Bury Me Before You Go (Pandemonium Book 1) Read online

  Nice try, God.

  Even if it’d be raining holy water, this city couldn’t be purified from the sins committed here.

  I should know.

  Bullet jumps three-sixties at the end of the leash, pumped up from the knowledge he’s going for a car ride while we walk out to my Audi. The whole car shakes as he storms to the backseat the second I open the door for him. It still amazes me he can be this hyped about cars since he’s been tagging along for the past five years already. Dogs.

  “Half-life” by Essenger starts to play from the speakers as I back up from my driveway. Getting out of the house that doesn’t feel like home anymore lets me breathe more freely. Though it might be the meds finally kicking in, but whatever, I feel lighter.

  I’ve been considering calling a realtor and getting rid of this place, starting again in a new house, but like everything else recently, I’ve been procrastinating with it. Maybe I’ll do it after Pandemonium is done.

  And if I don’t make it, then at least I haven’t used energy on something I have no use for anymore.

  Lennox’s house is a few streets away, and I park my car behind his Hellcat. Cruz’s matte black Maserati is beside it because, of course, he is early. The simple and modern single-storey house is just like its owner—bright and open. I help myself in with my own keys, Bullet hot on my heels, and just like I expected, he takes off the second we step inside. When I walk through the foyer to the lounge area, he wiggles around the three Dobermans who are lying on Cruz’s feet as he sits on the armchair.

  “About time for you to drag your ass here,” he announces, cocking a pierced brow. “Tell me you have good news.”

  Yeah, my father isn’t the only one who’s been pushing me to get my shit together. I shake my head to my friend, not hiding the truth from him like I had to do with Dad.

  “Nope, I’m fucking screwed.” Dropping my ass on the leather couch, I scrub a hand over my face, the anxiousness returning like it never left.

  “You can’t be serious. The naming of the lovers is tonight, Q, fuck.”

  “You think I’m not aware?” I throw my hands in the air, a ball of frustration replacing my lungs. “I tried —”

  “You’ve tried what?” he stops my pathetic attempt of explanation, flat out glaring at me from his seat. “Manifesting a chick from the ceiling of your bedroom? Dude, you need fucking help. Have you even asked anyone out like you fucking promised to us?”

  I wish I could say yes. “No, but —”

  “You don’t have a lover yet?” Lennox gasps as he appears from the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee in his hand and watching me with shock written all over his face. “Quentin, what the hell, man? Vincent will skin you alive.”

  It became clear when I listened to Dad’s ranting earlier. After that, he’ll feed me to my dog.

  “I’ll handle it today,” I convince them, taking a deep breath and forcing a charming grin on my face. “Look at me, I got this.”

  “Dude, no offense.” Lennox sighs, tilting his head with a grimace. “But you look like you haven’t slept in a month. You can thank your Spanish roots, so those circles around your eyes aren’t as visible as they could be. Otherwise, you’d look like a raccoon dressed in Armani.”

  “He’s right,” Cruz agrees, giving me a once-over. “You can’t have any standards at this point. No choosing, you’ll have to take what you get.”

  “Fuck you,” I bite back, even though I know they’re just trying to cheer me up. Or they realized it might be their last chance to pick on me, and these fuckers are using it.

  “No, seriously.” Lennox settles himself on the other end of the couch, eyeing me with soft eyes. “How are you holding up?”

  Moving my gaze from them to Bullet, I shrug, my stomach twisting to knots. “I’m gonna be fine. I’ll just sell the house and...” My words falter away because I don’t know what to do then. I can’t even plan what happens tomorrow.

  Being present is hard enough.

  Lennox places his cup on the low coffee table, grabbing his varsity jacket from the backrest of Cruz’s armchair, and swings it on. “Alright, we’re handling this now. Let’s go.”

  Apparently, Cruz is on board with him, getting up and pulling on his leather jacket. They’re like night and day, standing side by side — one looking like a college quarterback with his boyish appearance, and the other one like a henchman of Lucifer himself with his tattoos, and black, braided mohawk.

  “You heard him,” Cruz says, snapping his fingers. “We’ll find you a girl, and you’ll get through with this shit. I’m not letting you fail on this.”

  My body feels ten times heavier, but also, I’m a bit relieved they’re trying to help me. We’re not brothers by blood, but as the sons of the Six, we might as well be. Though our bond is tighter and more deadly than just a family relation.

  Usually, the first part of Pandemonium is the hard one. But I scored it, so fuck if I don’t get myself together and handle this too.

  SANGUIS AMANS. The blood of a lover.

  4

  “Quit the job,” my mother deadpans, dipping her chin up as she holds her classy coffee cup between her palms, her polished nails shining probably to the other galaxy.

  My fingers curl tighter around the backpack’s strap as I hold it open on the table, packing my water bottle in it. Keeping my jaw as relaxed as possible, I smile at her. “No, I won’t. I need money…” To get the hell away from you. “…to be independent and finish my studies. I’m sure you’ll understand it won’t look good if a twenty-year-old is unemployed and only lives under Mommy’s roof, right? Survivors from a tragedy, remember?”

  Only if I’d have realized this sooner myself.

  Her nostrils flare as her gaze turns icy, taking her sweet time before bothering to answer me. “Only as long as you’ll find another job. My daughter is not a waitress.”

  “No, your daughter is a photographer,” I snap back, unable to control my tongue. The only decent thing about my father was that for some reason, maybe guilt if he was human enough to feel such emotion, he supported my dream to become a professional photographer.

  Mom certainly doesn’t, and right now, it’s all over her face. “Taking pictures of trees doesn’t take you anywhere.”

  Like she even knows where I want to go. Actually, she doesn’t care. I should want to go where she wants me to go. My dreams don’t matter to her. They never have.

  But knowing she can make my life even more of a hell than it’s right now, I swallow the truths I want to spit in her face and force myself to bend.

  “I took a class about model photoshoots,” I lie through my teeth. “The visiting professor has been working for Vogue for years.”

  Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “You did?”

  “Yes. It’s fascinating, and from what I’ve heard, those pay well.” I swing my bag to my back, flashing her a smile. “I gotta rush, but don’t worry. This is just a temporary job.”

  Now I didn’t even have to seep lies since it is. As soon as I have enough money, I’m far away from this city without a backward glance.

  _____

  The morning rush keeps us busy, but what I learned about Nash is that he is entirely unaffected by stress. His jokes and funny comments from the kitchen keep the atmosphere light, so it’s basically impossible to get anxious about the rush. Add Hayley on top of it with her bright smile and happy-go-lucky attitude, and you have a perfect place to work.

  “Now I really get it when you said we don’t have to go for a jog after this,” I say, hopping up to one of the barstools and bending to rub my shins which feels like they’re on fire under my black jeans. Even though I hike a lot, it’s clearly a very different thing to walk on a hard floor than the soft soil of the trails. “I’m gonna need lotions and massage tonight, for sure.”

  “Do you have anyone to do it for you?” Hayley hands me a steaming teacup, quirking her brows. “Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

  Nash’s face appears from the kit
chen, an interested gleam in his eyes as he waits for my answers like a dog waiting for me to throw a bone for him. He’s cute, with his blond hair and shining eyes, but him being only nineteen against my twenty, there’s no freaking way that would happen. Even if it’s just a year, I can’t do younger guys. No chance.

  “No, no”—I wave my index finger at him, clicking my tongue— “don’t you look at me like that, kid.”

  “What? I’m almost the same age as you.” He squares his shoulders, a proud smirk spreading over his face. “I even have my own place and shit.”

  Hayley laughs, waving him off. “I wouldn’t mind you two hooking up, but ask Dean’s opinion, and let’s see what he thinks.”

  Cold chills creep up my back, making the hair on my neck stand on end even from the mere thought. Then, clearing my throat, I glance at Hayley. “Yeah, I don’t want to see that, but no, I’m not dating anyone at the moment.”

  For some reason, I seem to attract only the guys who turn out to be soft as vanilla when the lights go out. Maybe because, as Nixie would say, I look like a girl who you’d be happy to introduce to your parents. I haven’t even got my ears pierced, and I’ve never colored my hair. It’s a wheat blonde with lighter and darker highlights, depending on the season.

  Maybe after all this bullshit with my mother is over, and I can cut the ties for good, I should do something about it.

  Get a piercing, maybe?

  Go wild and color my hair?

  The bell on the door chimes, bringing in enough testosterone to grow a mustache even for Hayley and me. Luckily, that doesn’t happen, but it makes my skin turn hot and my stomach tingle only by looking at the three drool-worthy guys picking a table from beside the big window. Nash disappears into the kitchen as quickly as he came, but their reaction to me is the complete opposite.

  “I’ll take this,” I hurry to say, placing my tea on the side, and from the corner of my eye, I see Hayley throwing a glance in the squad’s direction. There’s a slight frown before it’s gone, and she smiles at me, but it’s not the brightest one she could offer.

  “Just a heads up,” she whispers, leaning closer as I step forward to walk past her, “this might not be the time for you to start dating anyone.”

  I cock an eyebrow, chuckling. “Was that the famous bad boy warning?”

  “A lot more than that. Trust me.”

  Obviously, Hayley doesn’t know me yet since that only piques my interest. Keeping that thought to myself, I grin. “Okey dokey, boss.”

  Picking up the pen and pad from the pocket of my red apron, I study the three guys sitting in a booth, chatting with each other as I approach. Two guys, who look like they’re from different planets, sit side by side, and the contrast between them is almost comical. One looks like a college jock with his unruly, sun-kissed brown hair and smug smirk, a blue-yellow varsity jacket covering his broad shoulders only emphasizing the look, but the other guy... There could be a text in his shirt that says I’ll wear black until I find a darker color. That is, of course, if you could write black on black. His raven mohawk obeys his master, like in fear of getting cut off if even one strand falls out of place. It’s braided back, and the sides of his head are shaved short, revealing a tattoo behind his ear. He looks too fucking menacing, even for my taste.

  My gaze travels on the other side of the table, and trying to gather my thoughts is a losing battle as I halt beside it, my stomach fluttering as the pair of the most stunning dark eyes connects with mine. Lost in words, I feel the heat creeping up my face, entirely held hostage by his gaze.

  It takes all of me to form simple words. “Welcome to Busy Beans. What can I get you?”

  Apparently, I don’t have that effect on him because, without any effort, he breaks the contact between us, dropping his head to look at the menu on the table. His slightly curly hair is longer from the top with a sexy, somewhat messy bedhead look, but the sides are shaved shorter, so the disheveled appearance is under control. Wild, but cool, and otherworldly gorgeous.

  “Coffee with extra cream,” he says, stretching his words as if thinking. His fingers slide over the laminated cardboard, the veins on his backhand bulging, and I bite my cheek in disappointment from his indifference.

  “I’ll take mine black.” The mohawk taps his knuckles on the table, leaning back on the bench, his eyes shamelessly scanning me from head to toe—the move I hoped his friend would’ve done.

  “Not surprised,” I mumble under my breath. Instantly I curse my periods to the lowest pit of Hell for making my self-control non existential. Am I trying to get myself fired?

  “What did you say, little mousey?” he asks, his voice hiding a sharp edge under the purring tone as he cocks his head while looking at me.

  My cheeks burn with heat from fear of pissing this guy off and getting a warning from Dean and from the fact that now all of them are staring at me. I drop my eyes to the pad, scribbling their order in it.

  “Just guessed your order right, that’s all.” I look at the smirking guy at his side. “What about you?”

  He opens his mouth, but his friend snaps his fingers, lifting his hand in front of his face. “Shut the fuck up, Lennox.” His eyes narrow, basically burning holes in my skull. “Since you’re such a clairvoyant, tell me what he’s having?”

  Oh my god.

  I glance at Hayley behind the desk, seeing her dropping her head back and rubbing her face. I’m getting fired sooner rather than later. Oh, hell, I will spend months here if I don’t get to keep this job.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” I explain, flustered. “Listen, let’s start over. This is my second day, and I really need this job, so please, don’t get me fired.”

  “Groveling looks good on you, little mousey. I bet you’d look even better on your knees.”

  “Lennox will have his coffee black as well,” the guy with enticing dark eyes says, letting me off the hook, and when I look at him, expecting to see some emotion on his sculpted face, all I get is boredom written all over it.

  Okay then.

  “Thanks, I’ll go get those.” At that, I spin on my heels, a mix of anger, frustration, and embarrassment spiraling inside me.

  That went freaking great.

  _____

  With every muscle in my body sore, I scramble the keys from my backpack and lock the doors of Busy Beans. No matter how tired I am, the fact that Hayley trusted me enough to lock the place up all on my own makes it all worth it. She said nothing about the minor incident with the guy who I managed to piss off, and I sure as hell didn’t ask. There weren’t more comments from the guy either, only a couple of glances from all of them while I pretended to be busy folding napkins after serving them.

  I’m usually good at controlling my emotions and keeping my tongue tied, but the situation with my mother is clearly affecting me more than I’d like.

  I check the door once more, maybe the fiftieth time, with a firm tug while picking my headphones from the bag with another.

  “Do you want me to check it too?”

  A soft but masculine timbre rumbles through me, making me yelp and spin on my heels so fast I almost drop the headphones. Clutching those tight against my chest, I try to keep my heart from pounding out as I take in the tall and lean figure on the other side of the sidewalk, leaning against what seems like a pretty damn new Audi TT.

  Thanks to my ex, who was a racetrack driver, I know about cars.

  But it’s not the car that makes my stomach flutter and my heart hammer even faster.

  It’s him.

  The dark-eyed guy with a face to die for. His earlier indifferent expression toward me is now something completely different, and I swallow, my skin tingling as I watch the charming dimples on his cheeks as he smiles at me, all wide and bright.

  What the hell is he doing here?

  “Did you forget something there?” I nod toward Busy Beans, internally commanding my legs out of the jelly mode they fell from the enchanting smile.

  “N
ot exactly,” he says, lifting the flaps of his black overcoat up. It looks absolutely drool-worthy on him, combined with dark denim jeans and untied combat boots. His eyes are ominous and alluring at the same time—two sides of the same coin. I have a feeling it applies to him in general, based on how cold he was earlier. Flip the coin and see what you get.

  I realize he didn’t actually answer my question.

  “What do you mean?”

  Tugging his hands into the pockets of his classy coat, he gives me a lingering once-over. Really, dude, now? Why not the first time you fricking saw me? The confusion and tiredness don’t stop my body from heating up under his gaze.

  “I didn’t want to disturb you while you were working, so I thought to stop by after it. What’s your name?”

  “Cierra.” I fold my hands over my chest, trying to get hold of what’s happening. “And you are?”

  The corner of his plump lips twitches as if I said something funny. “Quentin. Can I give you a ride home?”

  Pondering his question, I tilt my head to the side. “Why on earth would you want to do that? And how did you even know I’d be here?”

  He laughs, flashing me a dazzling grin which I feel in my knees. His charm is utterly compelling, almost tangible in the air, seeping into me through my pores, and even though I try to ignore his effect on me… it’s undeniable and very fucking dangerous.

  Magnetic strangers are poison for hungry hearts. That’s what Nixie’s Nana always says, and the grand old lady is right.

  Though, in this case, his appearance hits even harder down south.

  “It was a fifty-fifty chance, either you’d be closing up or not. Got lucky.” He taps the roof of his car. “Come on, princess. Let me give you a ride as an apology for my friend’s earlier behavior.”

  Princess? I’m not sure if I should be angry or smitten.