Page 50 of Endless Anger
But I don’tfeelalone.
Distantly, a branch snaps. I spin toward the noise, scouring the shadows, but come up empty again. The muscles in my arms cinch tight, tension threading through them. My vision is a little fuzzy, but I swear I see a figure dash between two trees.
I turn around again, not fully certain which way I came.
Any footprints on the ground have been swallowed back up by the soft earth.
Laughter reaches my ears next, and I swivel in its direction, hopeful over how feminine it sounds. I follow it, my heart pounding, sticking close to the trees as I move.
“If that’s you, Aurora, I’m literally going to gouge your eyes out.”
A shiver coasts over my spine, getting caught in the ridges. I don’t get a response, but the laughter suddenly stops.
Moaning ensues instead.
I freeze as sounds of pleasure fill the air. Grunts and groans float to the treetops, getting caught and plummeting back down like heavy rainfall.
Fascination skitters along my arms, buzzing all the way to my fingertips. Again, I move toward the noises, clinging to the shadows as they get louder. Closer.
With trembling hands, I peer between two trees, coming face-to-face with the complete opposite, empty end of the quarry. This side morphs into the mountain, connecting us to the barrier while bracketing Lake Lerna below the cliff.
Several feet away from the edge, a group of people are twisted up inone another. My chest tightens as I watch the shadows move together, their bodies writhing on the ground.
One shadow stands over the others in front, and I watch silently as the person seems to reach for their waist, undoing their pants. They’re just barely visible in the moonlight, and I lean forward, trying to make out the identities despite the white masks and black hoodies some of them are wearing.
Death’s Teeth members? They’re notorious among students for public excursions like this one, especially during full moons, but I can’t imagine they’d be so bold during a Curator party.
An anonymous student organization, they tend to hide in the dark and commence their activities where they have time to clean up the messes afterward. Typical vandalism and occasional drug-induced sex fests are their legacy at Avernia, though there are rumors about more violent traditions as well.
Some say they’re vigilantes, seeking justice for those who’ve been wronged by the other organizations. Others say they’re self-serving, seeking control of the entire town, and that the increase in student suicides over the last few years can be traced back to them.
I say nothing at all. I don’t want their attention.
Their iconography—some sort of three-headed beast emblem—is carved in the biggest trees in the forest, spray-painted on quarry rocks, and etched into bathroom stall in the dorms. A calling card of sorts that they tend to leave after they’ve been somewhere.
For some reason, everyone thinks I’m a member.
I couldn’t even get Visio Aternae to accept me. There’s no way a shadow group would risk its reputation for me. But since they’re notorious, people just assume I’m involved.
“Oh,shit,” one of the orgy partakers cries out—a woman’s voice I’m awfully familiar with. That must be who’s in the middle of the human sandwich, and I roll my eyes. So much forno dicks in this economy.
Gurgling cuts off whatever she’s about to say, and I see the person before her ram their hips forward, shutting her up with what looks like acock. Celeste gags, and it takes a moment before she’s given any reprieve; then she’s yanked off, gasping for air.
Heat singes my entire body.
“Christ, Beckett, she’s gonna pass out if you keep doing that.”
The heat evaporates with that one sentence, and when I squint, I can make out his black hair and the outline of his dimpled chin. He’s the only one not wearing a disguise.
Beckett?
Of course, Celeste is out here with the president of the Curators. I don’t know why I’m surprised, really, given that she’s a member of the organization. Maybe I thought our association would have her excommunicated, but clearly?—
“Who fucking cares if she passes out,” Beckett replies, shoving his way back into Celeste’s mouth. “It’s not going to matter in a few minutes anyway.”
When he pulls off again, Celeste sputters. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Shut the fuck up, you dumb bitch.” Beckett grabs her head with both hands, forcing his cock between her lips. The other two people continue their own ministrations, thrusting from below and behind, and something unsettling spasms in my gut. “You literally asked to be a part of this.”
