Page 20 of Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 3)
Victor Channing is a dark, masculine god. I don’t think there’s a straight woman on this earth who wouldn’t look at him and feel the need to worship at least some aspect of his body. His personality, on the other hand, might leave something to be desired.
“Want to tell me about David?” he asks, shirtless and gorgeous and looking over his shoulder at me with a cruel, possessive twinkle in his obsidian gaze.
“David,” I start, sitting on the edge of a king-sized bed in one of the five motherfucking guest bedrooms in this monstrous house. We’ve left the Vincents their room to spend the night in. I mean, they’re tied up, but at least they’re in their own bed, right? “I met him at a Prescott party, and we hooked up one time.”
Victor turns fully around to look at me, tossing his shirt on the floor next to his suitcase. We sent Callum and Hael to grab our things from the hotel; we’re officially moved into the Vincents’ mansion now. At first, the thought made me nervous. What happens if we get caught here? But then I remembered that there’s a little girl named Alyssa in the other room who was about to be sold to perverts. We have too much dirt on the Vincents for them to do anything at all.
“Did you use a condom?” Victor asks, and I swear to fuck, I almost blow a gasket. The look I give him is pure fire, but he doesn’t back down. He just stands there, shirtless and inked-up and glorious and stares at me as I comb the beach tangles from my wet hair.
“Yes, asshole. I used a condom. Believe it or not, I never made a habit out of not using condoms until I became a Havoc Girl.” My stomach clenches at my own idiocy as of late. Aaron, of course, was a perfect gentleman and made the condom thing work. But Oscar and Victor and … even Hael.
“You don’t forget unless you really like a girl.” Hael said that to me once, in the Hellhole, that goth shop in downtown Springfield. And he did just that, on the hood of his Camaro, the car he doesn’t let anyone touch unless they’re a part of Havoc.
Hmm.
My face flushes and I look down at my lap. I’ve been taking those stupid birth control pills that Oscar mysteriously procured—or more likely had Callum steal for him—so at least there’s that.
My hand stills on the brush as Victor comes over to stand in front of me, grasping my chin in his fingers and lifting my face up to look at him. The connection between us pulses and throbs like a live thing, making my chest hurt. Does he know how much he means to me? Even if he says his love is selfish, even if he is a jealous prick.
I lick my lips as he leans down and breathes me in.
“You smell so damn good,” he murmurs, and I have to close my eyes to hold back the rush of emotion in my chest. “I could eat you up, Bernadette, consume every last bite.” Victor licks the side of my face and the brush falls from my hand, clattering across the floor.
Fuck, shit, damn it.
“Stop it,” I admonish, but there’s no heat to my words.
“No.” He grips my chin even harder, and I open my eyes to meet his beautiful ebon ones. “These pieces of shit wasted nearly half a day of my time; I’m going to make up for that now.”
I almost open my mouth to protest, but then … why bother? Aaron has the girls under control. Between Cal, Oscar, and Hael, they can watch the Vincents.
“It was a nice wedding present,” I say instead, and he smiles. Even with a bit of true mirth coloring his eyes, it’s really more of a smirk. “I mean, between the Vincents and the Thing …” I trail off as Victor chuckles.
“Violence and sex, I can offer you either of those things in droves,” he tells me, releasing my chin and then stepping back to flick the light. We’re plunged into darkness, but it doesn’t really matter because we live there in our souls anyway. That’s me and Vic, just two crows in a murder of black feathers and sharp beaks. “And love. Those things are infinite.”
“You’re an ass,” I sputter, because it’s all I’ve got. My cheeks are flushed and my heart pounds. “But I love you anyway.”
“Why?” Vic asks, moving through the shadows to grab something. It’s my dress, my beautiful, black wedding gown, that he takes off the hanger and brings over to me. He offers it up, but it takes me a second to grab it because I’m struggling for the right words.
“Why?” I echo. “I could ask you the same thing, you know.” I take the dress from him. It shimmers, even with just a hint of moonlight from outside. Our windows are open, and I can hear the sea saying hello and goodbye to the beach in a gentle, soothing murmur. Constant, unending, boundless.
