Page 44 of Beautiful Dark Temptation

Cameras? What cameras?

I heard someone come up the stairs and I hidin my room, listening to Kieran enter his room next to mine. I ranover all the things I wanted to do. Face him. Ask him what theymeant about the cameras. I stood in front of his door, hand raised,ready to pound and kick and scream. But something, I couldn’t saywhat, stopped me. I lowered my hand took a floundering step backuntil my back hit the wall opposite the door and just breathed.

Did I want to know? What would I do ifKieran told me he kept eyes on me, on my bed, in my private space?Would I hate him, hit him, tear him a new asshole?

My father always said not to go digging foranswers I wasn’t ready for.If you’re not ready to face theconsequences of those answers, just let it go. I knew Kieranwouldn’t show anyone those videos. He had more to lose than I did.It must’ve been an oversight on his part. Something he’d forgottenabout, which meant he must’ve been as out of it as I was lastnight. Except, he hadn’t been buzzed or drunk. Which meant, I hadscrambled his shit just as he scrambled mine.

I slipped quietly back into my room. Let himwatch me. I had nothing to hide.

Chapter Twenty-One

Tomás

Performing in a musical turned out to bebootcamp under Mrs. Comiskey’s glaring eyeball. Even Blake T didnot fight for his role back. I had four weeks to get whipped intoshape. Meant two hours of training with Mrs. Comiskey about thebasics of breathing and singing. I almost passed out twice. Then, Ihad to run up and down the stairs at home while singing, loud,which I did only when I knew the other guys weren’t home. Yogabecame a thing. And tea. Mrs. Comiskey was a tea drinker.

Yuck! Gross!

But she did plan a better diet for me andthe others who had to sing. We only had to suffer through eatingdinner with her and listening to her stories of a life lived on thebackstreets of Broadway. That’s how she called it. She was a hotlittle thing in the eighties. The other students were as enamoredby her stories as I was. It was hard not to be. The arts weren’tsomething people just did to earn money. It’s a calling. “Full ofterror, heartbreak, and self-discovery,” Mrs. Comiskey said. “Butwhen you complete your portion, an act, on stage and feel theenergy in the crowd, well,” she smiled and took a sip of her thirdglass of wine, “that’s transcendence. No one can take that awayfrom you.”

When the others left, I helped Mrs. Comiskeyto her room. She was a bit bubbly by that point. She patted myhand. “You are such a good boy, Tomás. I can see it in youreyes.”

I thought about all the ugly in my life.Everything I did before Arcadia. Before I tried to kill Maddox.“You don’t know me very well, Mrs. Comiskey.”

“No, I suppose not,” she said.

I watched her sit at her vanity table andpick up one of those flashy hairbrushes. Her eyes drooped, but shedid her thing anyway. “I’m going to lock up, Mrs. Comiskey. Youshouldn’t leave your door unlocked.”

She gave me a smile in the mirror. “Thankyou.”

I felt the wedge building in my throat,nodded, and walked out. I locked her door and sprinted out of hergarage as the big door was sliding down.

A good boy.

I’d never wanted to be a good boy. A goodboy meant doing what you were told. And that would lead to a lifethat didn’t belong to me.

And I wanted my life to be mine.

The sound of laughter around Arcas housedrew my attention. Kieran had been avoiding me since we fucked.He’d gone back to being the dick I had hated. I caught sight of himwith his newest attraction. Some girl named Marley. Another blonde,blue eyed, curvy figure. He even chose girls that were the oppositeof me.

It was cold as shit, and she didn’t havemany clothes on. She gave Kieran a searing kiss at the passengerdoor, then climbed into his car and they took off. Fox, Wren,River, and Henry took off behind them in Fox’s Jeep.

And I stood there, like a total wanker. Ididn’t know what wanker meant, but it sounded bad enough. My chesthurt. Like,hurting. As if Thor himself had taken spaceinside my chest and was now using Mjölnir to hammer his way out.Like a dejected loser, I slipped into the empty house.

I was used to being alone in the house.Whoever their sponsors were gave them free reign. They came andwent as they pleased. I hadn’t even thought to call Dasher or Jackto hang out. My head too damn fuzzy. I smoked a joint, played thepiano, read, used the gym to shake off this thing building insideof me.

Kieran and Marley kissing.

Dancing.

Grinding against each other.

Fucking.

I growled and slammed my fist into thesandbag over and over thinking it was Kieran’s face. What the hellhad I expected when he’d claimed me? Called me a damn pet. Islammed the sandbag harder.

He’d warned me that it could only happenonce. That he wanted to forget it. But he’d also said that I washis. If I was his, what was he doing withher?If I was his,then he was mine.

“I’m going to brand you with mymark.”His words had burrowed so deep into me that I had wantedit, no, needed it. To be branded with whatever mark he’d give mebecause it meant he’d be mine. He’d protect me. It meant Ibelonged.

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