Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals!

Chapter 61: 61. Rebel II

Maisie

Lyon and I skipped school after he kissed me.

I was well aware of how far I’d fallen, because Maisie Adams would never have decided to skip school on purpose. Maisie Adams also wouldn’t let her best friend’s brother kiss her breathless against the library shelves. Neither would she have hopped on the back of his superbike without a helmet and let him take her across town, going far beyond the Night Shade territory.

Worse yet, Maisie Adeline Adams, would never have gone to a club.

But I was feeling lethargic.

Something in me was rebelling, and it decided the burn of alcohol and the heavy thumping of the bass in the air was just what it needed to fuel that feeling.

”Get down from there, Mace. Fuck,” Lyon groaned as I unzipped my jacket and threw it at the crowd of writhing bodies below the table. ”I only looked away for one bloody second.”

He looked agitated.

I found that hilarious. He did bring me here, after all.

Okay, well, admittedly, before he’d disappeared up the staircases behind the club, he’d said, ”I’ll be back in five minutes. I’ve got business to attend. Stay here with Ted, okay? And don’t accept any drinks from anyone.”

He’d been gone longer than five minutes. And I’d watched the hot blonde who came to grab a drink by the bar I was seated drop a pill into her drink.

”What’s that?” I’d asked curiously.

Her lips curved and I watched her eyes grow glossy. ”Never heard of Samantha, sweetie? It’s like Molly, but multiply by a hundred. Well, it isn’t legal yet, but the good stuff never is.” She held out two pills. ”Take ’em. It’ll shoot you straight to the heavens, I promise.”

I’d glanced at the drugs warily. I didn’t know what or who Molly or Samantha was, but drugs at a strip club was definitely not a good idea.

”No, thank you,” I had told her politely.

”You look parched,” she had responded. ”Park didn’t get you something to drink?”

I blinked in surprise. ”You know Lyon?”

She smiled. ”Sure. He’s a dear friend.” She waved at the bartender and I couldn’t help but relax a little. ”Is soda alright? They usually don’t serve those here, but I’m sure Ted could mix you something a little more... PG13.”

I flushed, but she laughed softly and bumped my shoulder. ”I’m kidding.”

I’d taken one tiny gulp of the soda—not to be disrespectful to the woman—and ten minutes later, I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

Ten minutes later, I’d displaced the half naked stripper and was dangling off the pole, driving the crowd insane.

I’d never felt anything so thrilling in my whole life. There was liquid fire in my blood as I hooked my leg around the pole, marveling at the suppleness of my own body as I bent over backward, hair sweeping the floor of the table.

My breasts pushed against my tank top and the crowd went wild, men and women alike clamoring for more skin.

”Five hundred if you lose the pants!” a man yelled.

There were no clients at the other stripping poles. I was the show. The sensation. And I wasn’t even naked.

This was where I belonged, I thought. I didn’t need to ever return home. I wanted to remain desired. I wanted to feel anything except the jealousy and despair that had been eating at me alive for days. I just wanted to feel wanted.

I was hot. You know, maybe I should lose the pants.

”Do not take off your fucking pants, Mace,” Lyon snarled. ”Get down. Right now.”

I straddled the pole. Humped it. Drove my fingers into my hair and rocked my hips in tandem to the music. I spun around, my hair whipping about my face, and then I climbed down onto all fours, crawling to the edge of the stage.

”Sweet mother of god,” I heard another man say. ”I’ll pay ten grand to see your perky tits, sweet cherry.”

My mouth popped open on a fascinated gasp. ”Really?”

Lyon turned point blank and punched him in the face.

I gasped again and then, started giggling.

Lyon turned an exasperated expression to me, and because I was right at the edge where he was, he had enough reach to yank me off the stage. ”I’m taking you home.”

I heard a roar of complaints behind me.

The owner—some human in a fancy grey suit and purple dye streaks in his hair—pushed his way toward to the front of the crowd.

His eyes crinkled as he handed me his card. ”Come work for me sometime—”

Lyon snarled in his face, smacking the card into the ground. ”Not happening, Barry. Go leech off on someone else. This one’s mine.”

I staggered against Lyon as he led me through the crowd, my vision swimming. I giggled again. ”There’s four of you, Lyon.” We were slowly nearing the door and I swerved. ”I don’t... want to go back.”

”You can barely stand,” he said, circling his arm around my waist to carry me out. His hold was respectful. He was trying so hard not to touch me or look at my cleavage.

I shook off the wave of vertigo that slammed into me. ”Why did you kiss me, Lyon?”

He stilled.

Out chests were pressed together and his eyes were very dark. The bass thumping throughout the club was echoing through our bones and I knew he’d liked my little dance when something hard pressed against my stomach.”

”Because I wanted to.” His gaze searched mine. ”I’ve been wanting to for a long time.”

I sway on the tips of my toes and pressed my mouth to his. His tongue tasted like whiskey.

He was also buzzed. How delightful.

He broke the kiss immediately. ”No. Not when you’re not in your right mind—”

I tugged down on his collar, hard, and brought his face to mine. ”If being wasted is the only time I’m not too much of a coward to make a decision for myself, then I’ll gladly embrace whatever consequences come with.”

When I kissed him again, he didn’t pull away.

He cussed once against my mouth before tightening his arms around me.

My movements were fueled with anger, desperation and intoxication. I kissed him with the fury and frustration I felt when I saw them with her.

Lyon wasn’t Soren, or Jericho. He wasn’t Quinlan or Mercer. He was so different. In height and width. In his gentle intensity.

My hands were in his hair and his hands were on my back, my ass. He groaned into my mouth and squeezed. ”Maisie...”

He was walking us back into a wall... door. I twisted us, so that it was his back against the door and my lips left his, coming to nip and lick his jaw, his tanned throat.

He cussed again, but drew me closer. His touch remained gentle, almost reverent. Like he hadn’t yet decided if I could handle more, even if I felt him pressing hard against me.

My hands trailed down to the buckle of his pants and Lyon hissed, catching my wrist and holding it far away from that bulge. He was breathing hard, his teeth bared at me. ”I’m not going to fuck you, Mace.”

I licked my tingling lips. ”Uh-huh.”

His eyes tracked the movement and he let out a harsh exhale and crushed his mouth to mine again.

The door behind him gave, giving way to a private booth, and he lifted me as he turned, kicking the door shut behind us.

He dropped me on the sleek desk, my back pressing hard to the wall as he stood between my legs. My fingers searched franticallly for his buttons, ripping his shirt in the process.

I thought of the black sheets in Soren’s bedroom as Lyon pulled my top off. I thought of the bruises he left on Tessa skin.

Hatred consumes me. So does lust as remember the obscene curl of his fingers deep inside me.

Lyon’s mouth was hot on my neck, on my chest. His grip was firm on my ass. It felt wrong and I realized he had no callouses. Not like Soren and Jericho.

I shut my eyes, willing their faces to go away. Lyon’s fingers were warm as they traced up my stomach, brushing my hair off my shoulder.

Down my bra strap went and he kissed the skin of my neck softly. So unlike them. Soren and Jericho kissed me like it was their goddess given right to do so.

Stop thinking about them.

My fingers delved into his hair. yet it was wrong. Mercer’s was silkier.

Lyon’s fingers found the buttons of my pants and he halted. ”You deserve better than a quickie in a club.”

I grabbed his fingers, guiding them right where I wanted them so I didn’t have to think about them anymore. ”I don’t care.”

He lifted me off the counter and helped me out of my pants. I fumbled for his, keeping the detail to myself that this was my first time.

I was sure if I told him, he would back up and leave me. And I’d decided somewhere between swallowing the pills and downing a disgusting glass of whiskey that if I was going to let someone touch me, it would be with someone who would never call me a slut. Someone who actually cared.

Lyon groaned as I felt him through his pants, and his hips bucked against my hand. Once. Twice.

I had just begun to undo his belt when the door was knocked down.

And Lyon was yanked off me and hurled out the door like he weighed nothing.

”Lyon!” I cried, heart hammering into my ribcage as glittering green eyes met mine from the doorway, betrayal, hurt and rage shinning in their depths.

How dare he look at me like that? Like I had hurt him? Like it wasn’t the other way around?

My nostrils flared, the anger surging too fast, making me lightheaded. ”What is wrong with you?!”

Mercer’s expression was disturbing. It was dark and ominous and calculating. ”Wait here.”

”Like hell I will—”

The words choked off as Mercer squeezed my neck.

I hadn’t even seen him move.

”Move one inch from that spot, or try to flee again,” he growled gutturally, ”and I’ll deliver his hands to you in a box, pink ribbons and all. Maybe I’ll add his cock to the mix to complete the heart felt package.”

”You hurt him...” I wheezed, tears of rage and frustration running down my face. ”And I’ll never forgive you.”

Mercer leaned in, and I saw that his green eyes weren’t exactly green anymore. There was a darkness whirling in them as he snarled, ”Fuck your forgiveness.”

And then, he was gone.