Everywhen: (Savage Princess book 1) Page 4

  “I’m going inside to crash. Move.”

  The light of the fire is behind him, so he’s covered in shadow while I’m bathed in light. I feel his gaze on my face. He’s quiet like he’s studying me. I’m about to kick him in the nuts when he says, “You have contacts in?”

  I roll my eyes. I’ve been asked this before. “No, dude. I have perfect vision.”

  “To change the color of your eyes,” he says, sounding aggravated.

  “I said no.” This dude is weirding me the fuck out. “You need to back up.”

  He leans in closer, bringing his hand to my face and gripping my chin. He’s big, strong, and dominant. He is the opposite of Trent and definitely my type. The stranger’s warm breath fans across my face. If he would have tried talking to me like a normal person, and not tried to intimidate me like he’s doing now, I might have given him a chance.

  I lift my arms between us and press my hands to his chest. I push against him, but he’s too close for me to get enough leverage. “I said you need to back up.”

  His fingers release their tight hold of my chin. “You think being Anna will save you from your shit life?”

  That sobers me up. “What the fuck?” Did I say something out loud tonight about the interview? “Who are you?” I attempt to push against him again, but it’s more like I’m feeling him up. I let my arms drop back down to my sides.

  He presses even closer, his mouth now at my ear. “The life of a Westling isn’t as glamorous as you think. You’ll be watched like a hawk by everyone. Anything and everything you do will be analyzed, dissected, and discussed by the media. You’ll crack under pressure, probably by slitting your dainty wrists.” He steps back, giving me breathing room and space to move.

  I don’t know how this dude found out what went down at the interview, and I can’t see his face to know who he is. “You have the wrong person.”

  “Let me see the back of your neck.”

  “No. Go away, creep.” I step around him, shoving him as I do.

  A second later I’m spun around, my front pinned against the hard metal door. His whole body covers mine, making me ten times hotter than I was and not in a good way. I wince as his fingers probe and pull at the sensitive hair on the back of my neck.

  As fast as he pinned me, I’m released. Breathing heavy, I slowly turn around. “Who are you?” I feel his eyes all over me, but I can’t see them with that freaking hoodie. I want to rip it off.

  “Tell me how you found out about the mark and I’ll give you twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  “You’ll give me twenty-five thousand dollars? You have twenty-five thousand dollars?” I think I’m more shocked about that than the fact he found out about the interview. He can’t be much older than me and nobody my age has that kind of money. “Some dude named James brought up some crazy shit about a neck mark.” I hold out my hand. “Where’s my money?”

  “No!” he barks. “Tell me who put it on the back of your neck.”

  “Put what? There’s nothing there!” My anger’s rising, threatening to bring me to the place where I lose control and my self-preservation disappears. It’s a weird feeling. Sometimes I black out completely when I lose my shit. The last time that happened, when I came to, I was pinned under a security guard. Turned out, I had broken a girl’s jaw. I was sent to alternative school after that. Whatever. School is school. They all suck.

  “How’d you find out?” He backs up a step. “Is someone paying you to do this? Have you thought about the people you’re going to hurt?”

  “Are you drunk? Listen, I’m not Anna, and I haven’t claimed to be, so you can go.”

  He chuckles low and deep. “So, you’re trying to back out? Can’t handle the pressure already?” He scoffs. “We’ll find out who you’re protecting, so tell me who gave you the tattoo.”

  “Tattoo?”

  “Stop playing dumb. The tattoo on the back of your neck.”

  “I don’t have a tattoo on my neck, you fucking idiot. What the fuck is really going on?” I look around, not seeing anyone nearby but it’s getting harder to see because the fire is dwindling. “Is this a prank?”

  “Is there a problem?”

  I recognize his voice right away. I glare into the night not seeing anyone at first. A second later, Mr. Beefy’s large body comes into view. Now I get it. These two must work together. That explains the size of dark and dangerous in front of me. He’s security.

  “What are you doing here?” I throw the words at Mr. Beefy.

  “Here to get that DNA swab. Think I wouldn’t find you?”

  “Hoped,” I mumble. “And I don’t consent to being swabbed.”

  Dark and dangerous laughs. “It’s not about what you want anymore.”

  He moves fast, shoving me against the door harder than before. My shoulder hits first and hard. This asshole pins my body down with his. His large hand grips my face, squeezing my cheeks so hard I’m forced to open my mouth. He shoves a swab in and moves it around, not trying to be gentle.

  We’re not on anyone’s radar way over here but if I were to scream, I’m sure someone would come to see what’s going on. I don’t scream, though. I’m afraid one of these two idiots will say something about their ludicrous suspicion. The swab hits the back of my throat making me gag and then his body leaves mine.

  With my fists clenched, I spin around. “You can’t do that!” I lunge for the swab, but he shuffles back a couple of steps.

  “I can and did. Now, let’s go.”

  “Go?”

  “We’re taking you home,” the hooded jerk says.

  I laugh. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “We can’t leave you here,” he growls.

  Sleeping at home is a much better choice than Danny’s shit mattress on the floor, but I’m pissed off. I’d rather sleep in the yard than go anywhere with this guy.

  “Don’t you want your phone back?” Mr. Beefy says. “It’s been making sounds. It might be important.”

  My mind instantly goes to Tilly. She could have tried calling me. “Of course I want my phone, asshole.” I hold my hand out.

  The hooded jerk knocks my hand away. “Don’t be stupid. You know it’s not gonna be that easy.”

  I glare at them. “Straight home. I have pepper spray, and I’m a black belt in karate, so don’t try anything stupid.” Neither of those are true.

  “Whatever.” The hooded jerk turns around and begins to walk up the hill.

  “This way, Miss Westling.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I snap at Mr. Beefy. “How long is this DNA test gonna take?” I watch the hooded jerk bypass parked cars, heading toward a blacked-out SUV.

  “Sometime tomorrow. Nick is insisting we use a laboratory in California instead of something local here where we would get the results a lot quicker.”

  “Nick?” I question.

  “Dominick Cabot. He’s been helping Aiden—”

  “I know who Nick Cabot is. Wait, is that Nick?” I gesture to where the hooded jerk is moving into the passenger seat of the SUV.

  “Yes.”

  My eyes widen and what’s left of my buzz disappears. I stood up to Dominick Cabot, the broody asshole who put a handful of paparazzi in the hospital with his fists. The guy who “allegedly” led cops on a ten mile chase on his Kawasaki Ninja H2R but it could never be proven because he escaped. The fucking guy who has been arrested more times than I can count for bar fights and DUI’s.

  I clear my throat. “So, is Aiden here too?”

  “No, Aiden isn’t here.” Mr. Beefy opens the back door on the driver’s side and gestures for me to get in.

  I peer into the back seat making sure nobody else is back there before I hop in. The seats are cream-colored and leather. Nick is in the front, arms crossed, and hood free. I can only see the side of his face, but damn, that’s all that’s needed to see how gorgeous he is.

  It could help that I’ve committed him to memory, but not by choice. His face is
everywhere. He’s been on every cover of every magazine. His photos are plastered all over social media. Tilly even had a poster of him tacked to the wall in front of her bed. Some nights, when I’d sleep on her trundle bed because she didn’t want to be alone, I’d fall asleep staring at that poster of Nick Cabot. This is so weird.

  The overhead lights shut off leaving us in darkness when Mr. Beefy takes the driver’s seat and closes the door.

  “I’ll take my phone back now.” I reach my arm between the front seats, holding out my hand. “And don’t you need my address?”

  Mr. Beefy places my phone into the palm of my hand. “I have your grandmother’s address. The one on the NDA was fake.”

  “Imagine that.” I click my seatbelt into place as the SUV begins to move. “So, if you guys think I’m Anna, why isn’t Aiden here?” I check my phone for missed calls and messages, but there aren’t any. Well played, Mr. Beefy.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Get Aiden here and feed him a sob story. Try to get money out of him,” Nick says from the front, not bothering to turn around and look at me.

  I cross my arms and stare out the window. He can’t even answer a simple question, but I think I get it. Aiden hasn’t been informed Mr. Beefy thinks I’m Anna. No point in telling him or any other Westling without a confirmed DNA test.

  My eyes start to feel heavy, but I keep them open. A stupid headache begins to form right as we pull up in front of my grandmother’s. I push the door open and hop out. My bed is sounding really good right now. I pull the key from the frog statue’s butt, unlock the door, and then stagger to bed.

  Chapter 7

  I’m dizzy when I peel my crusty eyelids open. It feels way too early to be awake, but my desert dry as fuck mouth and full bladder force me up. I creep out the room, careful not to wake my sister.

  First stop is the bathroom and then I make my way to the kitchen. I pull open the fridge but shut it a second later. Everything in there needs to be cooked, and I don’t feel like cooking. I guzzle a glass of tap water.

  I would kill for tacos with extra taco sauce. Or chicken alfredo. That’s one of my favorite meals. Pizza is a close second and spaghetti is third. My stomach growls loudly, probably pissed off I’m not giving it all of our favorite things. I wish the nearest McDonald’s wasn’t ten miles away or that Nana didn’t meet her two best friends for coffee on Sunday mornings before church. I could totally go for a sausage biscuit and hash browns right now.

  I step outside and am pleasantly surprised to find gray skies. I grab the plastic Tupperware container from behind the bushes next to the porch, and then I drop onto the mesh hammock at the side of the house. I pop the lid and inspect the contents to make sure nobody pinched anything from my stash.

  Hoping the green will help me get back to sleep, I pull out a pre-rolled joint. The fresh air has me feeling a little bit better at least. I grab the black Bic from the container and light up.

  It doesn’t take long for me to smoke it down and drop the roach to the ground. The light breeze and blocked out sun has it feeling perfect out and not the ninety degrees it’s been. It’s cooler out here than it is inside. I let my lids close and my body relax. The soothing sounds of nature and my high help me drift to sleep.

  ***

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Get up.”

  The deep baritone creeps into my mind, bringing me to a half-awake half-asleep state. I’m on the verge of slipping back under to dreamland when the sting to my thigh has my eyes popping open. Dark brown eyes and hair; a beautiful fallen angel towers over me. His shirt is gray like the sky behind him. The thin cotton stretches over the thick muscles of his arms. Nick Cabot stands above me looking every bit as gorgeous as he does in his pictures. Maybe even more so in person.

  Nick Cabot is in my yard. Dammit. Why couldn’t last night have been a fucked-up trip from laced weed? I narrow my eyes when I realize he just fucking slapped me. I rub the spot on my thigh that’s turning pink. “What the fuck?” I growl.

  “Did you actually fall asleep out here surrounded by paraphernalia? And what the fuck are you wearing?”

  The contents of the Tupperware are on my stomach and the empty container is at my side. I quirk a brow. “Paraphernalia? Does this offend your royal highness?” I scoop up the offending paraphernalia and shove it back into the container. “And I have pajamas on.”

  “I can see your nipples.”

  I glance at my thin tank. It’s black, so you can’t actually see anything, but my bra-free nipples are pebbled from the fabric brushing over them and the cool breeze. “So. Everyone has nipples. What’s the big deal?”

  Nick’s jaw clenches. “This is why you couldn’t handle being Anna. If she were caught like this, the family name would be slandered.”

  I run my fingers through my tangled hair. “For smoking weed? It’s almost legal everywhere now.”

  His eyes are cold as his lip curls in disgust. “You’d be a drug addict, passed out on the lawn, after a night of reckless partying.”

  I get to my feet. “Whatever. I don’t give a fuck what people say about me.”

  He stops me from moving past him by stepping into my path. “In this life, it’s not all about you.”

  “Good thing I’m not a part of that life. Why are you here?” Behind him, Mr. Beefy is next to the SUV I rode home in. “What time is it?”

  “I’m here waiting for the results. The swab made it to the lab an hour ago.” His gaze moves to my legs and he clenches his jaw. “Your ass is hanging out.”

  I roll my eyes. I’m not even going to entertain that comment. “And again, why are you here? You can wait for the results somewhere else.”

  “You’ve already slipped away from James, twice.”

  “Whatever. Don’t wait in the yard. Feel free to leave once you get the results.”

  He glares at me, his dark brown eyes almost black. “Still determined to protect whoever told you about the mark? What if I raise the offer to a hundred thousand?”

  My dry mouth becomes even drier. That’s a lot of money. I could pay for college and help my dad with bills. “Erin Reynolds.” I instantly regret not asking to see the money first. My brain spazzed at the thought of having a hundred thousand dollars.

  Nick waves Mr. Beefy over. “Run the name Erin Reynolds.”

  Mr. Beefy pulls out his phone, taps at the screen, and then holds it up to me. “Which Erin Reynolds?” He scrolls through the names showing me it’s a really long list. “These are the ones in a sixty-mile radius.”

  “That one.” I absently pick one.

  Mr. Beefy chuckles. “Mrs. Erin Jane Reynolds. Her address puts her at the Sunny Days nursing home twenty-three miles away. She’s been a resident for two years and recently celebrated her eighty-sixth birthday.”

  Nick grabs my upper arms. “Do you think this is a fucking game?”

  His fingers dig into my muscles so hard it feels like he’s going to crush them. I bite back a yelp as he squeezes even harder, and then I yank free and slap him across his perfect face. My eyes are wild and wide as I watch his whole face turn bright red. My hand stings, so I know his face has to. His nostrils flare and jaw clenches.

  Oh shit.

  Keeping my eyes on him, I back up, but he’s quick and lunges. His arms wrap around my torso and lift me off the ground. He squeezes my back against his chest and begins walking swiftly toward their ride. I’m too stunned to do much about it.

  “Let’s go pay Mrs. Reynolds a visit at the nursing home. I bet the cops will want to speak with her for her crimes.”

  “Sir,” Mr. Beefy says.

  “Fuck off, James.”

  “Fine, you fucking asshole. I made it up! Let me go!”

  I’m released, only to have my back pressed against the SUV’s passenger side door as Nick’s body covers mine. “Are you going to tell me a name or not? I don’t play games.”

  We’re both breathing heavily as our eyes lock. His body is twice the size of mine. Even if I di
d know karate, I don’t think I could take him.

  “Sir, Aiden is trying to reach you.”

  James’s voice comes from close by, but I can’t pull my eyes away from Nick’s intense glare.

  The way his jaw is locked tight makes me want to run my fingertips over his full lips to see if that might loosen him up. He said he doesn’t like to play games. I think he doesn’t know how fun they can be.

  I’m not new to anger. I have my own demons coursing through my veins. For me, something thrilling, or sex can help bring me down. I wonder if Nick is the same? I bet he’s good in bed. From what I’ve experienced, the angry ones are.

  I’m probably fucked up for getting turned on by his anger and rage. My first relationship was intense, and according to my therapist, it was toxic. It was all about fighting and sex. The fighting made me feel crazy, and the sex made me feel high. I think we’d intentionally start fights to get to the sex. God, it was fucked up, and I’m fucked up for still craving it.

  Our eyes are still locked, but my eyes begin to burn, so I blink. Somehow that feels like I lose. My gaze moves down to his lips, and I lick mine. The chaotic energy swirling around us has me feeling so alive. This was what it was like with my ex.

  Toby was always rough with me when we’d argue. He’d pin me down to yell in my face. I hated the yelling, but the way he’d pin my wrists and press his body against mine, always made me crazy in a really good way. My shrink should have committed me. I’m fucked in the head.

  “Fuck.” Nick pulls his phone from his pocket and taps at the screen while bringing his forearm to my chest to hold me still. He doesn’t move his dark eyes from mine which makes this so much hotter.

  I’m sure any girl in my position would be turned the fuck on now too. Nick Cabot is uber fucking famous, rich, and fine as hell. He was voted hottest man alive last year in one of the girly magazines my sister reads. That helps me feel better about the way my body is reacting. My stupid nipples are straining against the fabric of my thin top and I’m wet, so damn wet.