9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Skyla

A fter Liam gave me two more orgasms in the shower, thankfully not from penetration because, my god, I might need an icepack down there, we curled up in bed and watched a movie. At around one in the morning, I couldn't sleep, feeling restless, so I decided to head downstairs. Maybe a drink and a snack will help.

When I come downstairs, I find Asher on the couch, eyes on the ceiling and a bottle of bourbon on the table–no glass, just the bottle. His gaze comes to me immediately, silently tracking me as I make my way into the kitchen.

I tell myself I'm not going to speak to him, that I'm going to pretend like he doesn't exist. Somehow though, like an addict that gives in no matter how toxic they know the poison is, I engage with him.

"Your bed not comfortable or something?" I ask, as I grab a piece of bread and pop it into the toaster before pouring myself a glass of water.

"Too loud," he answers stiffly. "Hard to sleep."

I turn around, leaning my back against the counter as I cross my arms over my chest. He's sitting up now, forearms resting on his knees as he watches me.

"If you're looking for an apology, you won't find one. Get some noise cancelling headphones or something."

"Not sure even those would drown out my wife's screams as my best friend fucks her into the mattress," he scoffs.

I roll my eyes at him. "I'm not your wife. Just because we did a creepy cult ceremony in front of our parents and practically every fucking man in this society, doesn't make us married. We'd need a marriage certificate for it to even be semi-legal and—"

"Look on the counter," he says, as he nods towards the counter beside me.

There is a folder there that I hadn't noticed before. My brows furrow as I lift it up, my heart coming to a full stop for several seconds as I read the words scrawled across the top.

Certificate of Marriage. Along with Asher's name and signature, then my name and signature.

"What the fuck?" I snap. "I didn't sign this? How did they get my signature!"

"You really don't have a clue how powerful the Brethren is. Do you, Princess?"

I hate that a small part of me still responds to him. That one moment, I have all this anger and hate for him. Then the next, he uses that stupid pet name, and my heart beats out of rhythm. Thankfully, it's back to normal in no time and I'm able to hold on to the anger inside me.

"This is a forged signature. It isn't legal! It'll never hold up in court. I'll fight this and—"

"And what? Take it up to the Supreme Court? Even if you could, guess what? Does the name Chief Justice Eric Hutchinson sound familiar? He is their most senior member . The man that was standing to your father's right in that room, trying to hide his raging hard on. You. Can't. Fight. This."

With every word he speaks, he takes a step closer, until he's mere inches from me. His hands are braced on the counter behind me, eyes hardened and focused, as he leans down until we are eye to eye. Our noses bump against one another for a moment, but he's quick to create just another inch of distance so it doesn't happen again.

For several seconds, all that can be heard in this kitchen is our heavy breathing. My eyes flick back and forth between his, as he does the same. No matter what an asshole he is, there is still…something here and I hate myself for admitting it.

"I did what I did because I had to, Skyla, not because I wanted to. You put me in an impossible situation. I was trying to save us both."

"By hitting me?" I choke, my voice far more watery than I'd prefer. "By spitting on my face, like I was worthless? By calling me a stupid bitch, in a room full of people? Telling me that you could never love me?" I scoff, my voice wavering at the end.

His jaw is tense, but what looks like remorse flashes in his eyes before he shakes his head.

"You were told to be silent. In the moment, I had no other choice."

A humorless laugh escapes me as I shake my head.

"Keep telling yourself that, Asher. Whatever, it doesn't matter. At the end of the day, I was so wrong about you. Or I guess I could say I was right about you all along. You may think you're the next Jesus Christ himself, but you're nothing. You're a coward, you're a follower. You're weak ."

His nostrils flare, but he doesn't speak, and god help me, I can't stop.

"You sit there and judge me for trying to be happy, for trying to take whatever moments of happiness I can get. When I don't, I'm under my father's thumb, your father's or yours.

When I'm not trying to just focus on the good, I'm worried about a stalker who wants everyone I care about dead. Or I'm worried about one of the guys turning on me, just like you did. I'm constantly worried and afraid, but I don't want to be. So, I'm going to have a lot of sex, loud sex, as often as I can. If you have a problem with that, frankly, I don't give a flying fuck."

"I didn't say you couldn't," he grits out. "I'm just saying…"

His words trail off as he looks at me, indecision and confliction heavy in those hazel eyes.

"What?" I snap.

My word seems to break something inside him; maybe it was patience, or maybe it was compassion, like he had any of that to begin with. Either way, his fists slam down on the counter beside me, forcing me to jump before he spins on his heel.

"Fuck this!" he barks out, before grabbing his keys on the table and swaying a bit in his steps. He reaches for the open bottle of bourbon before heading out the front door.

"Don't you fucking dare drink and drive!" I shout at him as he throws the door open.

I follow him, yelling at him from the porch.

"Asher! Get back here! There are more people on the road than you, you selfish fucking prick! You're gonna kill someone!"

"Don't worry, Princess. If you're lucky, the only dead body tonight will be mine," he says with a bitter sneer, before firing up one of his cars and peeling out of the driveway.

Motherfucker.

Storming upstairs, I grab my phone off the nightstand. I'm still amazed Liam can sleep so peacefully through all of that bullshit. I dial 911 and wait as the phone rings.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I'd like to report a drunk driver."

I don't know if Asher got picked up by the cops last night or if he slept it off in his car. All I know is that he didn't come home last night, and I wasn't sure if I was relieved or irritated by it. The cops seemed very concerned, until I mentioned his name. Then, in an instant, the seriousness fell away and morphed into a lackadaisical bored tone, assuring me that they'd be on the lookout for him.

One hundred bucks says they didn't even send anyone out for him. They probably just deleted the call log and moved on. God, this town is so fucked up.

Liam had to leave this morning to go talk with some other professors before class. Honestly, with how often he's talking with his teachers, I wonder how well he's doing in school. Does he struggle? I bet his asshole parents love that. We don't talk about them often because Liam can't stand them, and I can't stand the way they treat him. So it's a mutually beneficial ‘do not discuss' topic.

Glancing to the chair beside me, I notice that Maggie isn't here yet. She's almost always here before me. Weird.

Pulling out my laptop, I bring up yesterday's notes and begin scanning over them when I feel a presence beside me. A familiar pair of glasses, auburn hair and timid smile greet me. I can't help but smile back.

"Hi, Andrew," I greet.

He nods, his eyes flicking from side to side.

"Hi, Skyla. I just wanted to check on you…after….you know," he says, casting a nervous glance around him.

My smile fades as understanding passes through me. I give him a small nod, my lips smashing together in a flat line.

"Thanks."

"That wasn't right," he continues. "It was disgusting, inhumane. I couldn't believe it, and I wanted to stop it. You know that, right? I would have if I could?" he says, his hand covering my own in what looks like panic.

I tilt my head to the side curiously, unsure why his reaction is so extreme. He acts like I'm about to flip out on him, like everything is his fault, like he has some obligation to my well-being.

"It's fine, Andrew. I'd just like to forget about it."

"How can you?" he laughs, a bitter sound coming from this typically sweet and quiet boy. "I have nightmares about it, every single night. All I can picture is your face twisted up in pain, and Asher…" he trails off, his jaw tightening and fists clenching.

My eyes widen in alarm. I've never seen such sharp mood swings from someone so quickly. I'm thoroughly confused and unsure how to proceed. So, I give him a tight-lipped smile and a soft nod.

"Really, it's okay. I knew what the night was going to entail. It was…unpleasant, but I'm okay now. Really, thank you for being concerned for me."

His fists slowly unclench, and his jaw softens. What looks like relief seems to pour into his eyes, as he blows out a breath and nods.

"I'm glad. If you need anything, let me know. I'd be happy to leak Asher's text messages to the school, adjust his grades or doctor whatever you'd like and send it to the Brethren."

My brows furrow at that.

"You can do all of that?"

He nods. "In my sleep. My father runs a tech security company. It's the biggest and most advanced on the entire east coast."

"And you're like his protégé?" I guess.

The tips of his ears pink up a bit, as well as his cheeks, as he gives me a bashful nod.

"I've learned a lot, and I'd be happy to make him suffer, at least a tenth of the pain that he has put you through.

Honestly, his offer is tempting. Might not be the worst thing to keep tucked into my back pocket.

"Thank you," I say. "I'll definitely think about it."

He nods happily before plopping down into his usual seat in front of me. My head tilts to the side as I watch him carefully, still more than a little thrown at our interaction when Liam and Maggie walk in together.

Liam gets a dopey grin as he practically jogs over to me, before Maggie takes her seat beside me. Dropping down into the other chair to my right, Liam scoots in as close as he can until I'm practically on his lap.

"What part of this is playing it cool?" I ask, though I can't fight off the grin spreading across my face.

"All of it, I'm as cool as a cucumber, babygirl," he grins with a wink.

A throat clears from the front of the room, pulling my attention from Liam.

"So sorry, Mr. Walcott. Are we interrupting?" Professor Corwin asks with an unimpressed look.

Liam, not having an ounce of shame in his body, shrugs and gives the professor one of his winning smiles.

"A little, but for the sake of education, I'll let it slide."

Professor Corwin lets out an irritated huff before shaking his head and beginning his lecture. He knows that Liam is untouchable, arguing with him is a futile act. He's a Legacy, and clearly, that means everything in Salem. I cast Liam a headshake, and he just gives me a goofy smile, shrugging again before facing the front.

Such a little shit sometimes.