Corrupt (Devil's Night, #1)

by Penelope Douglas

There were dark deeds and bad seeds, but who cared if the house was falling apart as long as it was pretty, right?

I wanted to get into a little trouble. I wanted to catch some rain, find something that made my heart pump again, and I wanted to know what it was like to not have anyone to grab onto.

Chess would teach me strategy, fencing would teach me human nature and self-preservation, and dancing would teach me my body. All necessary for a well-rounded person.

She thought she was nothing to me, insignificant and invisible. She wanted me to open my eyes and see her again so fucking badly, but she didn’t realize that I already did.

And the best part? She didn’t know that we knew. She didn’t know that we were coming for her.

The closer you got to anything beautiful, the less beautiful it became. Allure was in the mystery, not the appearance.

“You can’t scare me,” I told him. I felt his hands take mine and pull them off his chest. “I already do.”

“Own who you are,” he commanded. “And don’t apologize. Do you understand? Own it or it will own you.”

What did I see in him? The answer was so easy, I didn’t even have to think about it. It was the same thing he saw in me all those years ago down in the catacombs.

He didn’t want to know me. He didn’t like me. And I wanted that fact to stop hurting. I was so sick of dreaming. Sick of having forced a relationship with Trevor because I believed he would set me straight, and sick of wanting a nightmare that treated me like a dog. Sick of both of them.

Everyone thought the world of Rika, so why did she act like mine was the only opinion that mattered to her?

When she was around, she made everything else small, and all I could see was her.

honestly hated you as much as you hated me. For the same . . . single . . . reason.” I clenched my teeth, lifting my chin. “Her.”

when you’re born with the blessing of the right name, connections, and money, you’ll use it.

Damon Torrance, son of a media mogul. Kai Mori, son of an influential socialite and banker. William Grayson III, grandson of Senator Grayson. And Michael Crist, son of a real estate developer.

The boys may have shunned the rigidity and expectations of their parents, but they certainly enjoyed the...

“Don’t think you’re special,” he sneered. “Lots of women get him. No one keeps him.”

Youth culture in Thunder Bay was a snake pit. Tread lightly with no sudden movements or someone would strike.

“You aren’t born with respect and reverence. You learn patience and value through struggle.”

“No one fucks with you but us,” he warned

with a sinister smile.

I was no longer their toy. They needed to move on.

“Well, I don’t know Damon and Will all that well,” she stated, “but I can promise you, you were never invisible to them.”

I wanted to understand why we did the things we did. Why we made the decisions we made.

“I thought you were one of us,” he whispered, his breath caressing my lips. “I thought you could play.”

And from Michael—as well as Damon, Will, and Kai—I learned to breathe fire.

I learned to walk as if the path were carved for me and me alone, and to treat the world as if it should know I was coming.

“When you want to make an impression and you think you’ve gone far enough, go a little further. Always leave them wondering if you’re just a little bit crazy, and people will never fuck with you again.”

When your enemies didn’t know your limits, they didn’t press them.

“Yeah, they’re just matches,” I continued, my voice growing thick with tears. “And memories and smells and sounds and butterflies in my stomach every time I heard the car door slam outside, telling me that he was home. A thousand dreams of all the places I’d have adventures someday.”

“They’re hopes and wishes and reminders and all the times I smiled, knowing he’d remembered me while he was gone.”

And the things that were irreplaceable in life were the only things of value.

looked up at him. “You’re in everything.”

I screwed up. I wanted her, and I wanted her to myself tonight. It was done, and it couldn’t be undone, so fuck it.

Our scrapes and bruises, tattoos, scars, smiles, and wrinkles told our stories,

I wanted her and everything she was. At least for tonight.

She and I were the same, after all. We fought shame every day, struggling with who we could let see the real us, and we’d finally found each other.

When she finally realized that my opinion was the only one that mattered.

My father would force me away from her. He took away everything that made me happy.

No one comes between friends. Least of all a woman.

Redefine normal. None of us know the full measure of our power until we start pushing our boundaries and pressing our luck, and the more we do, the less we care what others think. The freedom feels too good.

“My brother thinks you’re his . . . and all I ever did was try to deny that I wanted you for myself.”

“This is what we were built for, Michael. You and me.”

I’d be just as much of a nightmare to her as a dream,

“I want you,” she choked out. “Forever I’ve wanted you, and now I feel . . .”

Just one touch, and I would know he wanted me like I wanted him, and I could be happy.

And then his hand came around my neck, and he pulled me into his chest, and I was his. It was done. Now I knew, and there was no turning back. No stopping. Why did he ruin it?

I wanted it all to be out of our control, because we had no choice but to dive in.

Fucking rules? How could he do that? That wasn’t us. We weren’t going to care what others thought, and we wouldn’t ask permission.

“I’m not playing your games. You were wrong.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You want to know what I’ve learned? I don’t win by playing your games. I win by making you play mine.”