Very Twisted Things (Briarwood Academy 3)

“I will never get enough of you,” he growled.

“What about you?” I gasped out.

“Ride my fingers, V, and when this night is over, you’re mine in about a million different ways.”

I nodded. Whatever he wanted. Him. Us.

I tossed my head back against the wall while his lips and fingers took me to the brink faster than I’d ever been. I clutched his shoulders and held on while he ravaged my skin, my lips, my soul. My body ached to relieve the need I read in his own eyes, and I tried to touch him, but he wouldn’t let me. “Just you, V. Just you. Always.”

Heat gathered in my spine.

I cried out his name when I combusted, and he groaned with me.

We collapsed against each other and I wasn’t sure who was holding up whom.

He smoothed back my hair. “V? I want to tell the world that you’re mine. I want to shout it out. Is that crazy?”

I smiled softly. “No.”

“You make me a better man. I promise you, right here, I will love you until the day I die. I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re happy. Forget Hollywood, forget music. If there’s no you, I’m lost anyway.”

“We’re going to have it all and more. I’m due.”

“Due?”

I pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling the last vestiges of my doubt fade away. “Fairy dust.”

“Just so you know, I’m not a fairy, but fairy dust is pretty cool.”

—Sebastian Tate

WE STRAIGHTENED OUR clothes and went back to the banquet. After the speaker and meal were over, we took the stage like we’d practiced the week before. She sat on a stool between us. Protected. As it should be.

I took the microphone, gazed out over the crowd, and poured on the charm that came easily to me.

“I’ve been told that so far we’ve raised half a million dollars tonight in donations. How’s that for a successful party?”

Lots of clapping ensued with a few catcalls. A few guests took up chanting—mostly the kids who sat the closest to the stage. I grinned and Spider took a big bow, rolling his hands out to the crowd as he strutted around in his blue mink like a peacock.

I raised my hand and spoke over the applause. “You may not know this, but LA is my hometown. From my heart, thank you for coming out and supporting this great cause. It’s an honor to be here tonight on this stage with the sponsor of the event, Miss Violet St. Lyons.” I cleared my throat. “We have a very special treat for you. V has agreed to play a song with us tonight.”

I took off my mink, tossed it on a stool, and turned back to a cheering crowd.

Spider started in with his bass guitar, the sound deep and melodic. Rich with a twist of grunge. The notes rang clear and slow as V kicked in a few bars later, cutting into me like a knife, the prick of pain in the music personifying her.

Elation lit me as I turned to watch her play. There she was, just a simple girl on stage cradling a violin, her music enough to make the hairs on your arms stand up.

She wasn’t leaving. She believed in us. She loved me. I loved her.

We played the song and the audience went nuts. Sometimes in your life you just know things, and my gut knew with certainty that that song would blow up the charts and that tonight wouldn’t be the last time V performed with us on stage.

The song ended, and I took a deep bow, grabbed V’s hand and dashed off stage.

It wasn’t the end of our set, but I had to kiss her. I fused our lips together and everything else faded away.

It was the beginning of a thousand stage exits we’d take together.

THE END