The lies we tell

TWELVE

My hands were shaking with rage.

Deep breaths.

Okay, maybe I was overreacting, but it was my mother’s house. I wasn’t expecting to see anything out of the ordinary, as far as the party went. I assumed it would be a bunch of rich people, standing around drinking or whatever.

Peering through the small opening, I could make out a huge darkened room, heavy curtains covering the windows. A few dim lamps were scattered around, providing the only sources of light. In the near corner to my right stood a large roulette table, people surrounding it, laughing, watching as the wheel decided their fortune. Well, probably not their fortune, going by the wealth that practically oozed from their pores, but it decided whether they were lucky or not.

Straight ahead, off to my left, there was a giant TV screen, with another smaller screen next to it that looked like some kind of betting scoreboard with lists of names and odds next to each name. A large group of people—mostly men—gathered around the screens, shouting and cheering.

It was what was on the larger screen that made my blood boil, my heart pounding, fury and nausea filling me. I could see two dogs fighting in some kind of pit, snarling and snapping at each other, foaming at the mouths. I watched as one of the dogs grabbed the throat of the other and began to shake it in its jaws, red blossoming on the fur. The other dog desperately tried to get away, scrabbling on the dirt floor, but it was no use. It let out a horrible high-pitched whimpering screech that was abruptly cut off. Its struggles died away, until… I couldn’t watch anymore. Bile rose in my throat, and I stood for a moment, clenching my jaw, struggling to contain my emotions.

Anything to do with animals fighting, animal cruelty, basically any kind of animals struggling, and I was raging. The jeers and laughter from the spectators in the room only fuelled my anger.

A memory flashed through my mind, long buried, repressed and forgotten until that moment. My father, buying me a puppy for my fourth birthday. My mother, screaming at him for being irresponsible, that dogs were a waste of space, the argument raging on and on. My poor puppy quivering in fear, until I’d scooped her up, and we’d both hidden in the laundry room, huddled in a corner against the dryer. The next morning, coming downstairs to find the front door wide open and no sign of my puppy. Ru

Fuck. I swallowed hard, pushing the memory away and coming back to the present, to the people taking joy in the torment of these animals.

I had to do something. Anything.

Reaching out my hand, I hesitated, then took a step forwards, ready to throw open the door.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

I whirled around to find the speaker leaning casually against the wall, one eyebrow raised. He looked so much like an older version of Zayde, I immediately guessed who he was. I temporarily forgot what I was so angry about as I took him in.

“Zayde’s dad?”

“Michael Lowry, at your service.” He bowed exaggeratedly, his dark eyes twinkling at me, and I laughed, surprised. How different could he be from his son?

“Winter Huntington. Lovely to meet you.”

“Enchanté.” He took my hand and kissed it, a smile on his handsome face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. As he lowered it, he stepped a little closer, dropping his voice.

“Whatever you were thinking, don’t.”

“I-I just…I,” I stammered.

“Let me guess. The dogs?” He sighed heavily, a sympathetic twist to his mouth.

I nodded, my fists clenching.

“Listen. There are some things in this world you need to turn a blind eye to. Believe me, you don’t want to be meddling with those people. It could get you into serious trouble.”

“But—”

“There’s nothing that can be done. Those dogs were bred for violence. Besides that, they’re at a protected location, so you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, other than cause a scene. Should it be happening? No, but it is what it is. Do not, under any circumstances, do anything to put yourself on the radar of the people here. You don’t want to get on their bad side. Trust me.”

The warning in both his tone and his eyes gave me pause. What could I do, really? He was right—I’d just be causing a scene if I said anything, and it would all be for nothing.

“I guess you’re right,” I whispered, defeated.

“Chin up. Why don’t you go and find your friends? Last I saw of them, they were in the study.” He pointed down the hallway to another door off to the left.

“Okay. Thanks.” I gave him a small smile, and he winked at me, then walked around me into the room I’d been peering into and closed the door behind him.

I headed down the corridor, still upset and angry. Fuck staying sober for the night. I needed a drink.

Bursting through the door that Zayde’s dad had indicated, I came to a sudden stop, almost ru

“What’s the matter with him?” I asked myself, making a beeline for the crystal decanter standing on a polished walnut sideboard straight in front of me. Yanking out the stopper, I poured a generous measure into one of the glasses on the silver tray next to the decanter. I threw the drink down my throat, gasping at the burn and shuddering at the taste. Whiskey. Ugh.

I poured another. And downed it.

As the fire warmed me from within, I turned around to survey my surroundings. Through a haze of smoke, I saw Cassius reclining on a brown leather chesterfield sofa, a bottle of clear liquid dangling from his hand. He watched me with a mixture of amusement and concern. A beautiful brunette sat on the arm of the sofa next to him, and his hand lazily trailed up and down her thigh. Directly opposite him on an identical sofa was Caiden, glaring at me. A-fucking-gain.

My blood was boiling, I was all riled up from the dog fighting, and the alcohol was kicking in. I wanted to pick a fight.

I stormed over to Caiden, ripping the joint from his mouth and taking a deep drag, then throwing it into the ashtray on the side table next to the sofa. “What exactly is your fucking problem?” I stood right in front of him, hands on my hips, glaring right back at him.

He blinked slowly. “What the fuck? Did you just take my joint?”

Ignoring his question, I stepped closer, leaning down and prodding a finger into his hard chest, so angry I wasn’t thinking straight.

I was sick of this. Sick of his hostility towards me; the way he treated me 90 percent of the time; the way he clearly thought I was beneath him.

I directed all of my wrath at him as our eyes met, and his darkened, his brows pulling together. “What. Is. Your. Pro—”

His arms shot out, and he yanked me onto his lap. Before I could process what the actual fuck was happening, I was straddling him, he had one arm tightly around my back, the other gripping the back of my head, and his lips were on mine, hard and furious.

It was like fireworks.

Explosions of sensation that I felt all over my body as his mouth attacked mine. I kissed him back just as savagely, cha