Angry God (All Saints High 3)

“Jason…” she started.

I wanted to punch her on his behalf, bile rising in my throat like an overflowing saucepan. He stared at her, agony dripping from his expression, wordlessly pleading with her not to finish the sentence.

“Practice makes perfect, though, right?” I interjected with a chirp, taking a step forward. “And since Alice is oh so kind as to demonstrate her flawless oral-giving technique on Vaughn, would you mind being my guinea pig, Jason?” I unzipped my leather jacket, shrugging out of it and flinging it over my shoulder. I offered him my hand for a shake.

It was perfect, really—the look of horror on Alice’s face when Jason threw a look at Vaughn, whose jaw was ticking, and took my hand, shaking it limply.

“Don’t worry. I’ll still be watching.” I patted Vaughn’s back, keeping my tone light as the four of us headed down the corridor to God knows where. “Although, I may have a few tricks up my sleeve.” I winked.

Lies.

I’d never given a blow job before, and up until a minute ago, had no immediate plans to perform the act on anyone but Alexander Skarsgard, who, unfortunately, I had no real prospects of ever meeting. But Vaughn was pushing me, and Jason was trying hard not to cry, even though his humiliation was bloated and hanging in the air, like fog.

If I could recover some of Jason’s self-esteem, while shocking Vaughn into understanding that I was no pushover, maybe he’d finally back off.

But Vaughn didn’t look shocked at all. He looked…pissed. His jaw was ticking so hard I thought it might snap out of his mouth and bite my face off. He tugged at my sleeve, jerking me forward, forcing me to keep up with his pace, a few feet ahead of Jason and Alice.

“What the fuck are you trying to do? Prove a point?” He bared his teeth.

“What point would that be? That I have a mouth?” I smiled serenely, taking weird pleasure in knowing he was irritated. “Maybe I want to get some action, too.”

“With that fuckboy?” Vaughn snorted, his nostrils flaring. I matched his stride, desperate not to pant. “He wouldn’t know how to get you off with four dildos, a magic wand, a vibrator, and the entire football squad.”

I would’ve laughed if I weren’t so nervous about what we were about to do.

“Some like dark, tall, and handsome. I like fair, short, and…sane.”

Vaughn yanked a door open and shoved me inside wordlessly, with a force that said he was royally pissed. The room was dark, cluttered, and stuffy. It smelled of dust and cleaning products. The janitor’s room, I figured.

Enchanting.

Alice and Jason joined us, and Vaughn shut the door behind them. He flicked the light on. Still frowning, he started working his belt in angry, jerky movements.

“I can help you with that.” Alice licked her lips, waiting for his okay.

Jason eyed me warily, expecting directions.

What have I gotten myself into?

“Jason, come here.” I waved him over awkwardly, gathering my tar-dyed hair and dropping it over one shoulder. He shuffled toward me, bumping his knee on a broomstick on his way. Vaughn’s hawk eyes followed us as Alice continued unbuckling him. The sound of the metal clicking made my heart jolt.

Alice cupped Vaughn’s groin through his black briefs, but he was still looking at me.

“Lenora.” His voice held a threatening edge, cruel and cutting, like broken glass. I knew a warning when I heard one.

Ignoring him, my unstable fingers worked Jason’s buttoned trousers. Flashes of me in Carlisle Castle, shaking under Vaughn Spencer’s finger like a leaf, ran through the dark corridors of my brain. He thought I was such a naïve, weak girl.

If I had to suck a stranger off to show him I, too, had a dangerous edge, I’d make the sacrifice and deal with the psychological damage later.

Holding on to all that unchanneled hate would likely give me a heart attack, as it was.

Even though I hadn’t intended for it to happen, Jason’s trousers slid down, the fabric pooling around his ankles with a soft thud. He was in his briefs now, and already hard. I watched the bulge of his penis, plastered to his stomach through the fabric—like a leech, long and swollen and frightening.

Lenny, you daft cow, you really did it this time.

No part of me wanted to do this. The right course of action had to be informing the educational staff and my father that Vaughn had been bullying me. Not that he did exactly that. He hadn’t forced me to do anything, but he challenged my every step, and made sure I remembered I didn’t belong.

This wasn’t a movie, though. No one would find my actions heroic or acceptable if I came forward and complained. People were going to call me a snitch, turn against me, and seek me out, whereas now, most of them simply ignored me or called me names. All told, I had a little less than one year to endure here in California. I could suck it up.