Chapter 9 THE HORSEMEN.
SLOANE'S POINT OF VIEW.
A few weeks after that day, I got to truly know what it meant to fully play the role of Lucien's girlfriend. People stopped being so mean to me, or at least a few of them did; some wanted to be my friend, and the other two scholarship kids in this school decided I was no longer a wallflower.
It had been overwhelming to say the least, but for some reason, I preferred this to the long years of being bullied by the school's elite students.
I walked down the halls after statistics class and made my way to the cafeteria, but I stopped at my locker so I could drop my books.
By this time, the lunch bell had rung, and my locker felt like the safest place in the school. Too bad Lucien Ravenscroft doesn’t care about safety.
“Move,” he says to a guy beside me, and steps into my space as it belongs to him.
And, technically, he does. Everything in the school would eventually belong to him, that was if it didn't already belong to him. We were finally instructed to treat the only child of Eldric Ravenscroft like our president.
I don’t move as I include the coordinates of my locker and place my books neatly inside it.
From the corner of my eye, I could see him smirk. His smirk felt like an invitation from the devil to dinner. “You’re sitting with me today.” He said, stilling me as I paused with pulling my hair into a high bun.
The words dropped in my heart with the force of a guillotine.
The hallway is still packed enough for people to hear. The whispering starts before I can even shut my locker.
Is she really with him?
Yes, she’s with him. Did you hear the photo’s real? The one at the boutique, we both know Ravenscroft doesn't take just any girl shopping. He never even took Roxanne while they were together. But he took her to the actual one owned by his mother before her passing.
Of course, it’s real—she probably begged him for it.
I tried not to focus on their comments, and instead gritted my teeth as I said, "No."
It was one word, a word every other sane person would follow; but I'd quickly learned that Lucien was far from sane the day he snuck into my bedroom by climbing up the wall and through the balcony on the side.
IN THE DEAD OF FUCKING NIGHT, WHILE I TRIED TO SLEEP!
Why, you may ask?
He said it was because I didn't reply to his text on Instagram about my new uniform.
He'd instructed the headmaster to get me a new uniform.
When I'd asked him why he did that, he simply shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject.
“Yes,” he crouches to my height, and counters, his voice felt like silk-wrapped steel. His fingers curled around my wrist; not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind me this is not up for negotiation. “They're looking at you because they think you're hiding. I must prove them wrong about that."
The rumor still felt like a fresh wound.
Roxanne’s latest masterpiece: a blurry, grainy shot of me in Lucien’s lap, paired with a chat log that makes it sound like I’m selling myself for tuition. The image was fake, but as usual, the truth never mattered at Ravenscroft; only rumors and lies did.
He starts walking while pulling me along with him.
I start walking, too, because my survival instinct works better than my pride.
"I'm not even supposed to be in that part of school. You eat at the elite cafeteria designed for you alone, and my place is down here with the less elite folks. I could get in trouble." I said. It was true. In the school handbook, there was a full wing of the school designed for him alone, and no one else was allowed to set foot in there for any reason whatsoever.
He stopped in his tracks and turned to me. "No one is allowed on there, except anyone I choose to invite up, and I just invited you. That is the first lesson." He said as he walked closer to me.
Instinctively, I moved back as he advanced on me.
"What's the second?" I asked, and for some reason, my voice was soft and low.
"The second," He said as he took another step. "Don't you dare say you do not belong somewhere as long as you're around me." He said, and like a fool, I'd hit my back against a locker.
Fuck.
I'd been cornered with nowhere to run.
He smirked as he closed the gap between us, "My final lesson." He lifted my hands to my head with one hand and placed the other around my waist as he fanned my face with his warm breath, which made my skin feel tingly at our proximity.
"The third lesson is never think your place is beneath anyone. If I catch you with these thoughts ever again... you want to know what'll happen?"
I nodded, for fear that a whimper would come out of my mouth instead of words.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as I took in his cologne. It was strong, dominating, and passionate.
Exactly like him.
"You will get eaten." He whispered, and took my earlobe into his mouth, and tugged on it slowly.
In that moment, I could feel my panties dampen, as my knees shook with a pressure I'd never felt before. I swallowed nervously as I tried to rein in my breathing.
A few seconds later, he pulled back like nothing happened, removing me from his closeness and the smell of his cologne.
He looked to his side and said, "They're gone."
Blinking at him, I looked at the spot he had his gaze directed at, but I couldn't see anyone.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"Roxanne and Matt. They were right there a few minutes ago." He replied.
Oh, that was why he did that. A strange feeling crawled its way up my heart as I stared at him.
I could recognize what it was.
Disappointment.
For some reason, I'd wanted that moment to be real, and not a way to spite our enemies.
He turned to me after a few seconds and said with his signature smirk, "Shall we?"
I nodded with a nervous smile and placed my hand in his, allowing me to pull me along with him to the floor of the school I had never crossed before.
A few elevator rides after, and me trying my hardest not to gawk at the difference between this floor and the one I school on, the cafeteria doors swing open and the air shifts as heads turn.
Four major heads that I notice, to be exact.
There were barely ten tables in the huge cafeteria, but there were tables lined with different meals fit for the elite.
Lucien doesn’t slow down to entertain the whispers from some of the girls seated at some of the tables, nor does he look left or right. Rather, he walks me straight through the gauntlet of stares to the far center table draped in purple linen lined with golden threads—the Horsemen’s table.
Every elite clique in school knew the Horsemen. Not just Lucien, but his inner circle:
They were four in number;
Theo Vance — golden boy smile, green eyes sharp enough to make you wish you could pluck them out and place them inside your sockets. He’s lounging back with his feet on the bench while he pretends to scroll his phone, but is tracking everything. He's known as death in their ranks and on the hockey field.
Cassian Ward — the tall, broad, with a perpetual scowl. He looks like he wrestled a lion for breakfast and won. He was known as the arrow on the hockey field.
Kai Mercer — he was the guy with dark eyes and a lazy grin, the kind of boy who could flirt with you while picking your pocket. He was known as the storm, because you'd be wrecked by the time he was done with you.
Killian Lemaire— He was the son of the richest models in the world. His parents also owned a modeling company, which explained his figure and the way he was usually dressed, like he just stepped off a runway. He was there, tapping his pen against a closed notebook, analyzing me like a problem he’s already solved. He was the brains of their group, which earned him the nickname on the hockey field.
And Lucien?
Lucien was known as Blood.