“Where is she?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light, but my words are strained and unpleasant to the ears.
Mom bounces on the sofa, her expression becoming excited. “At a party! Can you believe that? I’ve been trying to get her to go out since she turned eighteen, but you know Jellybean. She’s always safe and responsible.”
My jaw ticks as my teeth grind. “Yeah. Always safe and responsible.”
There’s a pause hanging in the air between us, and for the first time, Mom gives me a pensive glance. The gears are turning in her head, and I feel as if she can see right through me. “Are you okay, hun?”
“Never better,” I mumble, stalking back to where I left my helmet before I rip it off the counter with a death grip. “I have to go—”
“They’re at Stephanie Du Point’s house. Over in Tribeca.”
My head whips around to Mom, but she isn’t looking at me. She’s staring straight ahead at the flat screen, the beginning credits of her movie starting. Awareness zips down my spine, but I shake myself out of it as I push off into the night.
There’s nothing I hate more than fucking house parties. The sounds of laughter and shrill screams, the bass of music that thumps so loudly you can feel it vibrating your sternum, and drunk people stumbling over themselves from every direction. The smell of sweat and alcohol permeates the air, making my nose wrinkle as I finish my cigarette before putting it out on the hood of someone’s Porsche.
In the yard, some poor girl is vomiting messily, her wretches almost loud enough to hear over the rap song thumping from the mansion. Her friends stand around her, swaying inelegantly as they pat her back and talk amongst themselves. Thompson Burt, a guy from Melody’s class, runs through the open front door, jumping over the stairs as he holds a pillow to his junk. His bare asscheeks disappear into the night as two other men chase after him.
This is hell.
I shake my head, my anger reaching a scalding temperature as I shove past drunk bodies. The inside of the house is just as bad, with shattered windows and people grinding on each other. It’s definitely not a place I want to see my sister in.
Stephanie Du Point, the cheerteam’s ex-captain, stumbles into my path, her wild brunette hair tousled as she slurs drunkenly. She stops the moment she notices me standing over her. Her face falls. “Oh, fuck…”
“Where’s Melody?” I ask over the music.
She leans too far to the left before slapping a sloppy hand over my shoulder. “Dude…everyone thinks you want tofuckyour sister.“ She hiccups, covering her mouth with a hand as her eyes widen before she breaks out in hysterics. “I can’t believe I just said that! Why would…why would you even want her when you could fuck me?”
Her hand tries to curl into the collar of my shirt, and I snatch her wrist, shoving her away from me. “Where the fuck is Melody?”
“Oouuu,” she drawls breathlessly, her body sagging. “Sister fucker, huh? She’s lucky. You’re so hot—”
I lose it.
I shove Stephanie into the crowd, watching as she’s swallowed alive before she lands on some girl’s lap, spilling vodka and cranberry juice all over both of their dresses. I leave the scene without a glance back, and everyone parts like the Red Sea when they notice who I am. A clear path is formed, and I catch an eyeful of Melody across from me.
She’s in clothes that don’t belong to her—tightly wrapped black leather and a sheer shirt. The knee-length platform boots show off her shapely legs, and her skirt hugs her ass so perfectly that I can make out where her skin dips. Her hair is styled half-up and half-down, with part of her golden curls water-falling over her thin shoulders. Over the years, her features have developed into something stunning. The small button nose, her plush, fuckable lips with a pronounced Cupid’s bow, and soft cheeks that flush a pretty pink shade anytime she’s embarrassed.
She’s a fucking goddess.
And currently surrounded by three men who stare at her hungrily. She’s talking animatedly, her arms waving as her glass tips slightly to the right. She’s inebriated and has no idea that her company is waiting to strike. They don’t care about her interests or her passions. They only care about the generous cleavage her little outfit is giving.
I shove people out of my way, closing in on my sister. I’m at her back, and I see the light drain from all three of the men the moment they notice me lingering over her like a daunting shadow.
“Umm…” One trails, his mouth moving like a fish out of water. “We have to go…”
“What? I was in the middle—” Melody’s slurred words cut off the moment they scramble away in opposite directions. Her shoulders fall. “What the…” She tenses the moment her spine tingles, awareness zipping across her senses. She slowly turns, her eyes wide.
“Busted,” I whisper, my expression hard and unforgiving.
Melody tucks her red solo cup close to her chest, her bottom lip bobbing.
“Let me save you the weak excuses,” I bite before leaning down and leveling our noses. “Either you come with me willingly, or I carry you out. Take your pick, little sister.”
She swallows, her eyes bouncing between mine before she takes a deep breath and steadies her voice. “I’m not leaving.”
“Excuse me?” My tone is lethal.
She tilts her chin up in defiance, putting on a brave act. “You heard me, Kaden. I’m not leaving.”
