The Rush (The Siren Series) - By Rachel Higginson Page 0,31
space between us. I sucked in a sharp breath, but he was still everywhere, his scent, his cologne, his essence still clung to every bit of air around me, choking the life out of me.
“It was, um, the same.” I met his emblazoned gaze and tilted my chin for an added illusion of confidence.
“Despite what your mother has told you, I could get you into a different school if you wanted me to. I know you’re unhappy where you’re at. Just say the word, and you can join Exie and Sloane wherever they’re at. Enough money will always get you what you want.” He finally released my arms to walk into the open kitchen and poured himself a drink from my mother’s intense alcohol collection.
“Not necessary,” I said quickly, too quickly. He glanced back at me over his shoulder and his dark eyes studied me for way too long. “It’s just that I don’t want to go against my mom or anything. She wants me at Central, so at Central I will stay.”
Nix turned around and leaned back against the granite countertop, arms crossed against his chest, his tumbler of Scotch resting in his hand. He was classically handsome with a tall, lean, muscular frame and broad shoulders. His dark hair was perfectly tussled and cut exactly business-man short. His even darker eyes were framed with long lashes and were as intense as they were sultry. He was the perfect specimen of man, enticing, alluring, sexy as hell and absolutely terrifying. Women were drawn to him without reserve or caution, men feared him, my mother worshipped him and I had to hold back my gag reflex. He was vividly evil, the worst kind of human being.
And he controlled my life. He controlled everything about me…. every little thing past, present and future.
“I like that, Ivy,” he paused to take me in again, his gaze raking over my figure from head to toe. I stilled the shudder that threatened to rip through me, repressing it into the deepest, darkest part of my soul, the part he couldn’t touch. “I like your obedience.” His voice was low and seductive and I didn’t even want to think about what he could be referring to. I couldn’t think about it. The fear of what was left unsaid haunted my nightmares and every waking thought that spun around tumultuously in my head.
“Where’s my mom?” I asked in a breathy, child-like voice. I wanted to stand up to him so desperately; I wanted to shout at him to stay away from me, not to touch me or even look at me. But I couldn’t. He was all-consuming and demanded respect and I had been conditioned to react to his every breath since the moment I was born.
“She went to see Honor,” Nix explained turning his gaze to the floor to ceiling windows across the room that led out to our substantial balcony. A look of pure, unadulterated hate flittered across his face, and his eyes turned to pools of malicious energy. Waves of aggression rippled through the room as he let his emotions fill up the apartment.
Finally, even amidst his overpoweringly negative energy, I found some solace in my situation. I was a prisoner, trapped and held without permission. But my sister, my little sister had an actual chance at life. Nix hated that, hated her. But without much of a choice, him and my mother tolerated Honor’s dictator of a father, with the hope that one day Honor would come into full custody of my mother.
My mother, the renowned and somewhat notorious Ava Pierce, had followed her routine with Honor’s father to the last ounce of successful practice she did with every one of her conquests. She found rich men on their death beds, exploited their loneliness and her exceptional good looks and then wiggled into the last will and testament moments before their final dying breath. It was her way of securing our wealth and my future.
Securing children took an entirely more complicated approach however, and there was a ton of work that went into the process. She couldn’t just pick anybody. The sperm donors had to pass an entire gamut of criteria and qualifications in order to be considered a viable candidate and then they had to be near enough to death so that they weren’t an issue for much longer, but healthy enough to father a child. It was a disgusting mess of deceit and sin. And somehow my mother pulled it