Miscreants: Next Generation Natalie Bennett (web ebook reader .TXT) 📖

risk tarnishing their immaculate image, even if it was utter bullshit. I knew first-hand what happened to anyone who did. My sister had paid the price for bringing shame to our family.

She’d thoroughly humiliated them, and whomever it was she’d been married off to, when she purposely got knocked up by a distant cousin. I hadn’t seen her since the day our mom all but dragged from the house by her hair. Blood or not, the family wouldn’t tolerate anything they saw as disrespect.

For those not privy to the real story, my parents simply said she’d taken off to some prestigious university. Was it wrong of me to be pissed at her too? She was the reason I became golden child numero dos.

Our big brother was cemented in at number one. The kiss-ass.

That was another key factor of our world: smarmy blue bloods and their selfish, never-ending schemes.

They fooled people into believing they were good while simultaneously doing whatever was necessary to further their personal agendas. Building familial relations was among them.

We didn’t choose who we wound up with, they chose for us. Just as they did everything else.

Following a predestined path came with the elite lineage that swam through our veins. It didn’t matter how we felt about our elders’ decisions. I couldn’t hate or resent them for it, though. I loved my family as much as I could, considering our peculiar dynamic, but that didn’t make me blind to their sordid ethics.

Gracelyn nudged me with her elbow, interrupting my inner monologue. As I met her eyes, she did some weird brow movement that had me quirking one of mine.

“What?”

“Look,” she mouthed with a subtle nod of her head.

I glanced at the group of guys.

None of them were paying us any attention. I looked back at Gracelyn, and she shrugged and waved her hand as if to say, “Never mind.”

As she and Mel began a debate about one of the newer movies coming out, I adjusted how I was sitting once again. The new position gave me a better view of my mystery guy. He was intently focused on the cellphone in his hand.

Relaxed, and without a smile lifting strong-lined features, his expression was uninviting.

I’d go as far as to say intimidating.

I used his distraction as an opportunity to get a better look at him.

His toned arms had sleeves running all the way down to his fingers, each tattoo a well-placed piece of art on his sun-kissed skin. Every single one of them added to how damn fine he was. He looked like someone you’d find within the pages of a more sophisticated edition of Inked Magazine.

The tat on the nape of his neck was a leviathan cross being grasped by claws or something. I wondered if it held any real significance to him, or if he was like every other hipster douchebag that thought they were edgy. I dropped my gaze back down to his right arm, studying all the different pieces that were visible beneath the sleeve of his T.

There was a cluster of roses like the sole tattoo I had on my upper right shoulder.

His petals were pure black while mine were both purple and magenta.

Gracelyn and Melantha had the same one. Grace’s was part of the sleeve she had on her left arm, while Mel’s was on her hip. Their colors were different as well. Each hue held a different meaning to who we were as people.

A devilish depiction of a weeping Virgin Mary was on his inner forearm. Beneath that was another rose, this one by itself with three numbers weaved into its petals.

On his hand was the face of a woman with skull-like features. I felt like I’d seen this before. Beside her was a word I couldn’t fully make out unless I leaned way too close for either of our comfort.

Not wanting to get caught essentially assaulting him with my eyes, I looked around the shuttle bus, counting how many people were on board and taking in their appearances.

Had I not become enamored with the guy beside me, I would have already done this.

There once was a time I would go to the park just so I could people watch. I liked trying to guess someone’s story, keeping in mind that most appearances were misleading. Everyone had a tale, from the grocery store cashier to the person who delivered the mail.

No one person walked through life the same as another.

There could be similarities and situations we related to, but in the end, we were all individual souls.

The thought had me appraising the gorgeous stranger once more. I was curious about him, more so than I should’ve been considering once we got to the airport, I’d never see him again.

He suddenly glanced away from the screen of his phone.

I pretended I was looking through the window, which probably made me twice as obvious. It was hard to play off that you’d been staring at someone once you made eye contact. He didn’t call me out on it, thank god, but the hint of a smile had his supple lips curving upward.

“Are you guys from the area?” he asked, pocketing his cell.

“Not remotely close.”

“Where are you from?” Mel asked him.

“Not here.” His tone was casual but dismissive.

He didn’t take his eyes off me to answer. Caught up in a tidal wave of blue, his stare seemed to grow that much more intense the longer I looked.

Piercing.

That was a good way to describe it.

He wasn’t staring at me, but into me, as if the armored shell I’d encased myself in was transparent.

Something about him was oddly familiar. I couldn’t pinpoint what, though. I was one thousand percent sure I didn’t know this guy. He came off as someone who would be hard to forget, no