Page 43 of Riot House
I know it from somewhere, but I just can’t think where…
A soft creak disturbs the hush, the sudden, weighty silence of a presence at my back. My skin prickles, each small hair on my arms and down the back of my neck bristling under the force of another consciousness entering the room.
Ohhhhh fuck.
“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming…”a hushed voice murmurs. A voice of silk and honey and the rough edge of a blunt blade. It stabs into me with a tender sweetness that fills me with fear.“Dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before. But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token…and the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
Slowly, I straighten, taking a step back from the desk.
“Poe,” the voice states behind me. “A little over done these days, given his recent hipster rise to fame, but I’ve been a fan of ‘The Raven’ for a long time.”
With all the care in the world, I turn around, and there, standing at the foot of his bed, is Wren. After only seeing him in his tatty black tee and his jeans for so long, I’m staggered by the sight of him in a suit and tie. The cut of the blazer is exquisite. The pants are perfectly tailored, too. He looks nothing short of incredible, but it isn’t his clothes that have stolen my ability to form words. It’s just…it’shim. His jet hair, and the way it curls around the tops of his ears. The purse of his full lips, and the casual, amused upward tilt of his mouth. The faintest hint of stubble at his jaw, and the sharp, assessing eyes that bore into me like lasers from the other side of the room.
Oh, how I hate that I love to look at this boy.
He slips his hands into the pockets of his suit pants like he hasn’t got a care in the world. “Got a favorite, Stillwater?” he purrs.
“What?” My voice cracks on the word.
“Poet.” Wren smiles softly, then looks around the room, as if he’s suddenly remembered he came in here looking for something but can’t recall for the life of him what it was. He goes to the bookcase, running his fingers along the spines. “Good poets bleed their pain out in their words. They capture the desolation and the hopelessness of life and transcribe it to paper in a way that makes you feel like your throat’s just been cut. It’s visceral. All troubled souls have a favorite poet.”
What the fuck is happening right now? Why the hell is he going on about poets and not quizzing me over the fact that he’s just busted me in his room? I have to get out of here. Immediately. “Who says I’m a troubled soul?”
Wren glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “Like recognizes like, Elodie. You and I…we share many commonalities.”
“No, we donot.” I deny it with a little more passion than intended. “We’re nothing alike. I’d never hurt someone until they agreed to steal someone’s phone for me.”
Wren taps his finger along the shelf as he walks from one end slowly to the other. His eyes glint with amusement, a small flash of his teeth visible as he parts his lips. “I’m sure there are plenty of things you’d lower yourself to if you wanted something bad enough.”
“You’re sick, Jacobi. Where…oh my god,where the hell’s Carina?”I didn’t hear her panicking downstairs. She didn’t shout that someone was coming. She’s been silent since she last called for me. “You’d better not have fucking hurt her, Wren,” I snap, hurtling toward the door.
He doesn’t try to stop me. Laughing softly, he pulls a book from the shelf, running his hand over the cover with a gentle reverence. “I didn’t touch her. Don’t panic. I might use force on misbehaving nerds from time to time…but I don’t hurt girls.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, his eyes fixed on the book in his hands—from my position by the door, his face is lit by the moonlight pouring in through the windows, highlighting the obsidian coloring of his long eyelashes against the stark paleness of his skin. “She’s still downstairs, waiting by the front door. I came around the back.”
I stare him down, looking for the lie.
Wren shrugs. “Stick your head over the bannister and take a look. You’ll find her right where you left her, hearty and hale, doing a really shit job of keeping lookout.”
I won’t take him at his word. I back out of the room, my body awash with adrenalin, railing against the voice in my head that’s screaming at me to run. When I lean over the handrail and look down to the first floor, I see Carina hopping nervously from one foot to the other, standing by the open front door, scanning the night for the guy who’s already snuck his way into the house.
“You can tell her to go back to the academy if you like,” Wren mutters. He’s leafing through the pages of his book now, his eyes roving quickly over the pages. How can he just stand there so nonchalantly? How can he not show the slightest signs of remorse for what he’s done? He’s taken my private property, planned on doing god knows what with it, and now he’s just standing there, calm as you like, suggesting that I send my friend away and stay here with him? The guy is out of his fucking mind.
“Why the hell would I dothat?” I hiss. “You could skin me alive and wear my fucking head as a hat if she leaves me here with you.”
“Ha!” Wren throws his head back and laughs, just once, snapping the book closed in his hands. The tendons and muscles in his throat work as he swallows.
“Elodie! Was that you?” Carina calls out. “Did you hear that?”
I lock eyes with Wren, waiting for him to tell me to keep my mouth shut, but he just shrugs again. He doesn’t care if she knows he’s here, clearly. His wordless confidence is driving me up the fucking wall. “She’ll call the cops, y’know. If you do anything weird,” I warn him.
“I should think so,” he agrees.
“And you don’t care?”
“No. I have nothing to worry about. I’m not gonna do anything to you, Elodie.” That smile spreads, taking up more real estate on his treacherously handsome face. It’d be so satisfying to slap that smug arrogance right off him. I imagine what it’d feel like to do it and my right palm tingles beautifully.
“Elodie! What the hell!” Carina yells.
“I’m coming!” I volley back to her over the handrail. “Just a second!”
