Cruel Intentions: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Rydeville High Elite #1)
Siobhan Davis
PROLOGUE
Waves crash against the empty shore, summoning me with invisible arms, and my feet move toward the icy water as if I’m pulled by a string. I’m numb inside. Hollowed out. And I just want to put an end to this… charade that is my so-called life.
I never remember a time in my seventeen years on this earth where I had free will. Where every aspect of my life wasn’t controlled and mapped out.
And I’m done.
Done with the mask I’ve no choice but to wear.
Done with the elite crap I’m forced to participate in.
Done with that monster who calls himself my father.
I want out, and the turbulent sea offers me salvation. I scarcely feel the deathly cold water as it swirls around my ankles like the tempting caress of a destructive lover. My silk robe offers little protection against the bitter wind whipping my long dark hair around my face, and goose bumps prickle my skin in everyplace it’s exposed.
I walk farther into the water, my body shivering and shaking as the wild waves lap at my calves. An eerie voice echoes in my mind, urging me to stop.
Imploring me to go back.
Pleading with me not to give up.
Suggesting my world is about to change.
I ignore that taunting voice, tilting my head up, surveying the crescent moon in the dark nighttime sky, casting strangely shaped shadows on the land below. My ears prick at the sound of splashing behind me, and my heart beats faster as adrenaline courses through my veins, but I don’t turn around.
“Hey. Are you okay?” a deep masculine voice asks from close by.
I’m standing knee-deep in icy-cold water in the middle of the night in minuscule clothing. Does it fucking look like I’m okay? My snarky alter ego mentally responds to his question, but I remain mute. I can’t summon the energy to speak or to care what the stranger thinks of me.
I just want him to go away. To leave me alone. To at least give me this.
But no such luck.
He wades through the water, his darkened form brushing against my arm as he moves around me, positioning himself directly in my line of sight so I’ve no choice but to look at him.
A flicker of warmth enters my chest as I stare into sultry brown eyes that are so deep they’re almost black. The glow from the moon casts a shadow around his form, highlighting his masculine beauty in all its glory. He’s wearing low-hanging cotton shorts and nothing else. His bare chest is an impressive work of art that speaks to incredible dedication in the gym. His cut abs are so sharp they look painted on. But it’s the tattoos on his chest and lower arms that grab my attention. None of the guys at Rydeville High would dare ink their skin. It wouldn’t fit the reputations they’ve so carefully cultivated or suit their obnoxious parents’ plans for their futures. The elite wouldn’t dream of lowering themselves to something so provincial.
This guy is an enigma, and the first sparks of curiosity ignite inside me.
My eyes trail up his delectable torso, refocusing on his face. He’s watching me carefully. Absorbing my gaze like he wants to bury deep inside me and figure me out. My fingers itch to run along the fine layer of scruff adorning his chin and jawline. To mess up his hair which is styled long on top and shorn close to his skull on both sides. A craving to explore his chiseled cheekbones, and to taste his full lips, hits me out of nowhere, reminding me I’m still very much alive.
I can’t ever recall having such a strong, physical reaction to a guy upon sight. None of the guys back home have affected me so potently, except for Trent—he makes my skin crawl with the barest of looks—but this is the complete opposite.
One glance from this stranger heats my blood and stirs desire low in my belly. I cock my head to the side, intrigued and aroused, my previous self-destructive mission all but forgotten.
We don’t speak. We just stare at one another and an electrical current charges the small space between us. My body emerges from its semi-comatose state, and I’m equally hot and cold. A shiver works its way through me, and I wrap my arms around my slim frame, desperately trying to ward off the biting cold air clawing at my pale skin.
“You need to get warm.” The stranger extends his hand. “Come with me.”
I wrap my hand around his without hesitation, and we tread through the water back toward the shore. His callused palm is firm against my skin, sending a flurry of fiery tingles coasting up and down my arm. We don’t speak as we emerge from the sea, walking across the clammy sand toward a small wooden cabin in the near distance. I hadn’t noticed it when I first arrived because I had singular focus.
A thin stream of smoke creeps out of a narrow chimney, and I watch the cloudy spirals with fascination as we walk hand in hand toward the neat wooden structure. In the distance, a sprawling mansion occupies prime real estate, the property submerged in darkness at this late hour.
He pushes open the door, stepping aside to allow me to enter first. A blast of heat slaps me in the face from the roaring open fire, and my body relaxes for the first time in days. The cabin is small but cozy and welcoming. The main room contains a compact kitchen with a stove, sink, and a long counter with three stools. On the right is a three-seater couch positioned in front of a coffee table and a wall-mounted TV over the fireplace. A side room suggests a bedroom with en suite bathroom, and that’s the extent of the space.