Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,19

back and meeting Vic's bemused gaze. “And you guys owe me a hundred bucks.”

Callum’s laughter follows me all the way down the block.

About an hour later, I head back and find Aaron waiting for me on the front porch. He doesn't look very happy to see me, covered in ink and bullshit. I'm not sure I've ever hated anyone quite the same way I hate him. And trust me: I hate a lot of people. I hate more people than I like, that's for damn sure.

“Why are you wasting your time with us?” Aaron asks, sounding bored and tired. He smokes a cigarette with two fingers dipped entirely in ink. There are very few places on his body that are left bare, not even his cock. Trust me: I've seen it all. “You should've taken off when you had the chance, gone to live with that grandmother of yours.”

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” I challenge, clenching my hands into fists at my sides as he turns his green-gold gaze my direction. Liar. Cheater. Hypocrite. He's worse than all the others. At least they accept the fact that their feathers are black, that their realm is hell, that they spew fire and shit flames.

Aaron still believes he craps rainbows and wears white wings.

“Like that?” he asks, rising up from the plastic chair on the porch. “Hell no. I've wanted you since we were kids.” He takes a drag on his cigarette and offers me the pack with his other hand. I don't take it. I don't want to get closer to him than I have to.

“You're a monster,” I tell him, and he shrugs his big shoulders, tucking the pack into the rear pocket of his dirty denim jeans. They cup his ass too tight, emphasize the long beautiful lines of his legs.

“Maybe. But you're an idiot. You had a chance to escape this place, and instead, you chose to dig in deep, just for a little taste of vengeance. It won't be as sweet as you think, cupcake. In fact …” Aaron saunters over to me and pauses, looking down at me with a dark frown, smelling like tobacco and secrets. “You'll find it leaves the taste of ash in your mouth; it's almost obscene.” He cups my jaw, and runs his thumb along my lower lip. “And you won't like it when Victor takes you to bed. He's a rough, angry sort of lover.” I turn my face away with a scowl. “I'm trying to convince him to give you to me, but he's determined to have you.”

“I'd rather fuck him than you,” I say, still staring at the dirt because it's a million times better than looking at Aaron's face. When I turn back, I shoulder him out of the way and head inside.

“You were almost late,” Vic says, crossing his huge arms over his chest. He doesn't smile. “You wouldn't have liked to see what would've happened if you were late.”

“Let's just get this damn thing over with, shall we?” I quip, and Vic scoffs.

“Suit yourself,” he says, and he heads outside. He's got a motorcycle waiting, some badass piece of machinery that's way outside the pay grade of someone who lives in a busted-ass house on the wrong side of town. “You'll ride bitch seat,” he tells me, gesturing to the rear seat as Hael squeezes his big body into the driver's side door of his classic car, that cherry red beauty that makes me wet just looking at it.

“Fine.”

Vic doesn't have helmets, but I'm beyond caring about little things like my personal safety at this moment. Instead, I hop on and curve my body against the strong, muscular expanse of his back. I'll admit, my head spins a little at his smell, this dark, musky sort of scent that sets all my senses on fire.

But I don’t have to let him know that, now do I?

The “dress shop” we head to isn't in a good part of town; it's not even in a bad part of town. In fact, it's in the worst part of town.

My body is molded to Vic's big, strong back, the sun beating down on me, making me sweat.

I tell myself that the heat in my core has nothing to do with his rock-hard body locked between my thighs, the fresh scent of male sweat and leather teasing my nose. Fuck. Fuck, this is torture.

“What the hell is this?” I snap when the motorcycle comes to a skidding stop on the