Kings of Quarantine (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep #1) - Caroline Peckham ,Susanne Valenti Page 0,8

my eyes.

The vaulted roof of the church I’d claimed for my own personal quarters opened out above me, the thick beams of the rafters tapering up towards the heavens. They said money couldn’t buy you everything, but I sure as shit in a diaper hadn’t found much it couldn’t. I’d taken one look at the dorm they’d allocated me when I arrived here and told them fuck no. I wasn’t sharing a room with anyone. I wasn’t sharing walls with anyone either.

And when my family had threatened to remove me – and their contributions – from the school, Headmaster Brown had come up with the solution. This church had fallen into disrepair and was in serious need of a makeover. With a donation or three from my parents, this place had been ready within the week.

And really, an old church was the perfect place for a Saint to live, although the people who worshiped at my altar didn’t tend to be the pious types. But I gladly took service from girls on their knees five times a week all the same. Though not here. Never here.

The Temple was my safe haven. No one crossed this threshold aside from me and the other Night Keepers. And my personal maid, Rebecca, but she came and went like a ghost whenever I wasn’t here so I liked to pretend the place just kept itself spotless and ignore her existence.

I sat up, running a hand through my tightly curling hair as I looked out of the enormous stained glass window on the far side of the church which was in the shape of a crucifix. My bedroom was on the balcony level of the old church and wooden railings sat beyond the foot of my bed where I could look down at the level below.

The classical music washed over me and I took another deep breath. And another. My morning ritual had been this way for as long as I could remember.

I waited for six am then I worked on rebuilding the carefully constructed walls I kept up around my heart and soul at all times.

As the song came to an end, I slipped out of bed, pulling on a pair of grey sweatpants as I moved toward the edge of the balcony.

Blake and Kyan had beds here too. Their rooms were downstairs, to the back of the building and they slept here unless they found a girl to fuck. Then they went somewhere else, anywhere else, I didn’t care where so long as my sanctuary stayed untarnished.

I leaned my forearms on the wooden bannister and looked down into the open living area below. The huge room was decorated in grey tones which screamed man cave. There wasn’t so much as a scatter cushion or scented candle in sight, and that was the way I liked it.

Kyan was sprawled out on the five seater couch like a fucking animal. His dark brown hair fell loose around his face and he’d pulled his shirt off to reveal the myriad of tattoos covering his skin. His black jeans were unbuckled and his hand was stuffed inside them, firmly cupping his junk as he slept.

I’d told him more times than I could count not to fall asleep on the fucking couch, but did he give a shit? Not one. Not even a fucking rabbit dropping of a shit. If I didn’t know he’d welcome a brawl, I’d kick his ass for it, but the dude lived to fight so I’d only be rewarding his behaviour by giving him a beat down.

I bit my tongue and looked down at the dark skin of my chest where the black ink of one of my two tattoos curved over my pecs in swirling script. The days are long, but the nights are dark. And didn’t I fucking know it.

My other tattoo lay on the back of my neck, a tribal arrow with feathers hanging from it to mark me out as a Night Keeper. Blake and Kyan had their own marks too, each of our arrows slightly different but similar enough to be clearly linked. And with them on show on the backs of our necks at all times, it was clear to everyone else exactly who and what we were. Brothers bound in ink and sworn to each other in blood. We may not have been related, but they were the only two people in this world who I actually gave a damn about and so help anyone who