Page 63 of Hell House
“Skye.” She shakes her head shooting me down again, and I feel the sharp stab of defeat.
“Give her some space, Lukas.” Salem says. I nod, stuffing my hands into my leather jacket as I watch Skye walk away from me without even a glance in my direction. I’m left alone, hearing the sound of murmurs start up around me.
Did she not get it? That I wasn’t this person? I‘d had sex a countless number of times, but it was never like that. I wasn’t gentle, but yet I found myself being so for her. Maybe that was the problem. If I’d wrapped my hands around her pretty little neck and pounded her pussy like I was punishing it, maybe she wouldn’t have run away so easy. I shake my head, remembering how she felt with me though. Being with Skye was life altering in a way that made my soul feel like it’d been set on fire. She’d held onto me. Not my Lust or all the trapping that came with that. Me. I’d damn well remind her of it too.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Salem
“Ugh. I hate all of these.” I say flopping down on my bed and laying flat on my stomach as I scroll through the store’s online boutique site. I kick my legs up behind me, feeling too tired to change out of my school uniform. Headmaster Hayden reminded me that my presence is required at the alumni ball that takes place this Saturday. Since there’s no malls on this tiny island, I’ll have to have it shipped as soon as it can get here, but I haven’t found anything that I wouldn’t be caught dead in. That is until I switch over to this site that Javelynn recommended to me.
Pierce had blown up my phone the rest of the day, sending me flirty eggplant emojis with peaches and winkie faces. As much as I found myself liking some of the time we spent together, I couldn’t ignore that niggling feeling after seeing him going to the Headmaster’s office. He could fuck right off with whatever lies he fed me this morning.
The site Javelynn recommended was a pure gold mine. I didn’t even know where to start. For as much money as my family has, we’d never been one for formal balls or charity fundraisers. Even my own prom experience was cancelled due to a global pandemic, so I had never actually had a need to buy a fancy dress. I feel a foreign flutter of excitement stretch across my abdomen as I zero in on the most perfect dress I’ve ever seen. It has a corseted bodice, with black lace and interwoven beading all down the front. The bottom fans out in black glitter tulle that fades into an ombre of silver then white at the bottom. It was perfect. I check the price and size before adding to cart. Thankfully the website had suggestions for accessories and shoes which made it easy to complete the look. I check out, smiling to myself. Everything else might have been going to shit, but at least I had this. Funny how things change, because when I first heard I would be required to attend, everything inside of me screamed hell no. But now?
Now, I was feeling excited about dressing up in something that devastatingly gorgeous. When the actual heck did, I become this person? I still wasn’t happy about attending and especially the demand to be there. If there’s one thing that irked me the most was having to obey crotchety old men with a god complex.
I bite my bottom lip then close out my tabs when I hear a knock outside my door. A tentative rap, tap, smack.
“Who is it?” I call out, feeling too tired to go to the door.
“Walker.” His deep voice travels through the door and straight into my stomach.
I feel instantly sweaty with anticipation before I call for him to come in. I stifle the stirring of butterflies that churn inside my gut. He’s changed out of his school issued uniform, a knit cap sitting snuggly across his head covering most of his scar. His hair curls out at the bottom of his hat and I suddenly feel the urge to run my fingers over the edges that are poking out. I bite my lip seeing him with his guitar slung across his back and remember the way his fingers felt against mine as he held me, showing me how to pluck the strings, and how he looked at me as we sang together, and especially the way he comforted me after my nightmare. Yep, I had a huge crush on this man who was sucking all the air out of the room with his very presence. I feel a smile edging up, battling away my grumpy mood.
“What’s up?”
“We got it, babe.”
“The Battle of the Bands?”
He nods and I shriek, jumping off the bed and flinging myself around him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Oh my god, oh my god! That’s amazing, congratulations!”
“Don’t act like you didn’t have anything to do with it, we won because of you. The judges deliberated a day longer because of the band at the end, but they were swayed by, and I quote, ‘the raw chemistry and effortless ethereal harmony made by the two singers'.”
“They really said that?”
“Yeah, wildcat. Can you blame them? That was fuckin’ magical.” His whiskey-colored eyes shine down at me perusing my body lazily with heated intent. I feel the trace of his gaze on my skin, making me realize that I have my ass on full display with my school skirt pushed up and showing the edges of my undies.
“Did you bring your guitar up here to teach me some chords?” I sit up, crossing my legs. Walker tracks the movement with a lick of his lips. My eyes catch on a flash of metal. Was that… was his tonguepierced?
“A deal’s a deal, but I didn’t realize how small it would be up here.”
“What you never explored the house?”
“Not all of us are as curious as you, angel.”
“That’s a new one.”
“What is?”
“Angel.”
He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear as he settles on the bed next to me moving the guitar from behind his back up and over to the front of his chest. “That’s because you have a voice like one.” He makes the breath in my chest catch, letting loose a string of butterflies deep in my core. He lifts the strap off of his neck and hands me the guitar, letting me get used to its weight as I slide my fingers around it’s neck and flick my fingers down the strings. He adjusts the strap, hooking it over my head, moving my hair out of the way. I don’t miss the way his calloused fingers linger on my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.
He angles himself so that I’m settled in front of him, his legs spread wide allowing me into the opening. He wraps his hands around me from behind and pushes my fingers into the strings. The sensation is familiar, like the day we first met, but this time I’m more aware of the wall of muscle that sits behind me.
