And she didn’t.
Until she thought she could get under my roof unnoticed, with her wig and attitude that doesn’t fit with the scene she walked into.
The initiation isn’t for little girls like her.
And yet, she ran for it, and she fought, too.
It was useless, and I put an end to it before it properly started, but then she asked me to fuck her.
I don’t want to die a virgin, is what she said.
I can almost hear the tremor in her soft voice and see the quiver in her velvety pink lips when she said that. I can smell the desperation behind the words. Whether it was to stay alive or be fucked, I had no clue.
My cock chose to believe the second.
I meant it when I said I don’t fuck virgins. They don’t tempt me, and I don’t have a broken hymen kink.
But at that moment? I was so close to tearing into her virgin cunt, just to see the dull girl with rigid morals and judgmental stare cry.
I got my chance when she made the mistake of coming to my house and wandering into my forest. Right after she gave me a glance at her deepest, darkest fantasies.
Right after she ran away from the initiation, I hacked into her phone, then saw the site she visited and the kink she signed up for.
I also saw her pictures.
The screenshots upon screenshots from Landon King’s Instagram account and any other pictures of him posted by others.
She had them in a secret folder called ‘My Prince.’
And surprise, surprise, her prince was enrolled in that club she signed up for. He’s been in it for years. I know because I’m in it, too, if not for anything else, than to keep an eye on him.
Cecily put in all the right answers to get her so called prince to ravage her in an unknown place.
The proud, stern girl actually has a kink.
And not just any kink.
It’s the kink of all kinks.
One that good girls like her shouldn’t go anywhere near, let alone sign up for.
As soon as she hit Submit, I scrolled to my notifications and hit Accept.
She wasn’t offering herself for me, but I took her anyway.
If Landon didn’t want me to mess around with her, he should’ve put her on a leash.
I glance behind me to find that I lost Nikolai at my high speed. Either that or the motherfucker actually got himself killed.
A familiar sight at the building in front of me makes me slow to a halt beneath a large tree that camouflages me and my bike.
It’s an animal shelter. The one my sister volunteers at because she’s an advocate of everything pretty and small.
But it’s not my sister I’m looking at.
It’s the annoying existence.
Cecily Knight.
She sits on a bench outside. The rare hint of England’s sun turns her eyes a liquid blue-green as she flips through a book.
Her silver hair that’s nearly white like a witch’s shines under the light. She rubs the side of her nose and her bottom lip pushes forward in a pout.
I stroke the clutch as images of her in more compromising positions flare in my mind.
Writhing, sobbing, wiggling, crying, and screaming.
Especially screaming.
She does that so well, which was a surprise. One wouldn’t attribute that trait to her, considering her rigid, businesslike persona.
But then again, I’ve never thought someone like Cecily would be into primal play either.
The quiet people hide the best, after all.
If it had been anyone else, I would’ve left them alone, but she made the mistake of being where she wasn’t supposed to be.
Landon might have thought he could use her against me, but it’ll be the exact opposite.
That dull, maybe not so dull, existence has gotten herself the worst type of attention.
Mine.
7
CECILY
“You need to come home.”
“Papa!” I slide my attention from my book to the phone and I’m greeted by the face of my custom-made role model.
He grins, showing deep dimples in his cheeks.
Xander Knight is my father, my first best friend—Ava came later—and the greatest dad on earth.
He has a classically handsome face with his golden blond hair, sky blue eyes, and a sharp jawline.
Mum said he used to be the most popular boy at school and attracted everyone’s attention like a magnet not only due to his looks but also thanks to his charm.
It’s safe to say, I didn’t inherit any of those easygoing traits, and it’s not due to a lack of trying on his part.
“I just miss my only daughter too much, so either you come back to London and study at a local uni—which would make everyone happy, by the way—or I find a house near you so your mother and I can see you all the time.”
“No to both.” I suppress a smile because I’m well aware he’s capable of doing that and this is the third time he’s suggested that option.
When we went on a school trip at thirteen, Papa kind of convinced all the other fathers to rent out a holiday house near our camp.
Papa and Ava’s father, Uncle Cole, ended up buying the thing because they’re extra like that, and then they pretended to stumble upon the place we were staying at by chance.
It was the worst lie in centuries. Ava and I kind of came to the realization that we have overprotective dads and we’d have to live with that fact instead of fighting it.
No matter how old we get, we’ll always be their little girls who they wish would remain young forever.
“I mean it,” Papa says from the other end of the phone, a line appearing between his brows. “I can’t sleep at night thinking something has happened to you.”
“You’re just being paranoid. I’m healthy and well.” I flash him my best smile and hope to hell he doesn’t see the doubt and concern hiding behind it.
I am healthy, but only physically, and I certainly haven’t been well. Not since that night a month ago.
Something inside me has shriveled and vanished since then, and I couldn’t find it again, even if I tried.
It was wrong.
Everything was.
From my twisted tendencies to allowing myself to be in that position, even if it was for Lan.
I’ve never felt as ashamed or completely disappointed in myself as I did at that moment when I realized the one who’d chased me in the dark and brought me the most powerful release I’ve ever experienced was none other than Jeremy Volkov.
The resident devil of Brighton Island and the reigning Lucifer of TKU.
I couldn’t look in the mirror for days after the incident, went into my head more times than I could count so that even my friends started to individually ask me if something was wrong.
For a moment, I truly considered going home and finding comfort with my parents, Uncle Kirian, and my grandfathers, but how is that any different from running?
Besides, if I’d done that, I would’ve appeared under the weather and worried them needlessly.
I’m glad I didn’t give in to that impulse and stayed put. If Papa had sensed any hint of distress, he would’ve locked me up in the house and demanded to slay my demons for me.