Page 34 of Savage Hate
She whistles. “Fuck. What a prick.” Turning to look at me, she smiles. “You seem okay, though, right?”
I smile. “Yeah. He was bad in bed.”
We both laugh as she turns down one of the residential streets, and I immediately recognize the stately house before us. Silas Huxley’s house was notorious growing up, and a small part of me is eager to see what all the fuss is about. I’d heard rumors of a prison cell in one of the closets, a basement chapel, and that his parents made everyone who entered the house take communion. He was never allowed to attend birthday parties, and we certainly never came here growing up, either.
The house is made of dark wood, and the curved driveway is empty. There are no lights on, and a shiver works down my spine as Lola parks in front of the large door with iron fixtures. It looks more like a church than a house, and I climb out as Lola swears under her breath.
“I swear to God, this place is haunted as fuck.”
I don’t say anything as we walk up to the door, and she pushes it open. “What happened to his parents?” I ask, looking around.
“They got wrapped up in some freaky cult, completely lost it, and went totally mad. They’re locked up somewhere, and Silas inherited the house because they’re unfit to even make the mortgage payments.” She cocks her head and narrows her eyes at me. “Between you and me, there’s a lot of other shit that happened, but I won’t get into it now.”
My blood cools as we make our way through the dark house. “Doesn’t seem like anyone is here.”
She chuckles. “They’re down in the chapel, most likely.”
I stop walking, ignoring the walls of crosses and black furniture. “So it’s true? Thereisa chapel in the basement?”
She smirks. “Hell yeah. Come on, let’s go.”
She leads me to the kitchen, and from there, opens a door I wouldn’t have even known existed. Voices float up to us, and I follow her down a narrow, curved stairway, gawking as we enter a small, cavernous…chapel.Wood-paneled walls, a few rows of pews, and a legitimate altar at the front of the room. My eyes snap to the people seated in the pews drinking beer–a few guys and girls I don’t know, along with Silas, Damon, and Jude, who are all watching me as I walk farther into the dimly-lit basement.
My skin tingles as I wave and smile. “Hi,” I say shyly.
“I’m fucking starving,” Lola whines, setting her purse down. “Can I grab something to eat?”
Silas waves her off and smiles as she goes, and I look between the three of them. Jude is the first to speak.
“We didn’t think you’d show.”
I stand up taller. “I expected a crowded party,” I huff, shrugging. “I thought perhaps I could disappear into anonymity if it sucked.” A few people laugh, and Damon chokes on his beer. “This is like a high school sleepover,” I tease with a smirk.
“The real party hasn’t started,” Silas explains, leaning back against a pew. “You tell me if it feels like a sleepover once it starts.”
I nod, shifting my weight from one hip to the other. “Where’s the beer?” I ask, and before anyone can answer, Damon hops up.
“Come on. I’ll grab a beer for everyone,” he says, looking at Silas and Jude.
I walk up the stairs ahead of him, very aware of the fact that his face is at ass-level. I almost say something about it, but he walks past me to the fridge when we get to the kitchen. Lola is hovering over the island, inhaling what looks like a burrito.
“Sure thing, Lo. Help yourself.” He places a hand on her back as he passes her. His tone is teasing, but it’s full of warmth.
“I can’t wait for the day you have a toddler, Brooks. You just wait. You eat, sleep, shit, and fuck whenever and wherever you get an opportunity, okay?”
He laughs, and I smile. Grabbing four beers in one hand, he closes the fridge and turns to me, handing me one of them and gesturing to the bottle opener laying on the island.
I take all four beers and open them, and when I look up, he’s watching me with a darkened expression.
“What?” I ask, acutely aware of the fact that Lola must’ve gone downstairs because she’s no longer in the kitchen.
His eyes unabashedly rove down my body and back up, and he gives me an appreciative smile.
“Nothing, princess. You just look really fucking hot tonight.” My stomach bottoms out at his words, and I can’t help but admire the way he looks, too. Black trousers, a green and blue flannel shirt, and his dark brown eyes and dark lashes contrast against the bright kitchen light. He lowers his head a bit as he takes three of the beers from me, and his fingers brush mine briefly as I hand them back. “I’m still getting used to the idea of being attracted to Lennon Rose.”
“Thanks, I think,” I joke, taking a sip of beer and avoiding eye contact.
“Why do you do that?” Damon asks, his voice softer.
