Deceit (Gallows Hill, #1)

by Katelyn Taylor

In the next moment a noise comes from my left, all of the breath from my lungs being sucked right out as I hear another. “Hello? Is someone there?” I ask, only to be met with silence. The sound of a twig snapping on my right has my head snapping in that direction, but I can’t see anything. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Hello?” I call out again, my voice quaking this time as I begin to spiral into a full-blown panic. Ghosts aren’t real, right? Just because this cemetery is over three-hundred-years-old doesn’t mean that it’s haunted. Even if there were ghosts out here, it’s not like they can materialize enough to snap twigs and actually make noise….right? One more sound comes from just a few feet to the left of me. I practically jump out of my skin as my heart sinks and my voice shouts. In the next moment, a pair of black boots comes into view before two legs crouch down to look at me. My eyes trace over the black clothed man, surprised when I see that it’s Vincent Griggs, staring down at me like I’m an insect he found underneath his boot. “Vincent?” I question, half disbelieving but also half in relief. “Can you help me out? Please?”

Slowly, Vincent’s tattooed hand reaches down into the grave, extending his fingers to me. I hesitate for only a moment or two, before I greedily accept his help, practically scrambling to latch onto his arm as he begins pulling me up. Pushing my feet into the dirt wall I try my best to ease the burden, but it doesn’t seem to be much of a task for him. He practically yanks me up and out of the grave, without so much as a strained muscle.

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I thought I was going to freaking die out here,” I say, the building tears beginning to let loose as I throw my arms around him. He immediately tenses beneath me for a moment or two, before roughly shoving me. I right myself before I fall again, and I look up to see him staring at me, with that same angry look he seems to always have ingrained in his features.

Screw this, I’m out of here. I begin making my way towards my dorm, craving nothing more than a warm shower and my bed. On the negative side, I’m cold, beer soaked and caked with dirt and mud. On the positive side…nope, all negatives. This night sucks.

I’m still locked out of my dorm. When I pass by the pool, I pause. I doubt it’s unlocked, but it’s worth a shot. At least they have showers. Please, please, please. I repeat the word over and over again, hoping and praying the door will give, but all my hopes are dashed in an instant when I pull, only to be met with locked resistance. Damn. I turn on my heel, heading to I don’t even know where, when I hear the door open behind me and a deep voice rasping my name. “Skyla?” My head whips around, locking eyes with a dripping wet Ronan. He’s wearing a t-shirt that is soaking by the second and a pair of grey sweatpants. “Are you okay?” he asks as he leans against the door, keeping it propped open as he does. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He frowns at me. “You’re wet, dirty, and bleeding.”

“What happened?” he asks. I swallow roughly, before I shake my head and let out a bitter laugh. “Asher.” His eyes narrow at me. “Explain.” Turning my head away, I shake my head, too tired and honestly too defeated to get into it right now. I just want this night to be over. He doesn’t seem to accept my silence, holding his gaze on me and seemingly waiting me out. I don’t give in, though and he lets out a rough breath before he stands. “C’mon. You can shower in the locker room.”

“Towels are in there. The door is locked so you don’t have to worry about anyone coming in. Make sure you keep your bandages dry.” “How am I supposed to do that when washing my hair?” I question. He rolls his lips together for several seconds, that signature stoic look on his face. “Do you need me to do it?” A thrill runs through me, the thought of those strong fingers running through my hair. The warm water running against my skin— “Clothed, obviously. Your clothes could use a rinse anyways,” he adds. Disappointment pangs through me, though I don’t know why. It’s not like him washing my hair is going to lead to us sleeping together. He’s not going to strip away my virginity right here and now, nor would I want him to. Right? Right.

He takes a step towards me, squirting a small amount of shampoo into his hands, gesturing for me to turn around. I do as he says, allowing the spray to run down my front as his hands begin lathering my hair. At first, his movements are rough and jerky and I wince as he yanks on my hair. Soon, though, his fingers reach deeper, slowly beginning to massage my scalp. I let out a pleasured groan that has his movements pausing. Damn it. That’s what I get for opening my mouth, I ruin a perfectly good thing. To my surprise, he continues a moment later.

“Rinse,” he rasps roughly. I turn around to face him, keeping my eyes locked on his as I lean my head back under the water. Only a second or two passes before he closes the distance between us, leaning over me as his hands massage my scalp a bit more, rubbing out all the shampoo as he does. I feel his breath against my neck and when he looks from my hair to me, my stomach flips. Without meaning to, I feel my teeth sink into my lower lip, pulling on it slightly. Ronan’s eyes snap down, watching me with rapt attention. I don’t know how long we stay like that before he’s shaking his head and ripping away, like touching me physically burns him. “Go ahead and dry off. I’ll walk you back to your room once you’re dressed,” he says,

“Let’s go.” “I don’t have my key, I left it inside my room.” He nods before moving into his office, grabbing out a key card. “Master key,” he explains. I frown at that. “I’m not sure I like the idea that people have access to my room whenever they want.” “Not people, just me and the dean.” My head tilts to the side at that. “Why you? The dean and the swim coach? Seems like a strange combination.” His jaw tightens as he gives me a look of irritation. “Is that how you say thank you?” “No,” I answer flatly,

I point at it in silent communication and Ronan waves his key card over it, forcing the locking mechanism to whir on command before I push it open. Instead of just walking inside I turn to look at him, so many words, yet none at all resting on the tip of my tongue. He doesn’t wait around for me to say anything, though. Instead, he turns, moving to the elevator before hitting the button once more. His blue eyes turn to mine as he speaks softly, just before the doors open. “Good night.” “Night,” I say, my voice being cut off midway as he steps inside the elevator, the doors shutting right behind him.

I don’t bother turning a light on. Instead, I numbly walk over to my bed, pausing when I see a white rose and a note on my bedside table. I squint at it, my eyes trying to adjust to the darkness with only a stream of moonlight illuminating the room. The note is scribbled in messy handwriting, and I already know exactly who it’s from. Welcome to Gallows Hill.

“Good morning, Father,” I say in my most polite tone. “Your presence is required tonight at Putnam manor.” My mouth pulls into a grimace and my shoulders slump. “Is it really necessary?” I ask, letting it slip out before I can stop it. He is silent for several seconds, either out of shock that I would even slightly question him or in anger and he wants me to squirm in punishment. Either way, I’m on edge when his icy voice rumbles through the phone. “If I say so, then it is. Be there, accompanied by your fiancée at seven o’clock sharp,” he says, ending the phone call immediately after.

Unknown: We have to go to a party at my dad’s house. Wear something nice and stuffy like you normally do and don’t forget the ring.

Due to the time of the event and my inferring of how similarly these people live their lives to my father, I decide a sophisticated dress is the perfect option for tonight. I decided on a black floor-length gown. One sleeve is full-length, ending just at my wrist while the other side is strapless. It does have a thigh slit that goes up to stop a few inches below my hip, but the overall modesty of the top makes it an even balance. That’s what I told myself when I bought it, at least. We will see if my father has a conniption when he sees me in it.

Asshole Fiancé: Outside. Hurry up or I’ll leave you. And they say chivalry is dead.

As soon as I step outside my dorm building, I notice a black Maserati parked in the walkway, literally. He’s parked cockeyed and blocking the main entrance of the building. It’s the type of arrogance that says, I’m too lazy to park in the parking lot and walk like a normal person. When I get closer to the car the door opens, swinging up instead of out. Tucking the long skirt of the dress behind myself, I slide into the leather seat easily before the door comes back down, officially locking me inside. Asher is in the driver’s seat, his brown hair perfectly styled, not a strand of hair out of place while wearing a crisp black Armani suit. He looks like he stepped right out of a magazine and I’m not sure how to feel about it. On one hand, I wish he would be as ugly on the outside as he clearly is on the inside. On the other hand, if I have to marry anyone at least it’s someone who is pleasing to the eye I suppose.

As we speed down the road I scoff to myself, smoothing out my slick bun in the side mirror as he turns at a light. I don’t have time to brace myself and I smash my face against the window before shooting him a lethal glare. “What is your problem?” I ask. “Currently, you,” he snaps curtly, as he sails down the road. “Okay, can we drop the bullshit at least for tonight? Please. I don’t know what your dad is like, but my dad is expecting us to be loving and affectionate towards one another.” “You always do what daddy tells you?” Asher asks, with an unimpressed brow. “Always, as I’m sure you know. He’s a hard man to say no to and before you judge me, you’re the one in the monkey suit picking me up at my door. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re just as trapped as I am.”

“You and I are nothing alike.” I nod in agreement on that when my eyes snag on something. A perfectly shaped red pair of lips are pressed against his neck, just barely visible past his collar. “Seriously? You couldn’t even wash off your whore’s lipstick before you picked me up?” I scoff. Asher looks in the rear view mirror, turning his head so he can see his neck before he shrugs. He is clearly unbothered. “Someone’s gotta suck my dick and I know it’s not gonna be you.”

“Let me out.” He keeps driving, blatantly ignoring me and I lose it. I take my clutch and begin smacking his arm with it, shouting over and over again. “Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!” “Ow, fuck! Stop,” he snaps, as he tries to continue driving while holding back my arms. In desperation, I do the only thing I can, and I sink my teeth into his wrist. He lets out a rough curse and yanks his arm away from me before whipping the wheel to the side. We pull over with a screech as he turns to face me, a wild look of rage in his eyes. “Get the fuck out!” “Gladly,” I shout with a toss of my hands, pushing my way out of the car and onto the pavement in the next second.

Several cars pass me by, veering uncomfortably close before one slows down altogether. A rush of fear pangs through my body as I subtly look over my shoulder. The passenger window rolls down before a familiar voice calls out to me. “Skyla?” My head whips around to see Ronan watching me with a pinched look. In the next moment, he’s shutting off his car and jogging around the front of it to stand beside me. His eyes roam over me from head to toe, heat licking at my skin in their wake. When his blue eyes settle on me, they’re practically on fire. I watch as he closes them, squeezing hard, before seemingly shaking off whatever he’s thinking as he looks at me with concern. “What are you doing out here?” I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Asher took off.” “He just left you,” Ronan asks sharply, blinking slowly like he can’t be hearing me right. “To be fair, I told him to let me out when I saw the smeared lipstick on his neck,” I shrug, with a defeated sigh. Ronan doesn’t say anything again before I speak. “It’s an arranged marriage, obviously we don’t love or even like each other, but I have a problem with arriving at an event on the arm of my supposed fiancé, who is donning another woman’s lip shade. It’s disrespectful and embarrassing. It looks like I’m not enough to hold a man’s attention. I just—”

“You’re more than enough. Asher is rebelling and taking it out on you. It’s not fair but I hope you know it’s not personal.”

“C’mon, we’re going to be late,” he says, as he rests his hand on my lower back, ushering me towards his car. I nod and accept the gesture before sliding inside. The familiar scent of leather and something musky and delicious wraps around me as he slides into the driver’s seat. He gives me a small, almost reassuring smile before taking off down the road. “Did Asher prepare you?” Ronan asks after a minute or so. “Prepare me for what?” “Tonight.”

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Salem is…different. We have a hierarchy of sorts and Asher’s dad is at the top.” “Does that mean you are too?” I question. He shakes his head. “It doesn’t quite work like that. It’s like the royal family. It’s always going to be the king and the heir that’s of the most importance, yeah?” I nod. “My brother can be…challenging, and first impressions are everything. Be respectful but silent. Only speak when spoken to and don’t seem too interesting.” “Why not?” I say, with a raised brow. Ronan’s eyes come to my own, a hollowed look entering them as he speaks. “Because he loves people who are interesting.”

When Ronan speaks, I’m taken back by the pure anger in his tone. “What the fuck is the matter with you?” he snarls. “You leave your fiancée stranded on the side of the road?” Asher rolls his eyes, taking a long drag of his cigarette as he does. “It’s not my fucking fault. She wanted to get out. What was I supposed to do, drag her ass back kicking and screaming?” “No,” Ronan snaps, smacking the cigarette out of his hand and crushing it beneath his heel. “You’re not going to lay a goddamn finger on her unless she has given verbal permission.”

“I’m serious, Asher. I can only protect you for so long. With…” he pauses for a moment, his eyes coming to me before he continues in a more hushed tone. “Everything, aligning the way it is, you have to be better.” “Maybe, I’m tired of it,” Asher draws out. “You don’t get to be, and you know that. So throw your little fit later. When you’re here, you are respectful, you will display an insurmountable level of couth and you won’t fight with your fiancée.”

“C’mon,” he says, almost defeatedly. “We’re already late.”

He closes his eyes, letting out a near silent breath before offering his arm for me. I slip my hand through the crook of his elbow, allowing it to rest as he pushes one of the doors open. Immediately, we are greeted with the sound of classical music playing throughout the mansion, accompanied by nearly one-hundred people all donned in striking suits and luxurious gowns.

Their eyes swing to Asher, seemingly sizing him up, before Ronan steps into the group. “Excuse me, brother. I wonder if I might show Skyla the gardens.” Christopher grins, like it’s the best idea he’s ever heard before he nods. “Excellent idea, Ronan. Thank you.” I watch as Christopher turns away from me brushing me off dismissively before he begins speaking to Asher in hushed tones, my father sending me a withering glance before he’s listening and speaking as well. I take a few steps with Ronan, before my feet slow as curiosity gets the best of me. I want to stay and listen to what they’re saying. Based on Asher’s face, it doesn’t look good. A warm strong hand is pushing me forward, though. “Keep moving, face forward,” Ronan says as he continues walking, practically dragging me along with him.

Ronan’s hold on me continues as he ushers us down the stairs and to the front of the maze. We enter wordlessly and he doesn’t speak until we take our first turn. “Are you okay?” My brows dip at that, my heels slightly sinking into the grass as we walk. “Yes, why?” “I told you not to be interesting.” I look up at him as I shake my head. “I wasn’t.” “You were, I could see it in his eyes. He’s intrigued by you already and that’s not a good thing.”

Ronan takes a seat beside me, his eyes on me the entire time. My gaze moves from the fountain to him, watching as his forearms rest against his thighs. “So, what’s this party for anyways?” I ask. His eyebrows furrow at that as he tilts his head to the side. “No one told you?” I shake my head. “This is your engagement party.” My stomach flips and irritation rolls through me. Wow, should I honestly expect anything different?

Apparently, I’m not important enough to be filled in on little details like this. We’re silent for several seconds before Ronan speaks. “He doesn’t deserve you. He never should have left you like that tonight and shouldn’t be treating you like he has.” I shrug, breaking eye contact with those hypnotic blue eyes as I stare out into the laurel greens and pops of color woven between them. “When my father told me I was betrothed, I didn’t anticipate meeting the love of my life or anything, but I’ll be honest, I expected to be treated with the minimum amount of respect,” I laugh bitterly, shaking my head as I do. His palm slips underneath my chin, tilting my head to face him as he cups my face tenderly. “You deserve so much more than that. You deserve…everything.” I smile sadly, sinking into his touch. “Even if I did, I’m not sure that’s in the cards for me.”

I feel myself moving closer to him, inch by inch, and he doesn’t stop me. In fact, when I’m just a hair’s breadth away from him, his grip on me tightens before he closes the remaining distance between us. All at once it’s like fireworks and ecstasy tearing through my body, as his pillowy soft lips press against my own. His hand adjusts, forcing my head to tilt back and he takes full advantage of the new position, deepening the kiss as his tongue swipes against mine. I can’t help but moan against him, my hands blindly reaching for him. With each stroke of his tongue my pussy begins pulsing. Before I know it, I’m being lifted up and over him, settling down on top of his lap.

I whimper when I feel his hard cock rub against my quickly dampening panties. Ronan’s hands grip my hips, guiding my movements as he begins grinding me against him.

“Christ baby, you’re fucking soaking my pants.” “I’m sorry,” I pant as I continue my movements, angling myself so my clit is perfectly stimulated against his cock. “Don’t be,” he practically growls. “It’s so hot. Ride me, baby. Make that pretty little pussy come all over my suit.”

another moan slipping out of my mouth. Ronan cups the back of my head with one hand, crushing our lips together once more. His other hand grabs my ass, forcing me to grind against him harder and faster. Just when I think it can’t possibly feel better than this, I see white. Literally, my vision flashes and for a moment I’m completely blind. Pleasure rips through my body like a hurricane, and the only saving grace in containing my screams is Ronan’s tongue that is currently tangled around mine.

I go to open my mouth and ask him what that was about? What does it mean? What happens next? But I don’t get the chance. “You should get back to the party. You’ve been gone for too long. After all, you’re the guest of honor.” Hurt stabs through me that he’s very clearly trying to brush me off, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I raise my head a little higher. Stridding back in the direction that we came from, not giving a damn if I get lost in the process.

I glance over my shoulder relieved when no one follows after me, until I hear a breathy moan. My head whips around, meeting the eyes of Liam. He’s leaning up against a large kitchen island with his hands braced against the counter, pants around his ankles and not one, but two mouths latched around his cock. For a moment, I’m frozen in place. A woman in the caterer’s outfit is on her knees beside a man in a matching outfit.

My eyes come up to Liam only to find him watching me with a knowing smirk, before his eyes roll into the back of his head. He drops a hand to the man’s head, pushing on it encouragingly before doing the same to the woman.

Asher

In the next moment, a figure moving through the crowd catches my eye. Skyla is walking towards us with a myriad of emotions on her face. I look back to see both our fathers watching her carefully, before sharing a look as they glance back to me. “You’re dismissed,” my father says. Nodding my head, I quickly step away from them and turn to start walking towards Skyla. I’m not sure why he’s willing to cut us loose in the middle of our own engagement party, but I don’t really care. I feel a hand grab my arm and I look down to see Bridgette holding it, batting her eyes up at me like that shit is actually going to work on me.

“Asher. What the hell?” she whispers in a hushed tone. “We’re leaving.” “Leaving?” she questions.

“Where are we going?” Skyla asks, while the Valet goes to fetch my car. “Back to campus.” “Why?” “We were dismissed,” I say stiffly. Her brows furrow. “Why?” I roll my eyes, before facing her just as the car pulls up. “Who knows, but I’m not going to snub a get out of jail free card, and neither should you. Know one thing about this place, Princess. If they give you an out at any point, you take it with both hands and run like hell.”

“How do you know everyone? How does everyone know you? I looked it up, there are close to forty-four-thousand people in Salem, Massachusetts. How on earth do you know everyone? How do they know you? Know me?” I contemplate on how much to tell her. According to the Elders, I shouldn’t tell her anything. Women were never meant to be involved, and if they ever became so, they didn’t live long after. That thought isn’t nearly as terrifying as it should be, but rather enticing. No future bride, means no future wedding. Fuck it. “I don’t know everyone, just those that matter. Those that are connected to The Brethren.” “The Brethren?” she questions slowly. “What the hell is that?” “A group of families, with common history and goals for the future.” She’s silent for a moment, before she practically guffaws at me. “A cult?”

“Every family at Gallows Hill University is connected to The Brethren. Why do you think the college is invitation only?” I ask, taking my eyes from the road to give her a ‘duh’ look. Understanding comes to her, and she nods. “And my father? He’s a part of this…society?” she hedges. There we go, that’s a little more accurate. I nod my head as I turn to pull into the parking lot outside of her dorm. “Does everyone on campus know, except me?” I park the car and nod. “All of us grew up together. The same elementary, middle and high schools. Same sports teams or other activities.” “Why was I excluded? Why was I sent away then?” I roll my lips together, knowing this is a secret I can’t share. So instead, I just continue. “The Brethren believe in keeping our future lineage clean from outsiders, hence why most will end up in arranged marriages. Usually arrangements aren’t made until after graduation, but ours was expedited.”

“So, what does this all mean for me? My future? Are you saying I’ll never truly be free from my father? Even after we marry?” I shake my head. “Freedom is an illusion, Princess. This place,” I say, gesturing around at the grand gothic buildings surrounding us. “It’s all smoke and mirrors. Beautiful on the outside, captivating, promising life’s biggest riches and rewards. Everything comes at a price, though.” “What price will I have to pay?” she asks. My eyes come to her, flicking back and forth between her pretty green ones. “You’ll have to wait and see.” She nods at that, looking down at her hands in her lap before she speaks again. “Thank you, for telling me. You didn’t have to, I don’t think anyone else would have.”

appreciate the honesty. I can’t see the knife coming for my back if my eyes are facing forward.” True. “You can’t stop a knife just because you are looking at it,” I counter. She shrugs. “You’re probably right, but at least I won’t be the naïve girl that never saw it coming.”

“So, can we call a truce or something?” she asks. I furrow my brows at that. “Why would we do that?” “Well, you don’t want to marry me and I definitely don’t want to marry you,” she laughs hollowly with a shake of her head. Irritation fills me, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? I’ve been the Brethren’s most eligible bachelor my entire life.

She doesn’t say goodbye, doesn’t invite me up to her room and she doesn't even try to make a move on me. Not like I would have allowed any of those things to happen. Right? Yeah, no. She’s still the enemy. I want the fuck out of this god awful match. Though she has a wet dream body and a mouth I’d love to sink into, there are plenty of women willing, ready and already dripping for me. I close the door, stealing one more glance, as the Princess happily walks herself to her dorm, completely unaware of the predators surrounding her in the dark. A good guy would walk her to her dorm and make sure she got there safely. Too bad there isn’t a good guy around.