Page 50 of Among the Screaming Trees

“And the other one?”

She chews on her bottom lip. Luk flashes me a look, and I understand what he’s experiencing. Me too, dude. My cock is swelling as her teeth manipulate the flesh, tugging it backward only to release it again. Seeing her mouth perform even baser acts is carnal.

“I know it’s a lily, and I’m narrowing the exact one down, but I need to be careful about this one, because”—she leans in to whisper—“where I’m at right now, I must have made a mistake somewhere.”

Luk and I study her. She knows her stuff. Her knowledge would surpass that of some of the first-year lecturers. For her to doubt herself, this must be complex.

“You’re not supposed to seek faculty help about an identification unless you’ve exhausted all other options, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. What’s up?” His brow pinches. She knows his knapweed and my willow, but not that they were our gifts. She’s on the right track.

“I went through reference photographs of all the yellow lilies with red and pinkish-red banding on the outer petals. Some I discounted early because the additional colors were in the throat, not the edges. I’m down to around three or four, and I’m conflicted.”

“Conflicted how, baby? What’s got you so stressed out? Come back to ours, let’s get you naked and in the shower with us. A little hydrotherapy to soothe those tight muscles?"

“Lukaz. Do you want to be the one to tell Jack or Elijah why I’m not at the designated pickup location? Because while the doctor is easygoing, I can’t say the same about the prof. That man has mercury running through his veins.”

I slap his shoulder. He knows the professor would lose his shit if she came back to ours. The more I shake my head at him, the more he grins at me with that “What?” face.

“Alright. Fuck. I just, we… I mean. Want to see you outside of classes, baby. I’ve forgotten what you look like naked.”

“Idiot,” she scoffs, and I assume she’s only partly joking. I pat her shoulder and bring her eyes back to mine, before winding my hand forward from my chin. Aspen was speaking before Lukaz distracted her with his needy bullshit. I want her too, but not by acting like a hormonal fourteen-year-old about it.

“Lilies,” I mouth.

“The one I keep returning to, it just can’t be. I emailed a cultivar magazine for confirmation, but I haven’t heard back yet. Fox, can I ask you a question?”

Sure, she can. It wasn’t my lily.

“The Larch is only for students, right? Because I’m being led in a direction that points me to the lily being a gift from…” She turns her head side to side, checking over her shoulder and even up to the security cameras. “A teacher!”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lukaz

OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR

Fox’s truck ambles up the mountain like a sloth through peanut butter. Every gear shift saps momentum, making me believe we might roll all the way back down the hill at one point, or slide right off it. This beater cost him five-hundred bucks, and I swear he got ripped off.

“Doesn’t it go any faster? My grandmother could overtake this piece of shit, and she uses a walking frame!”

His middle finger greets me, along with a sour look that radiates, “You can always walk, asshole.” That’s just the thing; we can’t walk because Wyldan’s fucking mansion is on top of the mountain surrounded by woods and overlooks the town bearing his family legacy. Walking up here after dark would be a suicide mission, and I’m nowhere near my expiration date.

The house comes into view beyond the final bend, and by view, I mean it is silhouetted against the first ink of night, with the trees standing sentry. We pull up at a security gate, Fox winding down his window because, yeah, this heap of shit is that old. I lean over him, ready to answer a voice through the speaker, but there isn’t one.

“Press the button,” I urge him, and his arm reaches out to depress a button next to the speaker. It crackles to life before the professor’s voice slithers through the still air like an eel. “What?”

“Open the gate, Professor. Me and Fox are here for a visit.”

“Who is this?”

“Come on, man, don’t be a dick. It’s Luk and Fox. Open up.”

“What the fuck are you driving?” he spits back. Not a “Sure thing, fellas, come on in.” Nope, it’s all about who has money and privilege, and who doesn’t. Fox raises his finger at the speaker, making me chuckle.

“Fox’s truck. Which is irrelevant. Open the fucking gate before we drive through it.” I lean back on the pleather bench seat because, again, it’s that old. Fox calls it a classic, I call it caca. The gate jolts backward, the mechanism pulling it open and revealing the road beyond. We’re coming, beautiful, and soon you will be too.

Fox pulls up next to the garage, where I’m sure Wyldan has a host of fancy vehicles. He also technically has Aspen, so we’ve come in peace… for now. The porch lights spread a warm glow over the gravel drive and stone facade. It’s a nice house; I’ll give him that. Not one of those ugly money houses where everything looks gaudy as fuck because it was a competition to see how much money they could shred putting everything onto it, or into it. No, this is restrained wealth, a bit of a fuck you here with the stone, and a middle finger there with the views I just know there will be from the other side. As we wound our way up the mountain, the blinking lights of Wyldan town winked at us as we ascended, tiny glowing reminders of town life lit by streetlamps and traffic lights. The front door has another intercom, and Fox salutes that, too. I can’t figure out why he’s so on edge; he spent most of today with her. But Aspen is like a drug, and we’re craving our next fix. If Wyldan doesn’t tug this oversized door open in the next two seconds, Fox will kick it in.