Page 32 of Rogue’s Promise

“I love this song,” Meg murmurs to herself. I’m not even moving, simply allowing her to grind against me whilst I frown at my body’s reaction. Surely a few drinks won’t cause me to loosen so easily? Slowly, dully, I conclude that this is it. This is what Everest can’t escape, an innate draw that doesn’t make any sense.

Slurred lyrics tumble from her mouth, her hips rolling in loose circles that drag a breath from me before I can bury it. Whatever is taking over me, I can’t stop it, not that I’m really trying to. My fingers brush the edge of her bralette, goosebumps rising beneath my touch. She reaches for her hair, and I catch her arm, drawing it back and winding it around my neck. Even Laura’s eye catches mine across the room, and I quickly look away. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing either, but as nails scrape lightly at my nape, I forget my own name.

Fuck. I’m a goner. My mouth finds her neck, a brief, single press of my lips against her pulse, and the sound that escapes her goes straight through me. My body answers with a roll of my hips against her, and the rest of the room disappears. All I can see is Meg’s shining brunette hair and huge blue eyes, the complacent smile on her full lips, the shifting of her body against mine. Turning her head, with her mouth close enough for her breath to skim my cheek, Meg’s long lashes flutter.

“Meet me upstairs in five minutes?” she mumbles. I completely go still. She wants me? The asshole next door who doesn’t let her sleep or shower? The guy who draws the worst versions of her, laying bare the suffering she’s trying to hide. My grey eyes meet her blue ones, hers hazed and unfocused. I come back down to earth with a solid thud. She isn’t inviting me upstairs of her own will, but because she’s drugged. She’s pliant and impressionable.

Keeping my face impassive, I give her a single nod. This is for the best. Steering Meg away from Laura and finding her a safe place to lie down and sleep it off will play perfectly into the plan I’m rapidly losing faith in. Meg slips away, and I watch her disappear into the crowd with sickening clarity. What the fuck am I doing? Who the hell have I become, a twisted version of Nicholas who uses people as pawns?

Bile rises in my throat, and I hang my head. The music around me blurs, each beat pressing against the inside of my skull and dragging me closer to a line I thought I’d already crossed. Meg’s warmth still lingers on my palms, her rosewater scent still filling my senses, which I’m quickly coming to. I’ve utterly lost my way. I’ve lost the last scraps of myself in order to convince Everest that I’m still worth loving.

Slowly, the sinking sadness I’ve been shoving aside settles deep in my chest. Glancing at Laura, still laughing by the beer pong table and glowing beneath the borrowed attention, I decide to leave her there for now. First, I’ll see to it that Meg is safe, tucked away until morning. Then I’ll tell Laura the deal’s off. She can keep the money, then choose to leave Hollowbrook or stay and fail spectacularly, I don’t care anymore.

Pushing away from the island, my boots hit the stairs, weaving around laughing freshmen and couples tangled against the banister. I shove past a guy blocking the landing and ignore his complaint, scanning the hallway for dark hair and the flash of her tank top beneath the party lights.

She isn’t in the first few rooms I check, or in the bathroom where three girls shriek at me to get out. She isn’t slumped beside the window or leaning over the railing, hurling her guts up. Slowly, as I begin to run out of viable options, dread starts to expand my chest. I check another door, then another, until I reach the quiet end of the hallway where Everest’s office sits away from the main house. The door is ajar, and my hands turn into fists.

Of course. Of fucking course. Pushing the door open, my eyes land on his green ones within an instant. Holding his hands up, Everest stands from behind his desk, his balance wavering slightly.

“I didn’t do anything,” he confesses before I get a chance to accuse him of anything, then reaches for his whiskey glass. The amber liquid sloshes over the rim before the glass touches his lips, his gaze sliding to the leather sofa between his bookcases. Meg is there, passed out with one arm tucked beneath her cheek, her knees drawn toward her body.

“She came here,” I mutter, steadily seething. I don’t know why I’m even surprised. This was never about me, I was just a distraction, as I always am.

“That’s not on me,” Everest remains drunkenly defensive. I snort, shaking my head at my own stupidity.

“But she did it anyway. She invited me upstairs, and then came in search of you.”

“Wait…she did what?” Everest chokes on his drink, stumbling towards the corner of his desk to frown at her, but I’m not paying attention to him. Meg’s lashes rest against her flushed cheeks, her lips parted with slow, heavy breaths. She’s completely oblivious to the collision of jealousy and guilt she’s caused. To how I’m standing here, gripping the doorframe, and regretting every second in which I gave her the benefit of the doubt.

I was going to save her. I was going to tuck her into bed and walk away from the vendetta I’ve created against her. But Meg didn’t care for my good intentions. She didn’t choose me. Instead, she came to find Everest. To the place where she knew he’d be waiting. If it weren’t for the sedative in her system, maybe I would have walked into a repeat of two years ago. That first time Everest gave in to his fascination and got a real taste of her. That night nearly broke us, and despite his promises, here we are again.

“She’s asleep, Code. That’s all,” Everest tries to make his way over to me, but the Persian rug between us is akin to a minefield. He’s too drunk to put a foot in front of the other, and I’m spiraling, my thoughts turning barbed to attack, stab, and wound. Even drugged, even dizzy, even half out of her mind, Meg knew exactly who she craved. Everest. My Everest.

The thought is ugly, possessive, and childish, but it digs its claws in anyway, ripping through every fragile scrap of reason I had left. He isn’t mine, not really. Not in any way that counts. Not in photographs, not at panels, not in front of the jocks chanting his name downstairs. I get locked doors, fake names, and hands that reach for me only when no one else is watching.

Meg gets the red dress, the spotlight, the instinctive pull of his body even when her mind is too clouded to make a choice. She gets everything, while I stand on the threshold of his office like a shadow who doesn’t have permission to matter.

“She’s always going to come between us,” I sigh, my voice detached as if the words are coming from somewhere deep down in my soul.

“No, she isn’t.” Everest’s mouth draws tight. A laugh slips out of me, harsh enough to make him flinch.

“Look around, Everest. Look where we are right now.” His gaze flicks to Meg, hesitating to reply. There’s nothing he can say that I haven’t heard before, the lies he tells himself that neither of us believes. Stepping back from the doorway, more than just my body withdraws.

“Cody—” Everest tries to follow, but he’s unable to release the desk and remain upright for more than a few seconds. I almost pity him, slowing my retreat as his mouth opens again. Despite hearing it all before, I stall anyway. “You need to take her with you. Take her home.” A scoff escapes my throat, and my eyes roll at myself. Taking another step back, leaving the office door wide open, I let Everest sit with the mess he created by entertaining the crush he should have dealt with all those years ago.

“What’s wrong, Everest? Don’t you trust yourself?” I raise my brow. His mouth shuts, pain flashing across his face, but he doesn’t deny it. Everest can paint a prettier picture than I can, trying to fix Meg’s reputation while he continues to keep me hidden as his dirty little secret. Not anymore. Laura is still downstairs, smiling for the cameras and doing her part. It’s time I played mine.

Chapter Seventeen

My phone begins vibrating against my bedside table before the sun has fully risen beyond the curtains. My skull pounds hard enough to make the room tilt as I reach out blindly and squint at the name lighting up the screen. Groaning, I toss the phone back down again. Not now. Not while my throat is dry, my tongue too heavy in my mouth, and the memories of last night are slowly trickling in.

I did my best to avoid the party, drinking myself into oblivion. By the time I started on the whiskey, there was already an empty vodka bottle hidden within the desk drawer. I was completely fucked, and that was before Meg stumbled into my office. She grinned at me like the freaking Cheshire cat, before staggering inside and collapsing on the sofa where she promptly passed out.

I almost managed to convince myself she was an illusion until Cody showed up. My own mind wouldn’t conjure the rejection and jealousy in his gray eyes. In fact, it would have conjured a different scenario entirely, one that played out in my head long after Meg had been removed from the vicinity.

Everything protective and possessive in me, or wherever those lines blur, was determined to see her home safely myself, but I couldn’t make it further than dragging her against my chest and collapsing on the floor. Holding her there, her cheek pressed against my collarbone, her body too limp and trusting, I simply studied her face until Mitchell found us heaped on the floor.

Fishing around in her pocket, I handed him both Meg’s keys and Meg herself with a lengthy death threat. Get her home, take her shoes off, cover her with a blanket and leave, in that specific order, if he wishes to see another day. Keen to get back in my good graces after his trunk stunt, Mitchell obeyed immediately, and that’s the last I remember.