I jump to my feet, storming up the stairs without a care as to how loud my boots sound through the house against the echoing floor. When I reach the bedroom door, I practically kick it down. Maggie is laying sideways at the foot of the bed while Skyla is sitting crisscrossed. They are speaking earnestly about something when I storm in.

“Vincent, is everything oka—”

“Bartlett, you have exactly five seconds to get out of here,” I say.

“Why, are you guys gonna fuck? I’m staying if you are. Just because I prefer women doesn’t mean I don’t want to watch a hot straight couple fuck.”

“Five,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Four.” She raises a challenging eyebrow that has my building anger practically blinding, and Skyla must sense it.

“Give us a minute,” she says softly.

Maggie huffs out an exaggerated sigh but pushes off the bed, stepping out of the room as I shrug off my leather jacket.

“What’s going on?” Skyla asks gently, that soft lilt already doing something to me.

It’s not enough. I’m fucking furious, and only one thing will settle me down.

“I need you, now,” I say quickly as I pull my cock out of my pants.

She blinks once before she’s pulling down her leggings. I push into her without a second’s hesitation, a feral growl leaving me as I do.

“Shit,” she hisses as I roll my hips hard, picking up a punishing pace in the next moment.

“What’s going on?” she groans.

“Nothing,” I say, blinking hard in an attempt to clear the rage that is currently clouding my vision.

“You’re so mad, babe. You’re shaking,” she says gently.

“I hate him,” I snarl. “I put up with him for you, only for you, but fuck, I hate him!”

“Who?” she asks as I snap my hips, my eyes dropping to hers as understanding crosses her face. “Asher?”

Just hearing his name on her lips has my anger ratcheting, and I recognize that I haven’t felt this out of control in a long time. I do my best to fuck her hard, trying to chase the demons away, push the nightmares away. Nothing works, though.

“What do you need? Tell me?” Skyla begs.

“Blood. His fucking blood rolling down my knife,” I gnash.

Her voice is quiet as she speaks.

“Use me.”

“What?” I snap.

“Use me, like you did in the cabin. Use me.”

The idea is intoxicating, but I don’t enjoy hurting her, marking her. Though I won’t deny, out of all the women I’ve been with, all the ones who I’ve played with using a knife, not a single one of them made it feel like pure ecstasy.

Despite my hesitation, I lift my boot, reaching inside and grabbing the knife. I flick the blade open, and I hear Skyla’s breath intake, a nervous look passing across her face as she looks at me. My hand is digging into her fleshy thigh, and I press the silver blade against her skin, slowly dragging a line along it as a trail of blood follows in its wake. I do another and another and another until blood is covering my hand, smearing across her entire upper thigh. She whimpers softly but doesn’t ask me to stop. My cuts are shallow, so shallow they won’t even scar, but the bloodthirsty demons inside me crave more.

I move to her other leg as I draw more and more lines. More and more blood. It feels so empowering, so spiritual. Skyla Parris is my goddamn religion. From now until the end of my days, I’ll happily kneel at her altar, worship her feet and taste her blood.

Pulling out of her, I bend down, dragging my tongue along her bloody thigh. She winces at it, but I mimic the move on her other thigh, that familiar copper taste springing across my tongue as I shove my cock back into her.

My eyes practically roll into the back of my head as I fuck her faster than before, my fingers playing with her bloody thighs, a sense of calm rolling over me with it. Yes, I’m fucked up, no, there is no hope for me.

I look down into those big, beautiful eyes, and between them, her soft whimpers, her pretty blood, and her sweet, sweet cunt, I come fucking hard. My cock pulses, throbbing and jerking inside her as I push it deeper and deeper, forcing her body to take every single drop I have to give. Her pussy pulses, and her screams echo through the house as she follows right behind me.

When her orgasm has passed, my body collapses on top of her, my head tucked into the crook of her neck; the only sound to be heard is our ragged breathing. I feel her hand lift to my head, her fingers running through my black hair soothingly. I close my eyes on instinct, enjoying this moment, savoring it.

“What did Asher do, baby?” she asks softly.

My eyes spring open, but all I see is her beautiful blonde hair. The words are stuck in my throat, my own demons keeping them locked in a chokehold as I grapple with how to respond. I don’t want to respond. I don’t want to talk about it, but I know she won’t accept that. Truthfully, she deserves to hear it. Deserves to know what a monster her ‘husband’ is.

“Asher killed Nathaniel.”

The silence that follows my words is deafening, like I can hear Skyla rationalizing it in her head already. Making up every excuse in the book for him.

“What do you mean?” she asks carefully.

I can hear the doubt in her voice. Why would she take my word on this when she has Putnam whispering into her ear? The hurt consumes me, but I bury it quickly, pushing up and out of her before I stand.

I get dressed in a flash and turn to head out the door as Skyla sits up.

“Vincent, stop. Talk to me. Vincent!” she shouts as I step out of the door and slam it shut. The sound echoes through the house, and I tear down the stairs as fast as I can, heading for my bike. I need to get the fuck away from Salem for a while.

Maybe forever.