Page 59 of Don't You Pucking Dare

Amanda screams somewhere behind me, but I can't look away. These men—these monsters in expensive clothes—are fighting over… me. Or because of me. The distinction feels important, but my drunk brain can't grasp why.

Brody's forehead smashes into Jack's face. Jack crumples, strings cut.

"You killed him!" Amanda's voice rises hysterically. She screams. "You just fucking killed him!"

"Shut the fuck up, Amanda." Brody wipes blood from his mouth. "Caleb."

They drag Jack's limp body behind the bench, laying him in the grass like some twisted garden sculpture. Caleb pats him down, finding a gun that makes my stomach turn.

"Here." Brody holds the weapon out to me. "Take it."

"Are you insane?" Caleb hisses.

"Who's gonna search her?" Brody's eyes lock with mine. "Duchess?"

The gun hangs between us like a test. He's either setting me up or... trusting me. The way he watches me, intensity cutting through the blood on his face.

He keeps eye contact, his gaze softening––it hits my gut first. This is trust.

I take the gun, sliding it into my bag next to my own weapon. We're all playing games tonight.

"He won't be out long." Brody's fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling me away from Jack's unconscious form. The gun weighs heavy in my bag, full of questions I'm too drunk to ask. Is Brody protecting me or playing me? Every riddle, every warning circles in my head like a broken record.

Back in the mansion's heat and noise, Amanda pulls me toward the bar. "I need to forget that happened." She pours shots with shaking hands. The tequila burns away the garden's darkness.

We lose ourselves on the dance floor, letting the bass drown out everything else. Amanda presses against me, her lips brushing my ear. "Caleb's watching us."

I follow her gaze. Caleb leans against the wall, that dangerous grace all the Reapers share. "Watching you. You should go for it," I tell her. "He's hot."

"Not Brody-hot," she giggles, "but I'll take it."

The night dissolves into flashing lights and pounding music. The guys join us, and Brody's hands find my hips. The alcohol makes everything feel dream-like, until Jack appears in the doorway.

He looks right through us, face already bruising, and disappears around the corner. My heart stutters, but Brody turns my face to his.

His kiss tastes like blood and victory. I should be terrified of what that means, but his hands are steady on my waist and the gun sits ready in my bag. He was right about what he said in the hallway earlier. Tonight is fun.

Amanda throws me a knowing look before disappearing down the hall with Caleb. The party’s dying just scattered groups of drunk students and the heavy aftermath of bass in the air. Brody's hand finds mine, leading me deeper into the mansion's maze of hallways.

"Where're we going?" I press my face against his chest, everything still spinning pleasantly. His cologne mixes with the metallic hint of blood from the fight.

He guides me into a room I've never seen, moonlight spilling across a pool table. Brody sits on the green felt, and even with his knees bent, he towers over me. I pull his face down to mine, drunk enough to be brave.

"Miss me?" I ask as the words ghost across his lips.

His teeth catch my bottom lip, followed by his tongue. "Want to feel how much?"

My hand slides down his chest, finding him hard through his jeans. The alcohol makes me bold, reckless. I want him here, now, consequences be damned.

"Glad you came tonight." His voice sounds different, distant.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." His eyes shift over my shoulder, just slightly.

My stomach drops. Before I can turn, fabric covers my face. Chemical sweetness fills my lungs. I feel Brody's hands on me—steadying or restraining, I can't tell anymore.

"Brody!" His name comes out muffled, desperate.

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