Blood Ties (11 page)

“Yeah,” replied Jen with interest.

“Can you text it to me
? It’s John. I’m going to add a short note that we met at Starbucks and it could be love.”

She picked up her phone and started messing with it.

“Who’s John,” Logan asked.

“High school ex-never-been-a-boyfriend. Soon to be classified as a stalker.”

He let out a big sigh.

“What was that for?”

“Just one less guy to worry about.”

Jen and I looked at each other. She raised her eyebrows. I shook my head. He rolled over on his side and closed his eyes.
I pulled up her text and sent the attachment to John. I spread my arms out happily on the carpet. That ought to throw a little water on the fire.

I listened to Parker’s snoring. Logan had joined in with the bowl of Cheetos going up and down on his stomach with
his deep breaths. Their snoring was lulling me to sleep. I yawned. “I can’t take it. I’m going home.”

“Want me to walk you home?” Dylan asked sleepily, his eyes closed.

“Nah, I’ll be safe. I’ll holler if I get lost.”

“Okay,” he replied.

Chapter 9

He brushed his lips against mine then pulled bac
k with a smile. His dark hair floated above me in a heavy mass. He laughed softly. “Should I kiss you again my sweet?”

I pouted. “That kind of kiss? Hardly a worthy kiss, one could hardly call it a kiss at all.”

“Greedy wench,” he whispered. “I should spank you for your insolence.”

I feigned an insult with wide eyes. “Spank me, whatever for? Have I injured you? Insulted your manhood?” I frowned. “Michel, I suspect you have always enjoyed spanking me.”

“Yes, my love, I confess. A small indulgence. Shall I spank you now?”

“You are so bizarre. I have never heard of such a thing.” I grasped his shoulders above me. “Besides, I am too old for a spanking. You should be ashamed.”

He lowered his face to mine and ran his warm lips across my cheeks and eyelids. “Mmmmm … I will have to think upon your words. Yes, now that I have thought upon it, you will be old enough to forgo the spanking when you are … let’s say … five and twenty. If you are very naughty, perhaps when you are old and gray.”

I huffed, shoving at his chest. “You want me to be naughty forever.”

“Yes, my mischievous love.”

He caught my wrists, moving them over my head as he leaned towards me. “Would you like to kiss me darling?”

I stretched up to kiss him. He was just out of reach. He smiled at me, teasingly. I tried again. This time my lips touched his, but it was the barest of butterfly kisses. I groaned in frustration.

“Such a delicate kiss. Shall I show you a true kiss my love?”

I smiled seductively, inviting him.

He leaned down and pressed his warm lips against my mouth, coaxing it open, his velvet-soft hair brushing against my cheeks. He kissed me deep, darting his tongue in to explore and I writhed as his hot warmth began to fill me, devour me. He slid up the hem of my cotton petticoat then pressed his knee between my legs up tight against me. I couldn’t help but grind against his thigh. It was more than exquisite. It was almost unbearable.

“Oh … my,” I gasped.

He chuckled and trailed his lips down my throat, nipping at my skin to stop at the swell of my breasts. He tore at my laces with his teeth, slowly pulling them undone, watching me, his brown eyes full of lustful, wicked thoughts. I watched him in fascination, whimpering for more, writhing under his torment.

He pulled down the front of my bodice to expose one breast. I moaned when he laved and sucked at the tight rosebud with his warm tongue, grazing against it with his teeth. I bucked underneath him, wrapped around his thigh, grinding against him.

He bit down.

I screamed as a white-hot pleasure exploded between my thighs.

He brushed his lips against my panting mouth. “And that, my dear is a kiss.”

My body writhed in the darkness, the aftershocks of the dream rolling through me like hot ice, hot and cold at the same time. I broke out into sobs. Was there anything left of my heart to break? My subconscious was fighting back. My dreams were becoming more vivid and new ones had cropped up to torture me. Would I someday wake up and find myself strapped to some bed in a mental ward, people smiling at me, patting my hand, asking me who I thought I was today – Liz or Alisé? Other inmates asking me how Michel
was doing, how the weather was in that part of the world.

I was slowly sinking into an abyss of mental illness. How much longer could I hide it from everyone? How could I face my friends, my family?

When the tears stopped, I rolled to look towards the nightstand. Red digital numbers on my clock displayed 6:45 a.m. In fifteen minutes the alarm would go off and the cyclic torture of a slam on the snooze button would begin. I wiped my tears, gave in and got out of bed, wishing it were Saturday.

I was shoving my books into my pack when I heard a knock.

“Good morning … good morning,” Jen sang. “I have a present for you.”

This was unusual. Usually she was cranky as hell this early
in the morning.

She pulled it out from behind her back. “Flowers! Aren’t they beautiful?”

She held up a dozen red roses with a bunch of baby’s breath. She was so excited she was practically bouncing on her feet. “I’ve been dying to see who they’re from. Hurry up, open the card.”

I took them from her and she followed me in
side. I put them on the table. I had a bad feeling about this.

“
Liz, I miss you and love you. Please call me. Love John.”

“Oh for the love of God!”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s John.” I shoved the card at her
, grabbed the flowers then stomped into the kitchen over to the blue plastic wastebasket.

“Wait … what are you doing? Don’t waste them!” she squealed
as she raced towards me.

I hesitated for a moment, then shoved the flowers at her and began pacing the floor.

“Want me to send him a nasty gram?” she asked.

I ignored her and ranted. “He’s such a flippin’ idiot! I
cannot believe him! Where in the world does he have the right to say ‘I miss you’ when we were never together except when his and my parents forced us into the same room!” My voice rose higher. “And ‘I love you?’ What a total moron!”

“I can dump them, shred them, burn them … stomp on them, run them over with my car.”

I clenched my fists and snarled. “I so did not need this today.”

“What’s going on?”

I let out a groan. “Nothing … nothing …”

“Okay
, I’m not going to ask,” she replied drolly. She looked up at the ceiling, sucked in air and held it. She looked as if she were counting. She let out a burst of air. “Okay, so are you still up for tonight’s ‘composite-napping?’ It’s got to be this night or there’s no telling when we’d get another chance. The Betas are all going to be at some sort of charity event at the hospital. We need to strike when it’s hot.”

I sighed in irritated defeat. “Yeah, I’m in.” I sat down and put my elbows on the table, propping my face up with my chin perched on my fists.

She walked to the door with the vase of flowers. “I’ll walk with you to class since you’re up early. Then we can plan out what you want me to do with these babies.” She left, gingerly holding the flowers out away from her as if they were diseased.

***

Dr. Marcheon was in a good mood, talkative, asking me about my classes. It was all I could do to not drool. It was hard to think with him around. At one point, I wanted to bang my head against the wall. I was getting absolutely nothing done.

He crossed his arms over his chest and sat down on the edge of my desk. I inwardly groaned.

“Be careful tonight.”

I felt the color drain from my face. “Excuse me?”

“I heard it might rain.”

“Rain?” He was cautioning me about rain
?

“Yes, you know the weather here. It’s so unpredictable this close to the ocean. One minute the sun is shining, the next it’s a torrential downpour, cars in ditches …”

“Uh … well, I have no plans to be out and about tonight. Lots of studying to do.”

He gave me an amused smile. “I unfortunately don’t have the option of staying in. The whole department will be at a Children’s Leukemia Gala at the hospital.”

He sighed. “Perhaps it won’t rain.”

I suddenly realized I was staring at his mouth. I moved my gaze up his face to his eyes. He was watching me the same way Michel watched me in my dreams. It held a gentle, sweet quality. They could almost be twins. My heart wrenched and tears welled in my eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked, leaning in towards me. His scent floated around me, seductive and compelling.

I shook my head and held my breath, afraid if I let it out
, it would escape as a sob, then when I realized what I had done, I vehemently nodded. I closed my eyes, digging my fingers painfully into my thighs.

“I’m fine,” I squeaked, squeezing out just enough air.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly. I fought not to answer and I dug my fingers in harder. Everything would be fine if I could just survive the next few minutes without making a fool of myself. I shook my head again. God, why had I done that?

I heard him get up and scrounge around in his credenza. I opened my eyes to see him holding a tissue box and
I took one, wadding it up. He sat back down on the edge of my desk and waited. If he only would just go back to his own desk, I wouldn’t have to breathe him in, be so close.

“If you ever need to talk, I’m a good listener.” He reached out a hand, and then awkwardly dropped it to his lap. He sighed and his brow creased. “Well, I suppose I should get back to work.”

The tension drained out of me as he went back to his desk. I wanted to bang my head on mine.

***

We crouched next to a brick retaining wall behind the Beta house, dressed in black, our faces covered with ski masks picked up from the Salvation Army. We’d huddled there for thirty minutes, watching the house, waiting for the charity to be in full swing. We’d counted how many bros had filed out based on a stolen membership list. We’d heard the event was mandatory for all Betas, but who knew how mandatory it was. One, by one, the lights turned out.

I waited another thirty minutes then led us forward. Dylan moved to the bushes at the side of the house where he had a perfect view of the parking lot. He was
the lookout. If he saw anything, he was going to play a loud and obnoxious inebriate.

Parker entered the code to the house he’d squeezed out of a drunken pledge earlier in the afternoon. I slid in, checking first to make sure the way was clear. We’d decided to forgo searching the lower level of the house for the composites since they would be expecting a raid. We laid odds they would have locked them up in one of the upper rooms. We were going to start with the officer quarters. Parker had squeezed the layout of the house from the same pledge. Me, I carried an old credit card. A bit of plastic stuck in a door worked wonders. Of course, Parker’s lock pick came along for the ride just in case the plastic didn’t do the trick. Parker had skills. I didn’t ask where he’d got them.

I went up the stairs to the second floor, listening. Then I motioned for the others to come up. It was so quiet, almost too quiet. I slunk down the hall that smelled like boys – sweat, cologne, and other things not so pleasant. The hallway was lined with doors, all closed and the lights were off. Hmmm, it was a little odd for guys. Too neat and tidy.

At the end of the hallway, “President” had been painted in black gothic lettering on a door. Across the hall, and next it, were the other officer’s doors. What would happen if there were a fire in this end of the house? All of them could go down in flames together and then what would their minions do? Who would operate the stick in their butts?
Didn’t they understand you all don’t ride in the same bus?

Not that I was thinking about starting a fire, nor would I ever want that to happen, God forbid, but one in a trashcan had all sorts of interesting possibilities. I must have moved up a level in my devious thoughts.

I reached out to open the door and hesitated. Maybe I was just being overly cautious or maybe I’d heard something. I held up a tight fist and everybody froze. I shook my head and backed down towards them.

Dylan hissed at us, “What’s wrong?” when we snuck back out of the house, keeping to the shadows.

“It was a trap. Definitely a trap.”

Parker looked at me confused. “How the hell do you know that?”