The Plath clones had to dodge out of the way to avoid getting hit, but I turned my back on them and walked toward Morgana. The only reprieve I had was that I wasn’t carrying Adina’s handgun, or I might have done something really stupid and usedit. Then I would’ve regretted it, and my life would’ve been ruined by a single moment of reckless stupidity.
We found the handgun under her mattress when we snuck into her room and searched the place, because Ez had a key. But you’d think a Boleyn would be smarter than hiding a gun under her mattress. Amateur.
I expected the Plath clones to follow me outside, seeking a fight, but they didn’t, and that was probably a good thing, since I was outnumbered. Although once I started hurling my fist, adrenaline pumping through my veins, it was hard to stop.
I stormed down the lane towards Morgana, but had a strange feeling that I had forgotten to grab my keycard before I left again. I patted my jeans pocket, hoping it was there, and maybe slipped it into my pocket without thinking, then stalled at the door when I realized I didn’t have it.
Fuck.
Begrudgingly, I make my way all the way around to the back of Morgana Hall, find a pebble on the path, then throw it at her window, hoping like fuck that she was inside. I could still remember the vanilla scent in her bedroom and a rose soap in the shower that well…kinda drove strong men wild. Ez was getting hot in there too and was close to jacking off on her bed until I distracted him by finding the Glock. Thank fuck.
She was supposed to be his fucking enemy, like the worst person in the entire fucking world. The family that put his father away in prison, yet the way he acted was like maybe he was getting off on it. Maybe it was a massive turn-on.
Anyway, I think Ez gave the gun to Sickle, and hopefully, he had hidden it well so their roommates don’t find it. We had hunting rifles locked in the games room, and only Sick had the key.
Her figure approached the window and opened it with a mischievous frown, and straight away, I noticed somethingdifferent about her. Her hair. That’s what was different. Wow, she looked like a completely different person.
Black, wavy hair fell over her shoulders and framed her face, and I barely recognized her at first as I’d only ever seen her with her hair up in a swinging ponytail. I bet it smelled nice, vanilla and rose, just like her room.
“Yes?” she flicked me a devilish look, like she knew why I was there. Or maybe she knew that it was me in her room last night, although I don’t think she knows yet that I’m basically Warwick’s brother from a different mother. And father. At least the Warwick boys knew where their father was.
Jeezus, I swallowed as I lost my voice for a sec there because she looked so hot. “Er, I forgot my keycard…again.”
“Again?” She was going to milk this, and I didn’t blame her; in fact, I found myself entertained by her performative bluster. I bet she looked fucking great naked, wearing nothing but a smile, hair swept over her pillow.
“Yeah, I forgot to put it in my pocket,” I told her as I patted my jean pockets with my hands to double-check that I hadn’t missed it.
“Maybe you should like…” she leaned over the side of the window ledge and her tits bulged out, and mt hand naturally went to my cock over my jeans, but I had to stop myself. “Turn it into a lanyard and wear it around your neck, so you never forget it.”
“I’d rather have my eyeballs poked out than wear a lanyard,” I told her truthfully, and she snorted in laughter, which uplifted my entire body. The black mood I was in after confronting the Plath clones vanished, replaced with a small pot of sunshine. I wasn’t one hundred percent happy because she’s obviously not a miracle worker, but happy-ish. How did she do that?
“What is your name?” she asked, placing her elbows on the window ledge and lacing her fingers together, forcing her armsto press against her tits, and they almost escaped the t-shirt she was wearing. Fuck.
“I thought I already told you,” I replied, trying hard not to look at those tits, but fuck, where else do I look?
“You did, but I missed it. You were mumbling,” she revealed, and shrugged my shoulders.
“Well, yeah, I do mumble, especially when I’m hungover,” I stated as she was distracted by something behind me. I glanced back to see that the Yorkies and their leeches had arrived on the field with a football and were tossing it around. Declan, the older clone, was on Sick’s team last year, the Castlehill Kings. I guess he’s practicing for tryouts. The last thing I needed right now was for them to notice me talking to her.
“Lev,” I replied to bring her attention back to me. “My name is Lev.”
Her rose-colored lips parted as those eyes warmed, and she looked down at me. “Lev,” she nodded as if it made sense that I was called that. “Do you know them?” She pointed to the golden-haired boys, and I didn’t need to follow her finger to know who she was referring to.
“A little,” I said, unenthused. “Are you going to open the door or what?”
“What,” she shot me some cheek. Was she flirting with me? “What would be what?”
“What?” She was doing my head in. “Look, if you don’t open the door, I’ll have no other choice but to climb up there.” I began walking towards the wall of our building as her pretty, curious gaze watched me, and I grabbed the pipe that ran down from the gutter and hoisted myself up.
“Oh my gosh, you are coming up here,” she panicked a little, flapping her hand. “Wait. No. You might break the plumbing. Head around to the front entrance, and I’ll come down to let you in.”
“Good,” I jumped off, checking behind me again to see if the Yorkies were watching, and this time they were and were walking over, pumped up, ready for a fight. There were five pretty boys, and honestly, I’d give it a good shot, but I had to see about a girl. Sorry fellas.
I jogged around to the front of the residential buildings and approached the main entrance of Morgana. When my gaze caught her, I stumbled and lost my cool for a second. I quickly pulled myself together, but damn, what a sight. She was standing, leaning against the open door, waiting for me to arrive— luscious black hair, wearing grey sports shorts and a black crop top, cut low and stretched over those round tits.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, grabbing the door, and she backed away, but caught me raking over her bare legs.
She was totally fuckable, more than fuckable, but I was forbidden to go there. Sickle called the shots.Don’t touch the Boleyn girl.He meant don’t touch her in an intimate way; however, touching her to hurt her was a different story. He, even more than Ez, hated her and what her family stood for because he’s two years older, as he remembered the hell his family went through more than Ez and me.
