Touched By The Devil (Boys of Preston Prep 3)

I cut off the main road and head over the bridge that leads across the lake. There’s a quiet spot that overlooks the dam and I slow the car, parking under a large oak tree.

We get out and walk around to the front. I watch her take it in, feeling electrified when her mouth curls into a surprised grin. There’s a wide view of the lake out here. In the golden glow of the sunset, it looks like a nice summer day, but it’s January and the trees are bare. There’s a chill in the air and I see her shiver, but it’s not exactly the kind I’d been hoping for.

I take off my jacket and offer it to her. “What do you think?”

“It’s fucking killer,” she says, blinking down at my jacket. After a moment of hesitation, she reluctantly accepts it, draping it around her shoulders. “I wish I had my camera.”

“We can come out again sometime,” I assure.

“None of the other people in the club have this view of the campus. Is that the bell tower?”

“Yep.” The top of the tower peeks out of the trees. “The Devil’s Tower. Or the Stairway to Hell. It has a few names.”

“Georgia said not to go up there with anyone unless I wanted to. Something about a secret society. Any idea what that’s about?”

I send her a smirk. “I could tell you, but you know how secret societies work. I’d have to sacrifice you after, probably in some dumb and unnecessarily sexual ritual with really bad Latin, swearing fealty to Satan, yadda yadda.”

Sugar would make a kick-ass Devil. She already fits in with all the playthings. She’s got balls of steel and is sharp as a tack. She has secrets. She has courage. But there’s no way that’s going to happen with only a semester left. The idea of taking her up in that tower and branding her with the mark is definitely appealing.

She leans back against the hood of the Shelby, something I would have thrown a goddamn fit about two days ago. Now, Jasmine is so battered and bruised that it seems stupid to care. “I watch Dateline, you know. That’s not really the kind of joke you want to make when you’ve got me alone in a deserted place.”

“It’s not as sinister as they like to make it seem.” Resting against the car beside her, I explain, “The way it works is that the Devils take girls up the stairway and mark them in the tower.”

“Mark them?” she asks, head tilting curiously. “How?”

“Well, if they’re really dating or serious it’d be something visible, like a hickey.” I push back her hair and press a slow kiss to the skin under her ear. I

don’t mark her, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to. “Or it may go further with a hook-up. Blow jobs, hand-jobs, even full-on fucking.”

Her face screws up. “While people are right outside?”

I laugh. “The thrill of possibly getting caught is part of the fun. Or so I’m told,” I add quickly. “The Devils were officially disbanded last year—mostly because of my brother—but traditions die hard at Preston. Someone may be up there getting marked right now.”

She turns to hold my gaze. “Have you ever been up there?”

That is not a conversation I want to have right now—if ever—but getting Sugar’s trust is important and I don’t want to lie. “On a dare. Last year.”

I wait for her to ask who I was with, but she doesn’t. She just nods, seeming unsurprised. “We have a place like that back home, too. Well, kind of.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s called Cliff Cave. Really original, right?” Rolling her eyes, she explains, “It’s the place to hook up. It’s kind of a rite of passage to lose your virginity up there, but god knows why. It’s cold and dark and wet, and smells like a mossy armpit. I could have come up with a million better places to lose my virginity.”

I look at her, head jerking back in surprise. Surely, she can’t be saying… “What, you’ve been up there?”

But she nods, looking nonplussed. “Toby Catchall. Halloween, junior year.” Her nose wrinkles. “He kept calling it ‘Clit Cave’, which is hilarious considering he couldn’t find one with a map and a compass. He was nice, though.”

“He was nice,” I echo tonelessly, eyes fixed to hers. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

She frowns. “What?”

“You let some guy fuck you?” I push off the car and walk three paces, only to double back. “Some guy named Toby? I mean, what the fuck?”

She glares daggers at me, jaw clenched. “First of all, I didn’t let some guy fuck me. You say that like I just laid back and let someone go to town. Pussies aren’t shiny toys that girls just lend out. And secondly, one of your past hook-ups literally lives with me, and you’re going to be salty that I’m not a virgin? You have no fucking right!”

“Georgia and I did not sleep together,” I clarify. “And I don’t care that you’re not a virgin. You said no one could touch you, I just figured—”

“Oh, you figured,” she snorts. “Well excuse the fuck out of me for managing to grasp a shred of something resembling a normal life before I became a total freak.”