Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #3)(21)

“Except, how many girls have you been with?” I ask, but really, I don’t want to know. Victor very slowly brings his attention back to me.

“I’m going to kill David,” he repeats, rather than answer me. “Then we can fuck in his blood.”

“Victor,” I warn, but the idea isn’t totally repugnant to me. My hands weave together behind his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. His tongue slides into my mouth, cracking the very small shields I still had up, opening me to him completely. Victor rocks his body against mine again, forcing my legs apart. The shimmery black fabric of the dress is like a shield between us, but that doesn’t stop him from running a hand up and underneath, fingers digging into my thigh. It hurts, but it also feels good too, the way he’s holding me like he owns me.

“I told you, Bernie: I need a way to let my demons out and you need a way to confront them. That’s what you’re going to get, the fucking demon inside of me.” Victor puts his lips against my ear and purrs this into me, making me thrash beneath him. I want more. All of him. Now.

Based on the feral expression taking over his face, I don’t think that’ll be a hard thing to convince him to do …





Victor Channing





Bernadette’s vows reverberate through my body, causing a seismic shift as I adjust my body against hers. Can she feel it, I wonder, the violence thrumming inside of me? I don’t want to share her with the rest of Havoc. Yet, I’m starting to feel like an animal backed into a corner. I get to make a choice: kill the other males after my female or … deal with them in a different way.

A growl escapes me as I drop my mouth to her neck, sucking on her skin and biting her just hard enough to make her cry out. It isn’t enough, so I bite harder, until she’s clawing at my bare back with her nails. She smells so sweet and soft to me, even though I know it’s an illusion.

My Bernadette Savannah Blackbird is one, tough bitch.

“You’re hurting me,” she whimpers, but she thrusts her pelvis against me, tilting her face to the side to give me better access. “Keep going.”

A sharp spike of lust shivers through me, and I find myself clawing at her dress, just to get it the fuck out of my way. Why did I want her to wear it again? Oh, that’s right, because she looks like a dark angel or a beautiful demon when she’s wearing it, not sure which exactly.

That day, the day after we got arrested by the Violent Gang Task Force, I got to see her in it for the first time.

Mmm.

If that isn’t a memory I’ll cherish until I meet an early grave, I don’t know what is.

“Tell him he can’t see it until the wedding,” Bernadette said, her voice groggy with sleep, her tone laced with irritation. “Not until I walk out the front doors of that goddamn creepy ass house.”

She couldn’t possibly know how scared I was though. Nah, not scared. Terrified. Shaken. Horror-struck. Hysterical.

If we didn’t have damn good lawyers on retainer, and a totally trumped-up charge made up by an angry daddy then … Don’t think that way, I tell myself, sitting up and pushing Bernadette’s dress up so I can see all of her. She hates it, being vulnerable and exposed beneath my dark stare, but I don’t give a shit. I need this; I need her.

Oscar keeps passing these little quips about how she needs a wax or some garbage. Really, I think it’s because he’s jealous. Because he dreams of her sweet, little cunt when he jacks himself off at night. As if he thinks I don’t notice the way his eyes follow her.

My jaw clenches as I bend down, pressing my lips to the porcelain smoothness of her inner thigh. She’s so pale, she may as well be made of moonlight. My tongue slides along her white flesh, tasting the pulsing of her femoral artery.

“Victor,” she pleads, but I’m taking my time here. This is my night. The other guys can think whatever the fuck they want: it’s also my honeymoon. After this … I cannot for the life of me think of what happens after this.

I bite down and Bernadette thrusts her hips up toward the ceiling. To keep her still, I hold her pelvis in tight hands, one on either side, wrestling her writhing body where I want it. Hael bought us a ton of sex toys as a wedding present, but I’m not using fucking any of them.

It’s just my body and Bernadette’s. That’s all I want tonight. That’s all the demon in me craves. My flesh in her flesh, owning her, marking her. Protecting her. Because, ultimately, that’s the only thing I want to do.

That’s why I had to see her in that dress as soon as possible, to make sure she was still here, that she was relatively unmarked, that she was mine.

So, sure, I shoved the door in and cracked the drywall with the knob, but I went in there, looked at her, and I knew.

She really is the queen to my king.

“Victor!” she’d ground out, not at all like the pretty, near-submissive thing she is now. “The fuck is wrong with you?” I was shaking, and I didn’t want her to know. I lit a cigarette. I took a drag, looked her up and down. Did she know how damn relieved I was? Could she feel it?

“Fuck me.” That was all I said. Maybe I managed to sound calm, but probably not?

Bernadette’s body swathed in glittering black, just like it is now. Her emerald green eyes gazing back at me, just like they are now. I lift my head up to look at her, and then I dip my face down and taste her sweetness. I’m fucking ravenous. My hands clamp down on her pelvis even harder, keeping her still as my tongue dives deep and I take exactly what I want without bothering to ask for it.