Justice may be served in hell, but patience isn’t one of my virtues. If God won’t punish the wicked, I’ll happily step in.
The back door clicks open. Tempest strides in carrying three bags of groceries and a small potted plant.
“Oh good,” she says, kicking the door shut behind her as she enters the kitchen. Erik is the first to greet her, accepting the spiky cactus she shoves into his arms as she sets the bags on the counter.
“You’re all here. Evie’s coming back tonight, and I don’t want a repeat of what happened last weekend.”
Dominic and Bane exchange a glance with Adrian, the three of them smirking as they turn toward me.
“Yeah, Silas,” Erik teases over Tempest’s shoulder, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “No fucking the new girl.”
A loudcracksounds from the pantry. A low curse follows as Tempest slams the door shut and stands, rubbing a spot on the back of her head while glaring at me. “What did he just say?”
I lift a brow, holding my sister’s narrowed stare. “I didn’t fuck anyone.”
“My bad.” Erik flashes a wide grin, slinging an arm around Tempest’s shoulders. “A kiss is different than fucking—though one usually leads to the other when I’m involved.”
Tempest rolls her eyes and shoves him off before stomping toward me, finger aimed at my chest. The rest of the Seven fall back, retreating to the safety of the couch for a front-row seat to the drama. Fucking cowards.
“You can’t, Silas,” she snaps, seeing straight through the practiced indifference I’ve mastered. “Evie’s family is even more overbearing than I thought. They want her to attend church every day, meaning she knows all the alcoves on campus. Last weekend was her first time in a club—and probably the first time she’s worn a dress that didn’t touch her ankles.”
Tempest’s frustration gives way to pleading. She’s begging me to understand how sheltered Evie is. How someone raised under that level of submission is naïve, impressionable, vulnerable. She hopes her words will turn me away. But all they do is flame the embers of desire I’ve spent the last week trying to smother.
She’s not wrong. Evieisa grown woman—but she’s never had control over her own life. She deserves the freedom to choose sin, to explore pleasure, to make mistakes. Tempest doesn’t realize that Ifeltthe way Evie leaned into me. I had my hand around her throat, and she didn’t pull away—she parted her lips like she wasstarvingfor me.
And her taste—fuck. She tasted like the sweetest ambrosia. I wonder how sweet her cunt is. How addictive her breathy little moans will sound when I make her fall apart on my tongue.
“Silas,” Tempest scolds, hands landing on her hips, like she knows exactly where my thoughts have wandered.
I tilt my head, ears pricking at the softclickof the front door closing. She’s here.
Is my little fox actually returning when people are awake? I glance over Tempest’s shoulder and spot the familiar shadow in the hall.
“Evie isn’t like the girls you sleep with,” Tempest continues, oblivious to her roommate’s presence. I open my mouth to warn her, but she holds up a hand. “She can’t play in your fucked-up fantasies. And she shouldn’t have to. I know you all have some kinky little brotherhood where you pass woman around like drinks at a party, but Iwon’tlet you do that to Evie. She probably hasn’t even had a boyfriend.”
“I didn’t say anything about being her boyfriend,” I say, catching the soft hitch of breath from the edge of the kitchen.
Erik strolls between us, reaching for the six-pack on the counter. He cracks one open and leans against the island, clearly waiting for the next spark to light the fire.
“That’s not the point,” Tempest growls. “Evie is my friend. I’m not going to let any of you hurt her.”
Porcelain skin and deep red hair come into view. She heard us, no doubt about it. I take in her rounded shoulders, the way she folds into herself like she wants to disappear.
And I’mgladshe heard. I’m not the good guy. Not the knight in shining armor. I’m the monster heroes warn you about. I fuck hard. I don’t go slow. I don’t do nice. And I sure as fuck don’t come back for seconds.
Evie, with her silver cross and sad eyes, is everything I need to avoid.
Her being a virgin doesn’t bother me. On the contrary, it’s theonlything I’ve thought about all damn week. I’ve imagined how her sweet little cunt would look stretched around my fingers. My tongue. My cock. Bleeding for me. I want to fill her, tease and suck and bite, graze her nipples with my teeth as I tear her reality to shreds. Force her to understand just how brutal this world is. And how beautiful pain can be.
Leaving her alone is the only option. Not just for her sake, but for mine.
But now she’s standing there, hovering at the edge of the room. The heavy heat of summer lingers in the air, the shitty A/C doing its best to keep the place cool. It must be windy out, because her normally perfect braid is coming undone, strands sticking out in every direction. Her cheeks are flushed, and there’s a hollowness in her eyes I haven’t seen before.
One that makes me want to hunt down the fucker who caused it and rip them to shreds.
Tempest realizes the silence has stretched too long, and she turns to see who I’m staring at.
“Evie,” she whispers, shaking her head before letting out a slow breath. “Shit.”
