Corrupt (Devil's Night 1)

He’d be lucky if I didn’t toss his damn phone—and all their memories—in the trash.

The rain had calmed, only a light sprinkle now, but the chill crept into my bones, and I considered calling my mom to pick me up.

But I immediately tossed the idea. I didn’t want her to worry about what I’d been doing out so late, since she believed I was sleeping at the Crists. And plus…I couldn’t face anyone. I needed to walk and be alone.

He’d almost been mine.

When he’d followed me upstairs in that warehouse, just like I’d hoped he would, I anticipated his touch the whole time. I begged for it in my head.

Just one touch, and I would know he wanted me like I wanted him, and I could be happy.

And then his hand came around my neck, and he pulled me into his chest, and I was his. It was done. Now I knew, and there was no turning back. No stopping.

Why did he ruin it?

He’d told me today in the catacombs that he wanted what he wasn’t supposed to have. He wanted to live without rules and defy everyone else’s expectations, and what did he do? He gave into them instead. He tied my hands and his.

He let the fear of his father and the threat of his brother hold us back, and what was worse, he wanted to put the same restraints on me that he was trying to shed.

I didn’t want anything planned. That wasn’t Michael, and it wasn’t me. I wanted the thrill and the playing, the drama and the fights, the passion and the craving.

I wanted to fucking frustrate him and drive him wild, but I couldn’t do that when he tried to micro-manage everything.

I wanted it all to be out of our control, because we had no choice but to dive in.

But that was short-lived. He pulled back, held back, laid down rules…

Fucking rules? How could he do that? That wasn’t us. We weren’t going to care what others thought, and we wouldn’t ask permission.

And in the span of sixty seconds I went from being the heartbeat in his chest to feeling like nothing more than his little plaything, pliable and unimportant. I damn-well knew someone like Michael Crist wasn’t going to stay celibate for a year, waiting for me to turn eighteen, either. I knew he wanted me. I felt as much when he ground between my legs.

But just because he denied himself from having me didn’t mean he’d deny himself altogether. I wasn’t that naïve.

Tomorrow he’d ignore me, and it would be as if this night had never happened. I’d want to be invisible in his presence, and even though I shouldn’t be, I’d feel embarrassed around him.

I dropped my head, strands of my hair spilling out of the hood as I walked down the dark road, the glistening blacktop reflecting the moon’s light.

I missed him already. And hated him.

A horn blared from behind me, and I whipped around, my heart jumping as I backed away, making sure I was off the road.

I stilled, seeing Michael’s Mercedes G-Class, and waited as it pulled up next to me.

Damon drove.

“Come on,” he told me. “Get in. We’ll take you home.”

I backed away, spying Kai in the passenger seat with his mask on. Will sat in the back, slouched down and looking two seconds from passing out. I didn’t see Michael.

I shook my head. “It’s not that far. I’m fine.”

I turned to keep walking, but Damon called after me, “Michael told us to make sure you got home. I don’t care what happened between you two, but we’re not letting you walk. Get in.”

Stopping, I looked ahead at the pitch black night on what I knew was a six-mile walk. So they hadn’t left me then?

My anger softened. My pride may be hurt, but that was no excuse to be stupid.

I averted my eyes, not wanting him to see how grateful I was, and opened the back door, sliding into my same seat.