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

Jude

September 7

I grew up in a house of silence.

It stretched from end to end, allowing me to hear every step, every creak. Depending on the weight and pace, I could gauge my father’s mood without even seeing him. Know what drug he’d taken or if he’d had white or brown liquor.

This house isn’t like that. Not even close.

Not only are the ceilings painfully white and sheets too soft, like a fucking expensive hotel that I’d give a negative three-star rating on Yelp for trying too hard, but it’s loud.

Chaotic.

Laughter echoes in every room here. It shouts with love from every corner.

There is a constant brigade of heavy footsteps, kids flowing in and out of the front door. For dinner, before class, in the middle of the day just because. I’d run smack into Nora Hawthorne for the first time in my life at two in the morning when I was going to piss.

I’d never given much thought to the rumors of how intense she was until that night. Nora’s intimidating as fuck. I actually believed her when she said she’d cut my dick off if I screwed with anyone in the Van Doren household.

My thoughts are interrupted when my bedroom door bangs against the wall as it flies open. Some girl stumbling in, heels way too high for the amount of alcohol she’s had.

“Sin?” she slurs, confusion clouding her face for a second before her brows shoot up. “Oh, right! You’re the Van Dorens’ new foster kid now, aren’t you? How does that work, like after your dad died⁠—”

The walls practically shake from the music blasting from downstairs, leaking in through the open door.

I flip the page of my sociology book in my lap, teeth grinding. “Get out.”

“Sorry. Sore subject. My friends constantly tell me I have no filter,” she rambles. “Anyway, party is getting boring, and you look like you could use some⁠—”

I shift my eyes lazily back to her face. “No.”

Her brows knit together, a hint of embarrassment creeping into her expression. “Are you serious?”

“Dead.”

No matter how much the Springs’s good girls love fucking us Wasters, it’ll never change how they look at us. Like we’re trash, dirt under their designer heels.

My gaze drops to the gold Cartier necklace resting just above her boobs before drifting back up to meet her eyes. They’re a pretty shade of blue, but pretty has never done it for me.

Pretty is boring, refined, chemically processed.

I need someone raw, someone I can sink my teeth into. The kind of connection that feels toxic when it floods your veins but is actually the best high you’ll ever chase. One you can’t quit even if you wanted to.

Love is the only drug I’ve ever wanted in my bloodstream. Craved and crippled my heart for it. It’s the core of human existence. Forever wanting what we will never have.

“My friends were right. You’re such an ass—” She stops mid-sentence, her face lighting up as she lets out an ear-piercing squeal. “Oh my God, this is my song!”

And just like that, she’s gone, sprinting out of my room as quickly as she came. It’s impressive, really, considering how high those heels are.

I shove my book off my lap, running a frustrated hand down my face. Never thought I’d say this, but I wish Rook and Sage would get back already.

They’ve been gone a few days, some fucking business trip, and their children are set on driving me out of my mind.

Except for Andromeda. She might be the only Van Doren I can stand.

She doesn’t talk much.

We pass each other quietly in the mornings, just long enough to grab coffee. The only words she’s spoken to me were to ask if she could have some of the hazelnut creamer I use. And because she doesn’t glare holes through my skull like her brother, I said yes.

If Reign could catch me on fire with his gaze, I’d be a torched crisp by now.

Anytime that asshole has a chance, he reminds me of just how unhappy he is about having me in his house.

My response is always the same.

Ditto.

I drag myself out of the bed, not bothering with a shirt, the jeans I wore today stiff against my thighs. I’m gonna be up all night finishing this paper, which means I’m going to have to make the trek downstairs into the zoo to grab my Red Bull in the fridge.

The music is louder out here.

It pounds through the walls, vibrating in my chest like a second heartbeat. Voices drift up from downstairs—laughter, drunken conversations, the occasional shout.

I move down the stairs, taking them two at a time, ignoring the groups of people scattered along the steps like they’re camping out. The smell of alcohol and weed hits me as soon as I round the corner into the main room. Bodies press against each other, swaying, grinding, making it more of a club than a living room.

Keeping my head down, I make my way through the throngs of trust-fund babies and Wasters in disguise, trying to ignore the way a few people huddle together when I pass, their voices going from high-pitched excitement to hushed whispers.

I push through the crowd, eyes set on the kitchen. Just get what I need. Get back to my room. Easy.

Easy? Yes.

Without distraction? No.

Swaying and clutching a bottle of half-drunk tequila on top of a marble island is my least favorite Van Doren.

A loud wolf whistle pierces my ears as I lean against the entryway, hidden behind a crowd of people pooling in the kitchen to watch Phi’s audition for the Coyote Ugly Saloon.

Sandwiched between two girls, clad in dark red leather pants that sit dangerously low on her hips, she sways to the music. A pit of hot-blooded males smack their palms against the marble, cheering them on.

My least favorite, yes, but God, she’s the most fun to fuck with.

Phi’s been doing her best to avoid me after our run-in at the library, keeping her distance at home, ducking out when she spots me on campus. I’m pretty sure she’s even started locking her door at night, desperately trying to keep a wall between us, because she’s afraid.

Scared of what I’m gonna do in retaliation for her little prank.

I know she’s afraid I’m gonna snitch about the water tower, but she’s got nothing to worry about there.

We both have something to lose if anyone finds out.

Her family. My future.

“Take it off!” someone shouts just before the other girls hop down, fading into the background as Phi keeps sensually lifting her shirt higher and higher, unbothered as the material stops just beneath her bra, thriving in the spotlight.

It’s not like anyone was watching the other girls anyway.

No, when Seraphina enters a room, she snatches the attention of everyone close enough to catch a glimpse. It’s her fucking world; we are just witnessing it move in circles.

Little attention whore.

I roll the barbell of my tongue ring across my teeth when she drops to her knees, slinging her hair recklessly. My eyes eat up the view, devouring the skin of her exposed stomach, tight fabric covering her plump ass that everyone wants their mouth on.

Including the creep leaning down to catch a glimpse beneath her skirt. He’s shouting drunk words at her, and I just know he’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

I hate her, but I’m not gonna let her or anyone else get sexually assaulted.

I stalk through the swarm of bodies, shouldering myself to the edge of the island that’s acting as a makeshift stage.

“Get lost,” I grunt to the dude in front of me.

He turns, bleary-eyed and annoyed until he realizes I’m bigger than him.

Much bigger.

“Yeah, man, all yours,” he mutters, ducking his head and disappearing into the crowd of people.

I move so I’m facing Phi again, and just when she winds her body down in the shape of an S, squatting down with her eyes closed, I curl my fingers around her ankle.

My jaw tightens when her eyes pop open.

Sea-glass green, hazy and unfocused from the booze. Shards of glass washed onshore, softened by the tide but still sharp if you look close enough.

“No killjoys allowed.”

Her pink mouth curves into a grin, an authentic smile.

Briefly, just briefly, it knocks the fucking breath out of me. My lungs struggle to expand, brain forgetting how to operate simple bodily functions.

Phi smiles at everyone.

It’s not rare for that grin to make an appearance. Kinda like the sun rising each morning, even when it doesn’t feel like it. Phi’s natural default is to be a beam of light, anywhere, anytime.

But this is the first time Seraphina Van Doren has ever smiled at me.

I recover quickly, tightening my grip on her ankle, nails digging into the skin. “Didn’t know they hired strippers for college parties.”

Her eyes narrow.

Ah, there it is.

Smiles I’m not equipped for, but her rage? I’m all over that shit.

No amount of tequila will blur her distaste for me. Phi leans in close, a curtain of freshly dyed red hair falling in front of her face, giving me permission to smell the vanilla imprinted on her skin.

“Hands off the entertainment, Sinclair. You can’t afford to pay this piper.” Her voice is poisoned honey, sticky and sweet with that raw bite, eyes tinged with mischief.

Some 2000s pop song screams from the speakers, causing mass eruption from the people around us, squeals of joy as they scramble to find someone to grind their booze-filled bodies on.

Phi’s eyes leave me, looking around the party, I’m assuming to try and find someone to save her from her social suicide.

Seraphina Van Doren doesn’t acknowledge my existence around other people. She’d probably rather hack off her own toe with a soldering iron than be seen talking to a Sinclair in public.

But I could give a fuck less if the entire town watched the way their queen is about to fall to her knees for the bastard outcast.

I’ve already reached into my front pocket with one hand, pulling a crisp Benjamin from the wad of cash shoved in there. When she attempts to stand, I jerk her ankle until she loses her balance, smirking as she falls straight to her ass on the marble.

Her mouth is open to speak, but I just tug her to the edge of the island. One of her legs dangles at my side while I tuck the other one around my back, forcing our bodies together, fusing my lower half to hers.

I lift the bill between my middle and forefinger, dropping my gaze to her mouth.

The temptation is too much when her pink tongue wets her bee-stung lips. With a slow, deliberate motion, I drag the money across her red mouth, leaving behind a smear of her favorite vibrant crimson lipstick on the crisp green paper.

I descend further, leaving a scorching path down her chin and delicately tracing the curves of her neck with the bill. Our eyes remain locked, speaking words we’d never say out loud. I feel her breath catch in her throat. A soft whimper I’m positive she didn’t want me to hear hits my ears. The thrumming pulse in her neck matches the rapid beating of my own.

Every inhale I take is sticky, hot, and tastes of vanilla, filling my chest with a burning tension I’m more than ready to choke on. My fingertips glide over the soft swell of her breasts before slipping the cash into the neckline of her shirt, nestling it between the valley of her tits. The palm of my right hand caresses the smooth skin of her thigh, finally coming to rest on her delicate waist.

“That gonna buy me a private dance, Geeks?” I murmur above the music. The sultry mix only adds to the tension brewing between us.

I hate her, hate her family, despise everything they represent. How they exist in their happy worlds while I was cast away to suffer for actions I wasn’t even born to witness.

The Hollow Boys made it out unscathed, and I was left to bear the scars.

But I’d like to do more filthy things to Phi’s body. Fuck her until her last name didn’t matter, and when I was done, she’d beg me to do it all over again. My cock swells at the thought, pressing between us as my grip tightens on her side.

Through the haze of desire, she must realize I hold the power in this moment because the initial shock on her face quickly gives way to the vixen. Her sharp black nails dig into my forearms, her legs tightening around me, pulling me closer in silent invitation for more.

As her lips hover just inches from mine, a wicked grin twists her lips.

“A hundred bucks wouldn’t buy my left toe.” She playfully flicks her tongue across my bottom lip before leaning back. Her pointed red heel comes between us, pressing against my chest and shoving me back. “Nice try, Loner.”

“Interesting.” I tilt my head, smirking. “I got to fuck that pussy for free.”

Phi’s eyes narrow to vicious slits, a familiar fire blazing in those green eyes. I brace for whatever is about to spew from those lips. Her mouth opens, probably to say something vile that would piss me off, but then it happens.

Her face pales, the alcohol finally setting in.

I’m pretty much an expert on the actions of inebriated people, and I know she’s a second away from throwing up all over the marble countertop.

“I’m gonna throw up,” she confirms, slurring a little, weak.

I roll my eyes, gritting my teeth, but deep down, I know I’m not leaving her like this.

This is still Phi, and the last thing I want is to help her out.

But I’m not an asshole.

I’m just not gonna be happy about this.

“Of course you are,” I mutter.

Without a second thought, I scoop her up, one arm under her knees, the other braced behind her back. Her head lolls against my chest, breath shallow, and for a second, she’s quiet, and that might be the most unsettling part.

Seraphina Van Doren, who never shuts up, has gone quiet.

The loud music, the throngs of people, it all feels like background noise as I carry her through the chaos, heading for the stairs. A few people drunkenly stare as I pass, but I couldn’t care less.

I’ve got one goal: get her out of here before she pukes on someone’s $500 sneakers.

When we reach the top of the stairs, I nudge her door open with my foot and step inside. It’s dark, but not enough that I can’t see her bed. Gently, softer than she deserves, I lower her down.

Phi sinks into the mattress, and she groans softly, fighting the spins.

Karma for my fucking car.

At first, I click the lamp on her bedside table on to look for a water bottle she may have in here, but then I get distracted by the bookcase just to my left. My brows furrow as I scan the spines before I pluck one from the rows.

Sticky notes mark certain pages, her messy handwriting adorning each one.

I think there are two different people existing in Phi’s body.

I slide Astrophysics for People in a Hurry back into her bookcase, careful not to disturb the stacks of paper on top of it. Shaking my head, I pick up a tiny LEGO car, twirling it in my hands.

There’s the vixen the world sees, all tight leather pants and barely there tops, a walking challenge with a razor-sharp tongue.

But then there’s this—this space that belongs to the girl I met at the water tower. The one who has science fair medals displayed above her desk and posters on the wall that say various things from wibbly wobbly timey wimey to Science and everyday life cannot and should not be separated.

So the queen of the Springs is a nerd. That night hadn’t been a fluke of panic about the heights.

It was something real.

I step back from the shelves, pocketing the LEGO car, about to leave her to suffer in peace, when her voice breaks through the silence.

“You’re not allowed in here,” Phi mutters, a little laugh falling from her lips as she rolls onto her back. “Foster brother is so pushing it, by the way. You’re basically a roach. An infestation.”

I roll my eyes at her drunk words, even hammered she hates me.

Good to know.

“Yeah, I’m leaving,” I say, heading toward the door. “Don’t need your guard dog barking when he finds me in here.”

The last thing I want or need is to fight an intoxicated Reign Van Doren.

I’m about to leave when her voice drags me back, soft and slurred, like she’s saying something she didn’t plan to. “They aren’t even my real family. Did you know that?”

It’s not a secret. Everyone knows she’s adopted. It’s not like this family ever tried to hide it. But I didn’t expect her to bring it up now, while she’s half-sprawled across her bed, too drunk to hold up her usual walls.

“Yeah,” I breathe out slowly. “I know you’re adopted.”

“That’s why I don’t belong.” She lets out a little huff of air. “I don’t belong, and no one else can see that I’m all alone.”

I stop at the door, hand on the frame. Her voice has that drunk, half-lucid honesty. The kind that stings because you know it’s coming from somewhere real.

Alone? What the fuck would she know about being alone?

I turn, leaning on the doorframe with my arms crossed. “You’re surrounded by at least two people at any given moment. You’re the antonym of alone.”

Phi lets out a little hiccup, cherry-red hair a mess in her face as she curls around a pillow, her eyes shut as she rambles, “You’ve got no clue what it’s like to be in a room full of people and know that none of them know you. None of them see you. That’s loneliness.”

“Being alone is just part of the deal, princess,” I grunt, tone clipped. “You get used to it.”

I grit my teeth, forcing my expression to stay hard, forcing myself not to give a shit about the girl unraveling in front of me. She’s nothing but a cyclone of complications I don’t need.

She’s alone. Great. So are a lot of people. So am I.

It doesn’t make her any less of a spoiled, entitled Van Doren, floating through life like she owns the world while I’ve clawed through mine just to stay afloat.

But this crack in her armor, it makes me curious. Curious enough to stand here a little longer, watching her like some puzzle I can’t solve.

It doesn’t make me like her.

“I know,” she mutters, her words soft, slipping through the haze of alcohol as she lets out a small, tired yawn. Her lips curve into a faint, lopsided smile, almost playful. “It’s entropy.”

Oh, this is bound to be good.

My brows furrow as I ask, “What the hell is that?”

Her eyes flutter open, half-lidded, the lashes brushing against her cheeks as she stares up at the ceiling, lost in some drunken train of thought.

“The natural state of things. Everything falls into disorder over time. That’s what the universe does—it moves toward chaos. You get used to the fact that nothing stays in place. Being alone is just part of the breakdown. Part of the disorder we all fall into eventually.”

Phi’s face is bathed in the dim light spilling from her lamp, looking softer than I’ve ever seen her. There is no guard up.

Just a drunk girl rambling on about the universe and what it means.

I watch her, really watch her as she talks. Her shoulders are tense, her body curled in like she’s trying to make herself smaller, less noticeable.

It’s a stark contrast to the girl who commands every room she walks into, all fire and sharp edges. Now, though, she looks like she’s trying to disappear.

This isn’t the girl who thrives on chaos. This is someone drowning in it.

“It’s the same for us,” she continues, her words slurring a little now, heavy with exhaustion. “You start out thinking you’re supposed to belong somewhere, supposed to fit. But eventually, you realize that some of us, we’re just meant to be out there on our own. Drifting. Collapsing into chaos, like everything else in the universe. Alone doesn’t hurt after a while. It’s just what’s left.”

I pause at the doorway, watching her for longer than I ever wanted to, watching her breathing steady.

Her pain, it isn’t loud.

It’s not the kind that screams for attention. It’s the quiet kind, the kind that gnaws at you in the middle of the night when the world goes silent and there’s no one left to distract you from it. It’s a slow, suffocating ache, a weight that carves itself into bone.

It’s the kind I know and know well.

It leaves scars you can’t see.

A flicker of understanding passes through me, a sliver of middle ground bridging between us. But it’s not enough to cross the gap our history has created.

There is a weird, heavy atmosphere that’s settled between us. It’s not filled with tension or contempt. It feels gentle, a warm blanket on a winter night.

Phi’s completely still, her red hair spread out like a fiery halo against the pillow as sleep calls her name, pulling her further and further from consciousness.

“I hate science,” I mutter, thinking she’s finally out.

But a little laugh falls from her mouth, her voice following me out of her room.

“Blasphemy.”