Angry God

I twisted underneath him, panting with joy. “Sod off.”

“Hmm, what you really mean is carry on, right?” Pope licked his lips, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Because every sane man knows no means yes.”

My stomach hurt from laughing. He was ridiculous. I pretended to fight him when, out of nowhere, Pope flew off the top of me, his back slamming against the opposite wall of my room. At first, he seemed to have been sucked by the air or an invisible monster, like in a movie.

I yelped, darting up in bed, but then a shadow loomed over Pope’s figure like a dark demon, and I knew exactly who the monster was.

“Touch her again, and you won’t have hands to protect your ugly face with, legs to run from me, or a tongue to rat me out. We fucking clear on that, Rafferty Pope?” Vaughn’s voice pierced the air like a snake’s hiss.

Raff didn’t even get the chance to answer before Vaughn’s fist raised in the air, aimed at his face. I jumped on Vaughn, wrapping my legs around his waist from behind and jerking his curled fist back.

“You idiot!” I screamed, falling to the floor and hitting Vaughn everywhere. Back. Shoulders. Head. “We were just taking a piss. He didn’t try to hurt me!”

What was Vaughn doing here, anyway? And since when did he care what happened to me?

He turned, and his eyes scared me. They were so much darker than their natural color, and full. Full of hatred and anger and…fear? I swear I saw something genuine behind them.

“You fucking him?” he spat.

“My sex life is none of your business,” I said flatly, regaining my composure. He’d ghosted me the entire day, and came back at night to do…what, exactly? But the answer was obvious. Me. Or at least he wanted from me what he’d gotten from Arabella, Alice, and his harem of teenyboppers: complete submission and head.

He’d come to the wrong place.

“Answer me!” He raised his voice.

“Of course I’m having sex with Pope.” I smiled sweetly as Pope stood up, eyeing Vaughn with fresh, new hatred. “Look at him, Vaughn. Pope is ten times more talented than you are, sane, and gorgeous. You taunted me about being a virgin our entire senior year, but you know what, Spencer?” I rose on my tiptoes, bringing my mouth to Vaughn’s ear and dropping my voice so Raff couldn’t hear us. “I think you’re the one in need of a lesson or two. Standing there getting your dick sucked doesn’t exactly require much skill, and I don’t believe for one moment that you don’t want to touch me. You just don’t know how.”

Shockingly, he took a step back. Then I saw his wild eyes, slightly out of focus, and knew I’d pushed him too far.

“Whatever you have going with him stops now,” he announced. “You were my property at All Saints, and you’re sure as fuck my possession here.”

“Whoa…” Pope laughed behind Vaughn’s back, causing both of us to turn toward him. He brushed the dust from his trousers. “Someone needs a Xanax, a drink, and a reality check. She’s no one’s property, mate. The 1800s came and went. Women get to decide these days. Radical, I know.”

“Shut up,” Vaughn snapped, turning back to me. “I’m staying here tonight.”

I tried to swallow my hysterical laughter. And succeeded, for the most part.

“Out.” I pointed at the door.

“Had a really shitty day, Good Girl, and I’m not in the mood for a fight. But if you pick one, you better know you’re going to be on the losing end.”

It was silly to consider his feelings, but even in the dark, Vaughn looked so tired and worn out, I didn’t want to be the one to break him completely. For some reason, even though I enjoyed drawing his blood, I realized I no longer craved his pain. And that worried me. A lot.

I exhaled, giving Pope a slight nod. “It’s fine.”

“You sure?” He frowned.

I stepped around Vaughn to hug Pope, realizing it was probably the first time he and Vaughn had met.

“Vaughn, Pope. Pope, Vaughn. Pope is my best friend. Vaughn is…” I trailed off, looking between the two guys standing in front of each other. “Vaughn is a cunt,” I deadpanned.

“Arabella said you helped her fill out the application form I daftly accepted. Cheers for burdening me with a rubbish assistant who is barely literate.” Pope extended his hand, and Vaughn examined it a moment before shaking it reluctantly.

“Touch Len again, and Arabella will be the least of your worries.” Vaughn smiled politely, giving Pope’s hand an unfriendly squeeze.

Pope whistled, arching an eyebrow. “Len.”

I swear Vaughn blushed, but it was too dark to tell.

“Run along now, friend,” Vaughn admonished.

Once we were alone, he turned to me. I slipped back into bed, ignoring his presence. I was tired from roaming the castle all day trying to find him, and I didn’t want to fight. I cracked open my fantasy book and perched it against the wall I was facing, as if I weren’t in the pitch dark. Behind me, Vaughn made a move to get into bed.