Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Nova

My throat feels like it’s been fucked by Sasquatch!

After I ran out of the locker room to find Waylen, he took one look at me and ushered us out of there without even giving me a chance to say bye to Vivian. I shot her a text on the way home spewing some bullshit about not feeling well and I would see her tomorrow. Waylen has been shooting me worried glances ever since we got home but I don’t say anything. How the fuck do I tell my best friend that I think I have moved into a town that is ruled by a secret society that is run by my fucking stepfather!

“You look like shit.” I snort. Waylen shoots me a smile but it doesn’t reach his murky brown eyes, his curly hair drops forward onto his forehead so I reach out and brush it back.

“You say the sweetest things,” I coo.

He fans himself and bats his lashes. “Oh darling, only to you, my love.” Both of us burst out laughing, he is the one person I can rely on to always bring me out of a sour mood and cheer me up without even trying. He props his head on his hand and looks down at me. I sigh knowing he isn’t going to let this go, so I reach over to my side drawer and pull out the two letters from my uncle and the postcard thing from two-horns. “What’s this?” he asks as I hand them to him.

“Just read them and then I’ll explain.” I watch a range of emotions splay across his face as he reads the letters. His jaw hangs out as he finishes and looks at me.

“You have a brother.” I nod. “You have an uncle.” I humph and nod again. “Who is this one from?” he asks, waving the postcard. I push my bottom lip to the side and debate how to explain that one to him.

“Uh, that one is…” I debate over my words for a second trying to think of the best way to explain. “Well, you see there is a bit of a story but it’s kind of a long one and I am super tired?—”

“Good try, you little shit, start explaining it to me now.” I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, huffing my displeasure but Waylen ignores my pouting and waits for me to tell him who the hell the Filthy Few is. The real question though… how much do I tell him?

I flick my eyes to him as I say, “Don’t get mad though, okay?”

I can see he wants to argue but instead just says, “Okay.”

“Okay, I guess in order for you to understand I have to tell you what happened from when I arrived here.” And so I do, I tell him everything from the night of the bonfire and how Vox and his friends have been assholes, the masked men, my uncle leaving me notes. I tell him everything except for the fact that I am fucking two-horns. That is something he just doesn’t need to know and something I am not comfortable sharing, that is my darkest fantasy that I am living out and I won’t have him judge me for that.

“Jesus Christ, Nova!” He leaps from the bed and begins pacing my room while I sit up, clutching a pillow to my chest and watch him, hoping he will calm down. He stops his pacing every few seconds to look at me, then shakes his head and continues his pacing while muttering to himself.

“Waylen, I need you to stop pacing and just use your words!” He freezes and pins me with an ice-cold glare that has me sitting up ramrod straight on the bed.

“What the fuck do I say?” I flinch at the harsh tone of his voice. “You have been lying to me for weeks. We agreed that we would never hide shit from each other and here you are keeping the biggest secret of them all and keeping me in the dark.” Guilt churns inside me and I drop my gaze from his, unable to stand the look of hurt in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to lie, I swear I just?—”

He cuts in before I can finish. “I’m not angry at you. I’m just pissed that you have been dealing with shit alone and wouldn’t let me help. How am I supposed to leave you now?” I snap my head up and stare at him in surprise.

“What?”

His features soften as he moves toward the bed and drops down onto the edge of it. “I can’t just go back home and leave you alone with your crazy-ass stepbrother and this crew of masked assholes chasing your tail.”

I scrunch my face. “No one says chasing tail .” He chuckles and shrugs.

“Quit calling me out, I’m still reeling after learning all of this shit so I get a free pass.” I soften and smile at my best friend, unloading all of this shit, and being able to finally tell him the truth feels freeing. “What do you plan to do about all of this?”

A sigh escapes me as I contemplate how to answer him. I wish I could sit here and say that I know exactly what my next move is but that’s bullshit. “I don’t know, Way-way. I’m so confused. Ever since I found that file in Thomas’ office I feel like I am in some sort of thriller movie.”

“What exactly did that file say?”

“Virgil Hatchett’s death wasn’t an accident. The coroner's report proves that and it also listed Edmund Tempest’s death which wasn’t an accident either,” I whisper, feeling sick to my stomach about this information.

“Jesus, so your new stepfather is a murderer?”

I groan and flop back against the pillows. “It appears that way,” I mutter.

“Okay. So, no one knows what he did and everyone thinks their deaths were accidents.” I nod. “If that’s the case then why the hell are those assholes picking on you at school and why are three masked guys coming after you and who the fuck is this secret uncle?”

“When you say it all out loud like that it sounds…”

“Crazy as fuck like a horror movie?” he supplies. I lull my head to the side and pin him with a deadpan look that has him smiling. “We need to find someone who can help us…” He clamps his mouth closed and stares down at me with wide eyes.

I sit upright and stare at my friend with worry. “What’s wrong?”

He reaches out and grips my arms in a haste. “I know how we find out the truth about all of this but you aren’t going to like how we do it.”

I search his eyes trying to decipher what he’s thinking, but I see nothing but resolution. “What are you thinking?” I ask softly, slightly terrified of what his answer might be. With how in tuned we are with each other, I know he is thinking the same thing I have been.

“We need to ask the Filthy Few for a favor.” His ominous words hang between us for a tense moment, until I tear free of his hold, jump from the bed and begin pacing the room. He has no idea what he is asking. It’s not his fault because I refused to admit that I have been fucking one of them. I can’t explain but I feel a connection to two horns, it’s like I know him. “Nova?” I wave my hand ignoring him as I continue pacing my room trying to think of another way but I’m running out of time. Thomas, Mom and Nexus get back on Sunday and I don’t know if I will be able to stay under the same roof as him without knowing the truth.

“What if we call the police?” I hedge.

Waylen pins me with a dumbfounded look. “You are the poor girl whose mother married a rich ass real estate tycoon, who do you think they are going to believe? Plus, if what this masked crew says is true, then they would be the ones to help us find out who the fuck Thomas really is and what this Haven Saints thing is.”

I chew on my bottom lip as I contemplate everything and weigh up my options. “If we do this, then we have to go after Homecoming.”

“Skip the fucking dance?—”

“If I skip the dance Vivian will never forgive me and if I don’t show I can’t guarantee that Vox and the other’s won’t snitch to Nexus that I never showed. If we are wrong about all of this, I can’t let Thomas catch on to the fact I think he killed my friends’ fathers.”

“Friends?” I cringe and shoot him a sheepish smile.

“I know what I have told you sounds bad but they aren’t… terrible?”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you asking me or telling me, babe?”

“Both?” Waylen and I spend the next few hours making a plan for tomorrow. I realize he is right, my only hope of finding out the truth is to ask the fucking favor and be in their debt! Waylen is fast asleep beside me while I lay here staring up at the ceiling with worry churning inside me, a favor this big is going to cost me and I’m scared to know what the price is going to be.

I startle awake to the feeling of a gloved hand over my mouth. My eyes are wide in fear but when the soft glow of the moons lighting allows me to see the mask, I relax at the sight of his two horns. He doesn’t say anything when he clamps his other hand around my throat and drags me out of my bed. I bite my tongue to keep from lashing out at him as he drags me across the room to my bathroom. He closes the door and locks it. I reach for the light switch but he just smacks my hand away and releases me, not taking a step back, leaving me trapped between him and the wall.

Call me crazy but I can feel the anger wafting off him in waves and the slight hint of fear I feel inside me has me feeling light headed and intoxicated by the prospect of what he will do to me.

“You want him to die?” he says, keeping his voice low. His words snap me out of my lust-filled haze.

“Don’t you fucking touch him!” I snap.

His hand wraps around my throat, his thumb stroking the underside of my jaw as he tilts my head up to meet his dark gaze. I may not be able to see his eyes clearly but I can feel the heat in his gaze when he runs it over me.

“You thought this was a good idea?” Even with the voice distorter I can hear the anger that laces his tone.

“What idea?” I rasp out.

His free hand grips my hip, the leather of his glove chaffs against my bare skin sending a shiver down my spine. “Wearing this and allowing him to sleep next to what is mine.”

My eyes widen at the dominance and jealousy I feel wafting off him. I look down and take in the sight of my crop top and sleep shorts. He’s never seemed to mind my sleeping attire before so I am concluding that the fact Waylen is seeing me in this is what he doesn’t like.

“We’re not—” My reply is cut off when he cups my pussy, drawing a gasp from me.

“Did he touch this?” he asks as his hold on my throat tightens and he leans down scraping his mask against my cheek. The roughness of his mask against my skin feels unholy and taboo, the fact I have no idea who he is only adds to the appeal. In a move so bold and risky I reach up and lock my arms around his neck. I feel him stiffen but he doesn’t pull away which just fuels me to push on.

“I wore this for you , not him or anyone else.” My words seem to ease some of the tension radiating off of him. He releases his hold on my throat, only to grip the back of my neck. He tugs me forward until my face is pressed against his mouth, I dart my tongue out needing to taste him only to be disappointed when I taste the mask and not him. Call me deluded or fucked in the head but I don’t think I ever want to know who the man is beneath the mask. I love being able to indulge in my dark fantasy without being judged. Being hunted by him and at his mercy every night is something I never thought would be something I would ever get the pleasure to experience.

“On your knees, witch .” There it is again! That fucking name is starting to haunt me and a part of me is now terrified that my masked fuck buddy is someone who knows me from school. I know it isn’t Vox or his stupid friends because they have all made their feelings clear to me, none of them would touch me. Not that I would want them too, well maybe I do want one of them to touch me but I would rather chew razor blades than admit I want to be touched by Vox Hatchett. I mean, Vox did kiss me the other night and I can’t seem to get that fucking kiss or the feeling of his hands on me out of my head. “You think of no one but me!” Two horns snaps angrily as he shoves me to my knees. I whimper when I hit the tiled floor.

“I wasn’t thinking about anyone?—”

“Your eyes told me you were.”

“How the hell would you know?” I bite back as he begins to unfasten his pants. I hate that I am pissed off at him but my mouth is watering at the prospect of being able to suck his cock.

“Was it the fucker in your bed?” he growls as he grips his cock in his hand, stroking it, the sight alone has me clenching my thighs together to try and dull the ache. “Answer me.”

“No!” I admit.

“Who then?” he asks as he rubs the head of his cock against my lips, smearing his pre-cum. I’m powerless to stop my tongue from darting out and tasting him. He groans when I taste the head of his cock. I moan at the taste of him, sweet and salty.

“My asshole neighbor,” I admit as I grip the backs of his thighs and flick my gaze to him as I open my mouth waiting for him to fill it.

For a moment he does nothing aside from stare down at me, the pressure of his gaze has me fighting not to squirm. This whole moment has me on edge—hiding in the bathroom with my secret stranger while my best friend is asleep in my bed in the next room.

“Vox isn’t yours to fuck. I am.” My eyes widen. I choke on my own gasp when he thrusts his cock into my mouth. I choke on him but he doesn’t allow me to back up. He tangles his fingers in my hair and holds me in place. I rap on the backs of his thighs, telling him I can’t breathe but he still doesn’t allow me to move. “You want air? Breath through your fucking nose because you are going to take all of me as punishment for allowing that cunt into your bed.” It shocks me more that he is pissed about Waylen in my bed rather than me admitting to thinking about Vox. My mind is spiraling when I piece together that I said neighbor, not Vox, but he knew exactly who I was referring to!

When he finally pulls out I gasp so loud I fear the sound may wake Waylen. I barely have enough time to drag in a full breath before he is thrusting forward again, making me gag. Tears leak from my eyes, spit drips down my chin coating my throat and chest.

“Swirl your tongue, I want you to taste every fucking inch of me so you know who the fuck you belong to!” His words shouldn’t turn me on but they do. I know I am fucked in the head for getting off on this shit but I can’t deny my body’s reaction to him or the way he uses me and demands his pleasure that I am giving him.

I give up on rational thought, my grip on his thighs tightening as I press up higher on my knees and begin to take over. When he realizes what I’m doing his hold on my hair loosens, allowing me more freedom to bob up and down on his cock. Heady moans begin to tumble from my lips as I find my rhythm and suck his dick like a starving addict desperate for their next hit.