From Darkness (Hearts & Arrows Book 3)(41)

She hadn’t even said thank you.

Jane had made her way through a good portion of the football team, and when she’d asked him to homecoming, he couldn’t say no. She’d been known for being ruthless, and he’d worked so hard to fit in, to play along. He’d always known he was different, and Jane had held the power to ruin everything he’d built, explode his cover into dust with her rumors and gossip.

Her sole purpose in life had seemed to be to get him to sleep with her, a task that stressed an overwhelmed him. Getting hard had never been easy, and Jane was vicious; she’d ruin him if she found out. A few times when they’d been making out, he’d gotten a little turned on, which gave him hope. His best-case scenario was one where he could get it up and get it over with so he could break up with her and get back to some semblance of normality.

He’d just wanted to be left alone.

That night, that first night, they had parked in the woods at the trails where the kids partied and went mudding. It was empty that night of other cars, and Jane was on a mission, her hands diving into his pants. He was limp and soft despite her breasts in his face and tongue down his throat as she straddled him with the wheel of his truck at her back.

His lack of enthusiasm didn’t stop Jane, not at first. He’d been staring at her tits, hoping for a miracle, but nothing happened, and after a few minutes, she pulled back.

“God, what the fuck, Corey?” She climbed off of him. “You should have just told me you were a fag so we could have avoided all this.”

He ran a hand over his tired face. “Fuck you, Jane.”

“Apparently, you can’t.” She wiped off her lips, disgusted, and laughed. “I can’t fucking wait to tell everybody that Corey Rhodes can’t get it up. No wonder you’ve been pussing out about this. Have you always had your little problem? Maybe you should see someone about that.”

He clenched his jaw. “Shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, asshole.” Her voice was hard and cold as stone, all humor gone. “Hand me my shirt.”

He looked her over for a moment, rage rolling under the surface of his skin like boiling oil. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” She rolled her eyes and spoke to him like a child. “Just be the pussy you are and hand me my shirt.”

He grabbed her wrist. “Shut the fuck up, Jane.”

“Let go of me,” she demanded.

His fist tightened. “No.” His dick stirred in his pants, and he smiled when she tried to pull away.

“You’re hurting me.” A spark of fear lit behind her eyes.

“I don’t care.”

She tried to pull away again. “Take me home, asshole.”

“We’re doing this, Jane. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

His hand trailed down her chest, and he yanked her bra down, exposing her breasts. She jumped.

“Stop it, Corey.” Her voice wavered.

“You don’t want me to stop. Look at what you did.” He took her other hand and laid it on his bulge.

“You sick fuck,” she whispered. “I’m not fucking kidding. Let me go.”

“No,” he growled.

She slapped him hard, but he grabbed her forearms, threw her down on the bench seat, and gave her what she’d wanted all along. She didn’t stop fighting, not even when he rid her of her panties, not when he slammed into her, not when he wrapped his hands around her neck. He barely felt her scrabbling against him, not registering when her arm slipped away and she lay still, and he came so hard, he thought his heart would stop.

When he came around, he looked down at Jane and unclenched his fingers, the skin underneath already turning from red to some strange deeper shade of purple. Her mouth hung open, her hair hanging across her face. He moved it away, tenderly tucking it behind her ear.

Her necklace caught in a strand of hair, and he smiled as he unclasped the chain and laid it in his palm. What was once supposed to be a symbol of their relationship became a symbol of something new. The rush he got as he touched it was almost more than he could stand, and for a long moment, he sat in the cab of his truck with his head against the back window and his eyes closed, cock in his hand and heart on fire.

He glanced down at Jane again, knowing he should feel guilt and remorse but he didn’t. He felt free, free from Jane, free from chains he hadn’t known bound him. He slid Jane over, turned the ignition, and drove deeper into the woods, more calm and satisfied than he’d ever been in his entire life.



Rhodes rubbed the necklace a last time before laying it back in its drawer. He picked up Hannah’s earrings and laid them in his hand, turning his head as he inspected them.

From the first time he’d seen her, he’d fantasized about her, but he couldn’t make a move. It had been dangerous, too dangerous, but he’d found he couldn’t turn off the part of himself that wanted her. It’d whispered in his ear the things he could do to her, replaying Jane over and over again on a loop, and every time he had seen her walking home from school in that goddamn crimson cheerleading uniform, the urge had grown.

He always tried to make sure he was outside when she passed by in the evenings that she had cheerleading practice, and on the night he’d finally gotten his chance, it had been by sheer luck.



Rhodes had been in his driveway, dragging his trash cans to the alley when he saw her hurrying through the dark street in the chilly autumn night. He froze, not expecting to see her so late. The disappointment at missing her earlier erased the second he spotted her.