Tryst Six Venom Read online

  I glide my fingers over her hands and up her arms, but I feel the bracelet she always wears and trace the snake wrapped around the hourglass. I can almost make out its fangs as I hold her eyes.

  “I like it when you bite me,” I tell her. “With your teeth…and your words.”

  “I couldn’t stop myself anymore.”

  “Why?”

  She leans up and takes my face in one hand, nearly grazing my lips with hers. “Because sometimes two wrongs make a right, Clay.” She breathes hard. “Because venom works slowly but surely and I was so tired of not fighting for my life. And because one of the ingredients in anti-venom is venom, and sometimes you need poison to counteract the poison.”

  “And if the anti-venom doesn’t work?” I tease.

  She plays with my skirt. “Isn’t it?”

  I smile. Oh, yes, it is. She pushed back, and I’m not at all unhappy about where she pushed me to.

  She drops back again, her eyes zoning in on me bare and open as I dry fuck her, and I thrust my hips, still slow but deeper and deeper. Her hands trail over my ass and up my skirt to my stomach before steeling on the joint between my hip and thigh. Her thumb rubs circles on my clit as she bends her knees just slightly and stretches her legs behind me.

  Can she feel it? Even with her clothes on? I want to get the hell out of here, but I don’t want to stop.

  I roll and roll, battering my hips into her until her nails pierce my skin, and I wince at the pain but love it, too.

  She grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in, growling in a whisper over my mouth, “It’s not over between us until I’m wearing something you can really ride.”

  A shiver shoots down my spine, and she doesn’t have to elaborate.

  “After that, you can go fuck a guy,” she taunts. “But you and I will know nothing is better than this.”

  I kiss her, her confidence tasting possessive, and I like it.

  Nothing is better than this.

  I groan. “I… Oh, God, I… Liv—”

  But a blaring sound hits my ears, and I startle. Liv sits up, hands still on my hips as tingles and heat rock through me.

  What? I wince at the sound.

  It’s a horn. Outside. It goes and goes. Blaring. Constant. What is that?

  “Liv?” I ask.

  But worry hits her eyes. “Shit.” She doesn’t look at me. “Baby, get dressed.”

  I ALMOST REACH for Clay’s hand, but I stop myself. Swinging the door open, I bolt out of the room, making sure she’s behind me, and we run down the staircase, hearing a commotion of chatter, laughing, and squealing as the horn screams into the night outside.

  Clay straightens her clothes and fixes her hair. “What is that?”

  “It’s the old storm siren.”

  “It’s still operating?”

  Obviously. I peer out the window as we descend, seeing waves rising high and crashing onto the beach. Darts of rain spear the windows, the staircase now empty as everyone evacuates, not so much because people are scared, but because rain means the canal floods and a lot of rain means the tracks close in case a train needs to break schedule to get out of Dodge.

  Anyone from St. Carmen needs to get home now or they’re here all night.

  Bodies pour out of the lighthouse, running to cars, and Clay and I stop, looking around. Dallas, Trace, and Iron came with me, and I look past the lightkeeper’s house, down the dirt road running parallel to the beach, seeing my brother’s truck.

  “Oh my God,” Clay breathes out, covering her head, rain plastering our clothes to us.

  I turn to her, wondering if we’re saying goodbye now, but then I decide for her. “Get in my brother’s truck.”

  She’s staying.

  I walk and she better fucking follow.

  We both run and then stop, cut off by the crowd running in every direction as they bump into each other and slip on the ground. Headlights light up the night, engines peel off, kicking up the inch of rain that’s accumulated already, and I see Dallas and Iron making their way for the truck.

  But then I hear someone scream, “I don’t care!”

  Krisjen stands opposite her shitty boyfriend, throwing her phone and then her arms, getting in his face and challenging him.

  “I couldn’t care less!” she goes on.

  He advances on her, the back door of his car open and a couple of guys from our school inside.

  “Post them!” Krisjen tells him, the rain making her white crop top see-through as her hair hangs in her face. “Post the videos and my texts and everything! Fuck it all! I don’t care!”

  He grabs her hair, and I jerk to attention. What the hell?

  “Liv, come on!” I hear Iron at my side.

  But I ignore him, seeing Clay head over to her friend ahead of me. “Milo!” she warns.

  But he pays Clay no mind. “You don’t care, huh?” Milo growls in Krisjen’s face.

  “What’s he talking about?” Clay yells at Krisjen.

  “He took a video of me ages ago,” she chokes out as he yanks her in by the hair. “The little bitch didn’t like me dancing with another man tonight, so he posted it online.”

  “He did what?” Clay barks, kind of forgetting she did the same thing to me, but whatever.

  “And she doesn’t care,” Milo repeats her words. “Doesn’t care at all.”

  “Nope, post them all!” she growls, defiant. “It’ll be the best way to get rid of you!”

  And it happens before I can leap—his hand whips across her face, sending her spinning and falling into the car. She catches herself, I jump into action, but then I feel Iron advance first.

  No. I stop and push him back, knowing one more arrest will be his last. “I will handle it,” I bite out, shoving him away.

  “Fuck that.” He pushes, trying to get past me to slice Milo up.

  “No!” I yell.

  I spin around to help Krisjen, but she’s already recovered. Launching back around, she slams a fist across Milo’s face, and he grabs his jaw, hunching over a little. I barely have time to be impressed before the back of his hand sends her flying to the ground.

  My brother grabs my shoulders, trying to throw me out of the way, but I dig in my heels, wanting to jump on Milo’s back and bring him down, but Iron is about to end his life, and my brother is more important right now.

  Clay runs over to Krisjen, but Milo reaches down and grabs his girlfriend. He shoves her into the back seat. “Meet some of my friends,” he says, spitting blood onto the ground. “You wanna fuck other guys? You can fuck them.”

  The guy in the passenger seat looks over his shoulder at the dazed Krisjen, while the guy next to her takes hold of her and Milo slams the door.

  I launch myself toward the car, yanking on the handle and hitting the glass.

  “Milo!” Clay screams. “No!”

  “Fucking Saints pieces of shit!” Iron growls, trying to kick the windows in.

  But Milo speeds off, all four men taking Krisjen with them.

  “Liv,” Clay cries.

  “Car now!” Iron yells over my head, and I turn, seeing Dallas and Trace jumping into the truck.

  Jesus Christ. Iron’s going to jail tonight.

  He runs, meeting the truck as Dallas pulls it around, and I push Clay toward the back door. “Get in.”

  I can’t let my brothers do this alone. Usually, it’s their own damn fault, but Krisjen needs help. I opened up the Bay to the Saints. This is my fault.

  We climb in, Dallas kicks it into gear, and we speed off after Milo’s douchey BMW.

  “Guys, don’t, okay?” I tell them. “Please. We’ll get her and then we’re gone.”

  But no one hears me. “Where’s he going?” Dallas glances over his shoulder at Clay.

  “How would I know?” She meets his eyes and then mine, suddenly defensive. “Back over the tracks where there’s more cops to stop you guys, probably.”

  “His house, Fox Hill, somewhere else? Where?” I question her.


  “I don’t know!” she insists. “There’s no clubhouse where our men take women to commit felonies, Liv! What do you want from me?”

  Clubhouse…

  “Fox Hill!” I shout to my brothers as I grab the dog tags and key around hanging from the chain around my neck. We’ll try there first.

  Clay takes out her phone, probably calling Krisjen. “Pick up, pick up…” But after a moment, she grits out a Dammit and hangs up, dialing someone else. “Milo, you asshole.” And then she hangs up again, Milo not answering, either. “I’m calling the police,” she says. “I don’t care.”

  But I push her phone down. “Don’t.”

  She stares at me. “He’s going to hurt her.”

  “They can hurt us.”

  “Which is exactly what they want,” Dallas shouts from the front, eyeing Clay in the rearview mirror. “You all live for this, don’t you? Are you that bored? Need to slum to feel a little excitement once in a while? Huh?”

  She narrows her eyes to slits, glaring back at him.

  “You got this bitch messing around with Trace to make her boyfriend jealous,” Dallas gripes, “and you’re doing the same thing, flashing your fucking little ass around here and screwing with Liv’s head.”

  I lock my jaw. Great. Thanks, Dallas.

  But instead of yelling back at him, Clay jerks her head toward me. “I’m not trying to make Callum jealous.”

  “You came with him, didn’t you?” I look at her. “Tryst Six is just toys to you.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Shut up.”

  I stare out the window, avoiding her eyes. I know I’m being unfair, but Dallas is right. The shit is hitting the fan, and it’s all the Saints’ fault. If Iron gets busted, we’re the ones who pay. Not Clay. She goes off to college in the fall, her little dalliance in girl snatch a nice memory for her. What the hell am I doing?

  “You know,” she starts, her tone low and hard, “let’s stop pretending that I am making you do anything you don’t want to do. If you were so angry with me, you wouldn’t have come back to school. You wouldn’t have come back to me.”

  “I didn’t come back to you.”

  She falls silent for a moment, and as we bounce over the tracks, I hear her start to moan.

  I turn toward her again.

  “God, you have a beautiful body,” she whimpers my words. “I want you to lose it in my bed.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  “I can do anything you want me to,” she whispers, breathing heavy and dragging her hand up and down her body. “That’s it, Collins. Fuck me.”

  Trace snorts in the front seat, while Iron has turned and is watching her.

  I see Dallas shake his head.

  I swallow. “Yeah, you liked that, didn’t you?” I reply curtly. “You like me inside you. And you want more of it. Not of him. You know why?”

  She arches a brow.

  “Because you’re gay,” I tell her. “You’re queer, Clay. Just like me.”

  The corners of her mouth tighten. “I am not.”

  So, it’s just me, then? Just something about me? Bullshit. She was checking Krisjen out on the dance floor tonight. Well, not really checking her out, but she was definitely noticing her.

  “And if I said I was in love with you?” I ask her. “What would you feel?”

  She stares at me, her wet, blonde hair sticking to her amazing body, and those big, blue eyes losing their defiance for a fraction of a second. Her chest caves a little, breathing hard.

  “I’m in love with you, Clay,” I tell her.

  The car falls silent, like my brothers are afraid to breathe because they might miss something. Her lips open a little, and God, the softness that hits her eyes makes her look like she’d blow over in a light breeze. I swear I see a smile desperate to get out, and I want to say it again.

  “Just kidding.” I force a scoff. “Just wanted you to see how fucking gay you are.”

  She jerks her gaze away, focusing out the window, and I stare at the reflection of her in mine. I can almost see her little snarl as she stares at my reflection too.

  I’m not in love with her. I’m leaving.

  Rain swipes across the windows, the wind blowing the drops into lines streaking over the glass, and the next thing I know, Dallas is jerking the wheel to the left and stabbing the brakes.

  The car stops, and Dallas shifts it into Park. “Get those motherfuckers,” Iron growls, grabbing a tire iron off the dash.

  “Stop!” I yell, seeing we’re on Main Street. We’ve caught up to them before they were able to get to Fox Hill. This is too public.

  But no one listens to me.

  The boys open the doors, racing out of the cab as the storm rages and gusts of wind bend the palm trees. I jump out and run, seeing Clay and Trace run around the other side of the car.

  I grab Iron by the belt and haul him back with everything I have. “Stop!”

  He’s just looking for a fight. Damn him. He’s the most violent nice-guy I know.

  Milo’s BMW sits stalled, his right front tire up on the sidewalk outside Enchantment, a boutique soap and shampoo shop. The traffic light above bounces on its wiring as it hangs over the middle of the thoroughfare, and the streets are empty, everyone taking cover in their homes.

  Another car skids to a halt behind Dallas’s truck; Aracely and Santos jumping out with other friends of my brothers—Carissa, Benny, and Tomb. I spot headlights over the roof of Milo’s car, and Callum Ames drives up in his Mustang, hurrying to his friend’s aid.

  Shiiiiiit.

  “Krisjen!” Clay calls.

  She swings open the back door, and pulls her friend out. Krisjen stumbles, holding her head, but her eyes are open and alert.

  She sees Milo climb out of the car and run around the hood, the tire probably inoperable, the axle most likely broken.

  My hair sticks to my body, a lock draped across my nose, and I grab Krisjen and shove her and Clay toward my brothers’ truck. “Get in.”

  I turn, pushing Iron back. “Leave it,” I grit out, but his eyes bear into Milo. Iron doesn’t give a shit about him hitting Krisjen. I mean, he doesn’t like it, but this is an excuse for a fight, and men are fucking stupid.

  He advances, and I push him back again. “No!” Then I look around. “Trace! Dallas! Get in the car! Everyone, now!”

  But Krisjen pulls her hand away from her face, seeing blood smeared on her fingers and glares at Milo. “You son of a bitch!”

  And she launches for him, her arms swinging and giving Iron the only invitation he needs.

  He dives in, wraps an arm around her, and hauls her away, pushing her toward me before he lunges for Milo himself.

  And the next thing I know, everyone is diving into the fray. “No!” I yell.

  Iron grabs Milo’s collar and throws him onto the hood of his car, pinning him with the tire iron, and Dallas crashes to the ground, one of Milo’s friends slamming into him and falling with him.

  I twist. “Clay!” I bark, seeing her hold Krisjen’s hand, looking left to right and backing up as their wet hair flies side to side. Why the hell isn’t she in the car?

  She meets my eyes, and I start off, but something grips my hair, my scalp screaming. “Ahhh!” I cry out.

  I hit the ground, my wrist twisting and hitting the pavement, and I flip around, blinking up at Aracely through the rain.

  “Let them play, Liv,” she snarls. “Go take your little whitebread pussy and get out of here.”

  I growl and shoot out my foot, slamming her in the knee. She flinches and hunches over, but before she can fall, Clay barrels in and shoves her to the ground.

  I suck in a breath, watching Aracely crash to the sidewalk, falling into the curb and crying out.

  I shoot my eyes to Clay. Dammit.

  Milo charges Iron, throwing his shoulder into his gut, Santos and Trace punch a Preppy, taking him to the ground, and Dallas has Callum in a choke hold, but Callum heaves forward a
nd throws Dallas over his shoulder and onto the sidewalk. My brother howls as he hits the ground.

  “Clay!” I rush over, grabbing her arm. “Stop!” I yell.

  She pinches her brows together.

  “Take Krisjen and walk home!” I shout over the storm, glowering at them both. “This is all your fault anyway. Just leave!”

  I don’t need her help. That’s the last thing I need. Aracely isn’t my friend, but she’s practically a sister. I can hit her. Clay can’t hit her.

  “Just go home!” I yell at Clay and Krisjen.

  I pull Aracely to her feet. Dallas is right. None of them will pay for this. Swamp doesn’t get away with shit. We’ll pay for everything, and tomorrow, my brothers will be in front of a judge.

  As soon as Aracely rises, she shoves me off and runs back into the fray, reaching down and yanking Amy by the hair, dragging her off Carissa.

  I turn back to Clay who stands in the street, chaos swirling around her, making her look like the eye of a storm. The rain pouring down her face looks like tears, her eyes glistening too.

  “We’ll always be this,” I tell her, loud but there’s too much going on for anyone to hear us. “Do you see that? Me loyal to my family, and you afraid of yours and your friends. This is all we’ll ever be!”

  Why did she have to come tonight? She should’ve just left me alone.

  “No one is worth this much trouble,” I tell her. “Not even you.”

  Her eyes fall, and for the first time, I see her speechless. She knows it’s true. We’re never going to hold hands, and I will always choose my family over her.

  Amy crashes to the ground at Clay’s feet, crying out as she lands on her elbow. Red instantly starts staining the rainy street.

  Clay barely notices, looking down and blinking as if she were beamed into this brawl and is trying to figure out what’s going on.

  Aracely grabs her hair and yanks her head down. Clay’s face contorts in pain, but she doesn’t make a sound as Ara shoves her with her foot and she lands in a puddle, breaking her fall with her hands.