Wrath of an Exile: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (The River Styx Heathens Book 1)

Phi

September 13

Find the key. Get it back. Steal theirs if you can.

Rules are simple, but out here, nothing ever is.

The darkness at Gallows Reef isn’t just the absence of light—it’s alive.

A thing that presses against my skin, cold and unyielding. My fingers dig through the wet sand, waves kissing my knuckles, while the ocean crashes against the rocks, a constant, relentless roar.

Where the echoes of passion quietly sleep,

Hidden where the shore’s whispers seep.

That was our hint, so that means it has to be here. There is no other place it could be. Well, I mean, there are definitely other hiding spots. Gallows Reef and the surrounding woods are like a hundred acres.

But there is only one Lovers Cove. Which I know because this is where Atlas lost his virginity.

Gross. Did not need that mental image in my⁠—

“Found it!” I shout, interrupting my own thoughts. “Holy shit, I found it.”

Glinting faintly in the pale moonlight filtering down through the mist is the key to town hall. I press the historic skeleton key to my chest like it’s my firstborn child.

“Phi, I could kiss you on the mouth right now!”

“Please don’t,” I shout back to Atlas, who was helping me dig, which he was not happy about.Nôvel/Dr(a)ma.Org - Content owner.

But we flipped Charon’s obol for it, and he lost. So the other two got the fun job.

I stand from the wet sand, leggings soaked and sticking to me. Nora comes around the corner, a baseball bat slung over her shoulder and sweat dripping from her brow.

“I forgot how fun this was,” she breathes, wiping the blood on her mouth off with the back of her hand, a grin on her lips.

“Coming back home isn’t all bad, huh?” I grin, walking closer to her and using my thumb to clean the crimson from her chin.

“It could definitely be worse.”

“We gotta go run for the woods. Time’s almost up,” Atlas announces, coming up from behind me and waving his phone in my face. “Let’s make like a banana and split.”

“You’re an idiot.” My voice is a low laugh as I smack the back of his head.

Walking out of the cave, I tuck the key into my bra. The mist rolling in from the water, thick and swirling, casts a blanket across the darkened beach, making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead, let alone to the edge of the woods.

Great, I already can’t see shit ’cause I dropped my last pair of contacts in the fucking sink this morning. This is going to be just lovely.

“Holy shit, your eye,” I gasp as we hit the sand of the beach, laying eyes on my brother for the first time in an hour.

Reign’s shirt is ripped to shit, scratches littering his torso, pink bruises forming on his ribs. But the worst is the split right down the middle of his eyebrow. It’s swollen and raw, leaking blood down his cheek.

“Who the fuck brings nunchucks?” he complains, chest heaving.

I roll my eyes. “Probably the same kind of person who brings brass knuckles.”

I note the way the moon catches on the silver metal curled around his fingers as we walk through the fog.

“Anyone else getting the vibe that we’re about to be sucked into a black hole?” Nora says softly, boots thudding against the sand.

“Actually, black holes don’t suck things in like a vacuum cleaner. It’s more about the gravitational pull being so strong that not even⁠—”

“I love you, but not the time for that nerdy word vomit thing you do when you get nervous,” Atlas interrupts me, his eyes behind us. “Wasters incoming.”

A bolt of panic and adrenaline surges through my chest as I follow his intense gaze to the group a few yards away. Their heavy footfalls thump against the ground as they sprint toward us.

“Run.”

I’m not sure who said it, but it doesn’t matter. We take off toward the edge of the woods looming just ahead, a darker line against the gray mist.

No more laughter, no more jokes.

The Gauntlet didn’t get sneaky because of accidents. It got sneaky because people started dying, and everyone knew it wasn’t just bad luck.

It’s something darker, something raw and relentless, where the line between a game and the grave blurs. Where life and death dance too close for comfort, and the stakes are more than just bragging rights.

A brutal proving ground where old grudges, festering beneath the surface for generations, find a bloody outlet.

The ache in my chest starts quickly. My boots kick up sand with each step, shifting beneath my feet, making me fight for every inch.

Running isn’t my thing. Someone could rob me with the threat of running, no weapon needed.

When the soles of my boots hit solid dirt, my feet breathe a sigh of relief, just before my cheek hisses at me as a tree branch slashes across my face. I can feel the split skin leaking blood, but I don’t have time to check the damage.

The double helix is our marked area, two spruce trees that grew side by side, trunks intertwining like strands of DNA. I know where it is normally, but right now, it’s hard to make out my hand in front of my face.

Wet air weighs down my lungs, chest burning as the usual sharp edges of reality are blurred and softened by thick, swirling fog.

I can’t tell if I trip or a branch grabbed my ankle, but either way, I go tumbling onto the damp earth, knees breaking my fall with a thud. Looking around me, I see nothing.

No Nora, or Reign, or Atlas.

Just me.

I look up at the endless night sky, the hopeless stars trying to pierce the canopy of trees. But their effort is futile. Ponderosa pine trees crowd the sky, looming. Spindly branches horned with needles reach outward, skeletal fingers ready to snatch me up.

I place my hands on my knees, dropping my head. Pretty positive my heart is about to eject itself from my chest.

A high-pitched whistle shatters my eardrums, the air from a bullet brushing my cheek. Moonlight cuts through the pines, illuminating the tree bark in front of me, where a circle of red paint now drips.

Okay, nunchucks, fine. But a goddamn paintball gun? Seriously?

“Please—stop, no!”

The gut-wrenching scream cuts through the night, ricocheting off the trees, slicing above the crashing waves. I whip around, heart in my throat, just in time to see a stranger stumble through the pines, his clothes smeared with red paint, collapsing onto the damp forest floor.

The instinct to help kicks in, and I lurch forward, feet barely finding their grip in the dirt. But then, another figure emerges from the shadows.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, hand flying to my mouth as I watch the guy slam the butt of the gun into the stranger’s face with a sickening thud.

Blood spurts from his nose as he curls into a fetal position on the ground.

The familiar taste of panic swells in my throat, fear kicking my legs into gear.

I’m running, but it feels like I’m sinking. Every step is heavier, like the ground is swallowing me whole, dragging me down into the earth. The fog is thick, suffocating. My lungs burn, screaming for air that I can’t seem to find.

I can’t get enough. There isn’t enough air.

Branches tear at my skin, sharp and relentless, like claws trying to pull me back. The trees are closing in, their gnarled arms reaching out. The darkness is alive, pulsing, a living thing that feeds on my fear.

Another paintball whizzes past my arm, urging me to continue weaving through the trees. I have no idea where everyone is, and at this point, I don’t know where I’m at either.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I’m barely clear of a tree when pain explodes across my chest—once, twice, three times in quick succession, each shot landing with brutal precision.

“Shit!” I shout, grinding my teeth together, “You got me the first time, asshole!”

My palm goes to my arm, red paint seeping through my fingers as I try to soothe the ache, but it’s no use. A tree branch snaps behind me, and I whip around, heart hammering in my chest.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Ponderosa Springs’s Queen of Disaster in the flesh. If I’d know who you were, I would’ve only shot once.”

The moonlight casts an eerie glow on his face, highlighting the sinister smirk etched on his features. He’s unremarkable in every way: average height, plain face, but there is something unsettling about his ratty eyes.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” I mutter, taking a step back when he walks forward.

His predatory gaze travels up and down my body, assessing me like a piece of meat. “I fucking hate redheads, but God, you’re too tempting to pass up.”

Panic claws at my throat, threatening to choke me.

Another step forward, another step back.

Until he’s only a few feet in front of me and the bark of a tree bites into my spine.

“Make sure you fight me hard, baby. It’s gonna make breaking into that tight cunt so much sweeter.”

Memories crash into me like waves, relentless and cold, pulling me under. I see flashes of a face, of eyes filled with malice, of hands that hurt, that break, that take everything until there’s nothing left.

I’m no longer here. I’m there, trapped in a nightmare that I never escaped.

I’m not in control. I’m not in control. I’m not⁠—

A harrowing thud cracks through the darkness. I blink, vision clearing just in time to see the Waster’s head collide with the tree right next to the one I’m leaning on. Shock ripples through me as he’s lifted by the back of his hair before his face smashes into the bark again.

The cracking of bone and wails of pain tangle in the night, echoing in my ears.

The moonlight slashes across Jude’s face, carving out the undeniable rage twisting his features into something artistically monstrous. The golden medallion necklace around his neck sways with his movements. I can’t bring myself to look away as his fingers tighten around the stranger’s hair, repeatedly slamming his head into the tree.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

I’m not sure how long it lasts, but the moans of agony halt, replaced with a disgusting choking sound before the man’s body falls. A distorted heap of bones and flesh on the forest floor. He coughs, teeth spraying from his torn lips.

One rattling breath. Two. Then his chest goes wholly still.

Jude stands over him, shoulders heaving, light gray T-shirt straining as the muscles in his back ripple with every breath. Rage pulses from him in relentless waves, so intense I can see it in the corded veins on his forearms, surging and taut with raw fury.

There is nothing but the look on his face as he finally turns to me.

Cheekbones carved with precision, splattered with blood. A constellation of savagery. A strong jawline that could have been sculpted from stone. Full lips that hint at softness yet are set in a cruel, unyielding line.

His beauty isn’t gentle; it’s fierce, commanding, the kind that leaves a trail of destruction in its wake, burning with the same ferocity as a dying star. Jude is raw, beautiful brutality.

A supernova.

“What…is he…” My voice barely rises above a whisper, words strangled by the intensity of his gaze.

He takes a step forward, the distance between us slowly evaporating.

Blood trickles down the hollow of his throat, drawing my eyes as it drips to the ground. His Adam’s apple bobs when he speaks.

“I’m the only one allowed to hate you.”

My chest tightens, every breath coming sharper, harder to hold on to, as if my heart is about to break free from the cage it’s trapped in. Panic coils in my stomach, wrapping tighter around my ribs.

Our eyes catch, like lace fabric on unfinished wooden furniture.

The silvery light from the moon shows the stormy blend of navy and turbulent gray in his irises. A sky on the brink of fury, thunderclouds gathering.

Tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

The body is a remarkable thing, sensing danger before the mind can fully grasp it. Lightning is near, despite the clear, star-strewn sky above. The air crackles with static electricity, a silent warning that I’ve stepped into a charged zone.

I’m going to regret what comes next.

I am about to break the only commandment engraved in the Book of Van Doren. The ultimate sin.

“Thou shalt not covet a Sinclair.”

My father will never forgive me for this.

“Touch me.”

His eyes burn into mine, head tilting as he peers down at me. “Say it again. Tell me you want me, Geeks.”

This is my out.

This is where I walk away.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

My fingers grab the hem of my shirt, ripping it over my head. My chest heaves as it falls to the damp ground, and I look up at him.

“Touch me,” I repeat, tongue wetting my bottom lip as I take ahold of his belt, tugging him into my body. “Show me how much you fucking hate me.”

Jude claims my mouth like a punishment, as if he’s trying to pour every ounce of hostility in his bones down my throat. Like he wants me to choke on it. His lips are hot, angry, punishing me, hand cradling the back of my neck, forcing my mouth to open up further for his tongue to explore.

A helpless moan escapes my throat as his other hand finds its mark, palm cupping my pussy through the fabric of my leggings. The heel of his palm grinds against the ache between my thighs, heat building in me. My body betrays me with each pulse of desire that ripples through me, so intense I can hardly breathe.

And when I do, it’s only his scent filling my lungs.

Books. Black Ice. Smoke.

No oxygen. Just him.

Jude’s body is a wall of solid heat, shoving me against the rough bark of the tree as I arch into his hand, desperate. The friction is too good, feels too real, igniting sparks that spread across my skin, sharp, electric, on the verge of combusting under his touch.

With hungry hands, I move my palm down his chest to the hard bulge straining against his jeans. My core clenches around nothing, remembering the way this dick stretched me open, demanding entrance and delivering nothing but pleasure.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I let my teeth grab my bottom lip, feeling him throb against my palm. Heat radiates from his cock as I wrap my hand around it, squeezing just enough to pull a deep, guttural growl from him.

He tears his mouth from mine, his lips trailing down to the rapid pulse at my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Jude’s fingers are already ripping my leggings down, rough and impatient.

Breath hot against my neck, he growls, “What are your friends going to say when they find you panting for my cock like a needy little whore, huh?”

“Same thing yours would say if they saw how desperate you are to be inside my pussy,” I bite, hands working their way under his shirt, nails scratching every rigid line of his abs, feeling the molten heat of his skin, the tension rippling beneath it.

A quick grasp escapes me as his hand comes down hard on my ass, the sting making my legs quiver.

“I’m gonna fuck that snarky-ass mouth one day. Ruin those pretty lips until they’re nothing but a hole for me to spill in. We’ll see how much shit you talk when you’re choking on my dick.”

With my leggings halfway down my thigh, I shove them the rest of the way off, stepping out of the pool of clothing until I’m left in just my bra and shoes, exposed to the night air.

My back bows against the rough bark as his fingers find the slick heat between my thighs. Two fingers tease along my cunt, slow and deliberate, spreading my wetness in lazy, taunting strokes.

“Goddamn,” he grunts against my ear, letting me feel the smirk on his lips as his fingers lazily sink into my entrance. “Wet. Tight. Hot. Aching for me. Such a good fucking pussy.”

I preen beneath his praise, parting my legs wider to give him more access. My walls tighten around his fingers, clenching as he works them in and out, the rhythm relentless.

Each stroke sends lightning through my veins, burning up every last shred of guilt I had left. The air between us is thick with the sound of my pussy opening up for him. Slick, obscene, lewd desire.

This pleasure, the kind Jude fosters in me, drowns everything out. There is no hatred, no self-loathing. Just his fingers, fucking me harder, driving me toward a release so intense I can barely hold myself together.

“Taste how sweet your cunt is for me,” he murmurs against my skin, leaving me hollow before filling another one of my holes. “Fucking the enemy tastes good, doesn’t it, my little traitor?”

His long fingers shove past my bruised lips, forcing me to moan around them. My tongue swirls, tasting my own need. The salty tang of myself fills my mouth, and I just want more.

I want more, need more, every nerve in my body screaming for him to take me further, to push me over the edge until there’s nothing left but raw, mind-numbing bliss.

“Loner.” My husky voice scratches my throat. “If you don’t fuck me in the next twenty seconds, I’m gonna find someone who will.”

A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest, the feel of those sharp canine teeth dragging across my collarbone before he takes a step back.

“By all means, Geeks. Go ahead.” He smirks, eyes half-lidded as he yanks his shirt over his head. “When he busts before you come, your foster brother will be right down the hall to finish you off.”

There is nothing more dangerous than a man who’s good in bed and fucking knows it.

“Still afraid of heights?” he asks, stepping closer once again, a gleam in his eyes.

My brows knit together. “Wha⁠—”

It’s all the reaction I have time for before he palms my ass and lifts me off the ground. The breath is knocked from my lungs at the rush as I instinctively try to tether my legs around his waist.

But he doesn’t stop.

No, he forces me higher, shoving me up his body until I’m perched with my legs dangling over his shoulders and his head between my thighs.

“Fuck,” I gasp, head tilting back against the tree as my fingers thread through his hair, clinging to him as he drags his tongue along the slit of my pussy.

“Who’s about to play with your pretty pink pussy, Geeks?” His voice is thick with lust, sultry gaze locking onto mine when I glance down, taunting.

“You.” My fingers tighten in the dirty-gold strands of his hair, pulling him closer, needing him to curb the desire churning in my stomach.

Playfully, he bites at my dangling belly button ring, tugging it away from my body lightly before letting it go.

“Say my name,” he demands, spitting directly on my clit before coaxing it with the tip of his tongue. “Tell me who’s about to devour your cunt until you drip down my chin.”

“You talk too fucking much.”

A sharp smack echoes through the woods as he slaps me on the ass, the sting making me twitch.

“I will fucking leave you here. Aching for me. Say it and I’ll give your needy cunt what she wants. I’ll suck, fuck, and fill her up. Leave her swollen and dripping with my cum. Let me make her feel good. Say my fucking name, Seraphina.”

I try to jerk my hips toward his mouth, but he tightens his grip, holding me still, right at the brink. A teasing flick here, a lazy stroke there. His tongue ring grazes over my clit in cruel, torturous strokes.

My pulse pounds in my ears, the throbbing between my thighs two fucking intense. Too fucking much. I need it so bad it fucking hurts.

“Jude,” I finally say, voice coming out as a whimper. “Jude is about to eat my pussy.”

“Atta girl.”

His lips curve into a wicked smile, dark satisfaction in his eyes that tugs low in my stomach.

Without hesitation, Jude’s mouth descends on me, his hot mouth sealing over my clit. The relief of pressure is enough to almost make me come. My thighs tighten around his head as his tongue moves with a precision that makes my legs tremble.

Holding me steady, firm hands gripping my hips as he devours me like a man starved, he drags me closer to the edge of sanity.

Every flick of his tongue sends lightning bolts through my body, each stroke deliberate, relentless. The cold metal of his tongue ring flicking against me has tension coiling in my stomach, tighter and tighter, like a wire stretched too tight.

“Faster,” I pant. “Yes, fuck, right there.”

I tilt my head back, eyes closed, letting out a strangled moan as he alternates between slow, teasing licks and firm before giving my clit attention. He pushes me further, making it harder to hold back from the pleasure on my heels that’s threatening to rip me apart.

He growls low against my core, the vibrations making me arch. The rough bark of the tree scrapes my back, pain mixing with pleasure in a perfect, brutal harmony.

“That’s it, little traitor. Show me how hard you come for the guy you hate. Soak my fucking face. Let that pussy cry for me.” His words are muffled by my body, but I feel them reverberate through me, sinking deep into my bones.

Pressure builds, consuming every thought until there’s nothing left. No worry. No hatred. No Jude. No Phi.

Just the heat of his mouth against my wet core, the burn in my veins, and the primal, insistent need to let go.

My fingers tighten in his hair, my breath ragged. “I’m coming. Shit, I’m coming, Jude⁠—”

My orgasm crashes into me, a violent release, ripping through me with a force so intense I can’t hold back the scream that tears from my throat. Legs tightening around his shoulders, my hands gripping his hair, desperate to anchor myself as wave after wave of pleasure racks through me.

White-hot sparks flicker behind my eyelids, body shaking with the force of it. I can feel every beat of my heart, each one sending shock waves through every inch of me. My pulse thunders in my veins, relentless as I free-fall into a pool of ecstasy.

And I just keep falling because Jude doesn’t stop.

My breath catches in short, ragged bursts as he keeps working his tongue in slow, lazy strokes that drag out the pleasure, stretching it like taffy until my body is on fire.

His fingers dig into my hips, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to remind me of where I am, who I am, and that this isn’t a dream. It’s all too real, too visceral. I crave the bite of pain, the way it roots me in the moment, grounding me as pleasure rips me apart.

“Oh fuck. Jesus fucking⁠—”

The words tumble out of my mouth in a broken chant. My legs shake uncontrollably as his relentless mouth keeps working, dragging me deeper into an abyss.

Where there is no light. No oxygen. No life.

Just pleasure.

I’m barely recovering from the first orgasm when I feel it building again, an unstoppable force tightening inside me, pussy clenching hard around nothing. My vision blurs with the intensity of it, the world narrowing down to the way his mouth owns me, to the ache between my legs.

It’s a haze of pleasure, white-hot and all-encompassing. A fog I’m not sure I’ll ever leave.

Time blurs—seconds, minutes, hours—all folding into one endless moment where nothing exists beyond the heat of his mouth and the soft burn spreading through my body.

My legs tremble as he pulls away, leaving me breathless and exposed to the cool bite of the night air. I don’t know how I’m still standing when he finally sets me down, my body jolting as the breeze brushes against my overly sensitive skin.

Jude’s breathing is labored, eyes hooded as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks at me like he’s starving, like he could stay between my thighs forever and still want more. It’s that look—raw, unfiltered—like I’m something sacred and ruinous all at once, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

And then the world crashes back in.

A siren pierces the air, sharp and shrill, slicing through the thick fog of lust with a violent clarity. West Trinity Falls has returned their key. The sound is like ice water dousing a fire, pulling me out of the heat and into the cold.

The Gauntlet. The key. The metallic shape presses against my chest, still hidden beneath the band of my bra, but the urgency that gripped me earlier has vanished. The key doesn’t matter now. Not with this weight settling inside me, thick and suffocating. The nauseating awareness of what just happened, of what we’ve done, anchors me to the moment like a stone pulling me under.

I glance over Jude’s shoulder, past his broad frame, and my gaze snags on the body lying on the forest floor. Lifeless. Motionless. Dead.

It feels unreal, like something out of a dream—a nightmare that doesn’t quite belong to me. But it is. It’s real. It’s so damn real.

Jude Sinclair just killed someone.

For me.