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

Phi

December 1

“Where is Christmas at this year?”

“My place,” Nora mumbles, tossing a grape into the air as we walk down the hall, effortlessly catching it in her mouth. “Mom’s been obsessing over decorations for days now. It’s getting concerning. She made Dad move the tree at least four times.”

I snort out a laugh, hiking my book bag up higher on my shoulder. The halls of Hollow Heights are buzzing with people. The end of the semester is approaching, and everyone’s panic about finals is at an all-time high.

“Fuck yes,” Reign groans, tossing an arm lazily around Nora’s shoulder as we wind down the curved stone staircase. “Your dad makes the fucking best pumpkin pie.”

“Ew.”

The word comes out in perfect sync from me and Atlas, a mischievous smirk on our faces as we bump our fists together. The best part about pumpkin pie is never eating it. Or the whipped cream on top—that’s always a given.

“Styx Bridge the hour before, yeah?” Nora asks. “Do we still do pre-festivity smoke sessions or…?”

I nod. “Fuck yes. It’s my favorite part of the holidays. Stoned and surrounded by food.”

Winter has arrived in Ponderosa Springs, and I am so fucking upset about it. I hate the cold with every fiber of my being. I just want to be in a place where it’s summer all year long.

The only good thing about the temperature dropping is being able to covertly wear Jude’s hoodies without anyone questioning it. I’ve got a thing for showing as much skin as possible, but now that the sky constantly looks ready to pour down snow, it’s not as noticeable.

It doesn’t hurt that we share a similar style, so the clothes I steal like some thief in the night could easily pass as mine.NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

The smell of him consumes me. His Sopula hoodie is drenched in his scent. It makes not being able to touch him in public easier. Makes the days pass by faster, so by the time night rolls around and we climb into each other’s beds, it feels like we haven’t been apart that long.

At school, we only have chemistry together, and he might be the reason I fail it because he fucking loves to shove his hand up my skirt during class. How am I supposed to focus on atomic structure when he’s determined to make me come on his fingers?

Being caught together—with our hands to ourselves, obviously—has gotten a little better now that he’s gotten closer to Ezra and the rest of the guys. He and Reign are still two wary dogs walking around each other, waiting for the other to bite, but I definitely caught them playing Call of Duty together a few nights ago.

We’re able to sneak off during the weekends, spending our days at the water tower or a few towns over, but it’s fucking exhausting. Truthfully, I hate having to hide him, to hide this.

All Rook Van Doren has ever wanted for me is to see me happy, and Jude Sinclair? He makes me so fucking happy.

But every time I think of telling my family, of screaming that Jude isn’t his father’s son, it sends me into a spiral. They’ve accepted him enough for the tension to ease, but that doesn’t mean they’d be okay with me dating him.

Which is basically what we are doing.

Dating. Secretly, but it still counts.

Which makes Jude Sinclair…? The first boyfriend I’ve ever had.

“Phi, you coming out tonight?”

“What? Oh,” I mutter, blinking as Nora’s voice pulls me out of my brain fog. “No. I gotta cram for my calculus final.”

“Where have you been lately, dude? It’s like you’ve disappeared.” Atlas bumps me with his hip as we hit the bottom level of the Valewood building, one of the many sections of the Bursley District.

“School, mostly.” I shrug, the lie slipping from my tongue easily. “I’ll come out next weekend after finals. We can celebrate, I promise.”

The four of us separate as the cold air from outside hits our faces. Reign’s got soccer, Atlas and Nora have another class, I think, and I’m thankfully finished today.

Which means I’m going to scale my balcony and wrap myself in Jude’s blankets while we study and he tries to distract me with his tongue ring.

That’s what is going through my brain as I walk across the grounds of Hollow Heights toward the parking lot. Time seems to slow during the winters here, trapping everyone and everything in a tiny gothic snow globe.

Just as I turn the corner, my feet hitting the asphalt of the student lot, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it from my pocket, expecting a message from Jude, but instead, my brows furrow in confusion.

Unknown

We aren’t done until I say we are.

What the fuck?

My thumbs fly across the screen.

Me

Who the hell is this?

I stare down at the screen, waiting for a response, until I hear a familiar voice.

“Come on, Sin,” Tex Matthews grunts. “You still got the hookup. Do us a solid and front us a couple of G’s.”

Jude hates being called Sin.

My heart clenches as I look at Jude leaning against the side of his car, still somehow towering over Tex and his wide receiver, Ryker Bellows. Everything about Jude is so fucking big. His palm is literally the size of my face.

Which is why I know that he’s more than capable of handling these two idiots. Jude can fight—he killed someone with his bare hands.

I’m not worried about him physically.

But if a fight were to break out right now, I know the blame would fall squarely on Jude’s shoulders. The town adores Tex—the golden boy, the football star—and they’d never see him as the instigator.

I don’t want him to face any more backlash from this town. A town that doesn’t know the truth of his past, that only sees him as Jude “Sin” Sinclair, a town that would rather see him as a monster than a victim of circumstance.

They don’t understand him the way I do.

They don’t see the Loner. None of them see J.

“Don’t sell anymore, Matthews. Get your shit somewhere else,” Jude breathes, the conversation getting clearer the closer I get, still unnoticed by all parties.

Tex slaps a hand on Jude’s shoulder, and my jaw feels like it might break with how hard I’m grinding my molars.

Jude hates being touched by random people. I’ve spent hours trailing my fingers through those faded gold locks while he talks about it.

More than that? I fucking hate when people touch him.

“What? Daddy killing himself with those chemicals finally eating at your conscience, Sinclair?”

Oh fuck.

Anger radiates off J in waves, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, knuckles white. It’s a stance I’ve seen before, one that screams he’s on the edge of losing his shit.

Please walk away. Please walk away.

I silently plead, willing Tex to just leave him alone. But he doesn’t move, and neither does J.

Without warning, Jude slams his fist into Tex’s nose, a stream of blood spraying into the air, and that’s when my feet move of their own volition.

“Shit,” I hiss, dropping my book bag to the ground with a thud.

My head is completely empty. I’m not thinking about the crowd of people in the parking lot or the fact my aunt is the dean of this school. None of that matters as I close the distance between me and the fight that’s breaking out just in front of me, my heart pounding in sync with the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

If a stranger asks, I’ll say I was looking out for my foster brother. If Atlas, Nora, or Reign probe for answers, I’ll say I was already itching to beat the shit out of Tex.

I will lie.

Whatever I need to do to deflect from the fact the only reason I’m barreling toward this fight is to protect Jude. Not because of some legal will that put him in my house or guilt but because I care about him.

I won’t let him be blamed for anything else.

Not anymore.

“Phi?”

I think it’s Jude’s voice, but I can’t be sure because in the next breath, Ryker’s fist collides with my not-really-my-boyfriend’s gut, and my vision blazes red.

This is gonna hurt like a bitch.

“How’re these tiny weapons of mass destruction, vicious thing.”

Jude lifts the ice pack up from my hand, brushing his lips across my swollen knuckles. His dark eyes peer down at me, searching my face for the eightieth time for any injuries. My head is in his lap, his hand resting on my stomach as I rest a bag of frozen peas on his knuckles,

Ryker and Tex will be playing with broken noses and busted lips this Friday, but surprisingly, Jude’s only injury is a little cut on his eyebrow. The moment my fist slammed into Ryker’s nose, Jude went from fight mode to protection mode.

His arms had curled around my waist, pulling me from the chaos, cursing me over and over for getting involved, for getting hurt.

“I’ll survive.” I shrug.

After our impromptu brawl on the school grounds, we were all sent to the dean’s office to face Aunt Lyra’s wrath, forced to sit through an awkward interrogation that felt more like a trial than a family discussion.

The football players didn’t want to miss their next game due to disciplinary actions, so we settled on a misunderstanding.

Then, we were all sent home to deal with our parents.

Now, I don’t want to brag or anything, but when I’d told Dad I broke a guy’s nose, he’d definitely high-fived me behind Mom’s back. It was tense for a bit, for all of ten minutes, before I’d told them Jude was just defending me.

I also didn’t miss Mom’s little smile after, as if it was confirmation that we’d finally accepted Jude into the fold of our lives. The other day, I caught him helping Mom with the dishes, and he can deny it all he wants, but I know he’s warming up to my parents. To everyone, he and to Scout’s twin sister, Stella Hawthorne have become friends after bonding over their shared fascination of jellyfish at last Sunday dinner.

It’s not perfect by any means, but…we are getting further from Jude being an outcast and closer to him being a part of this world my family created.

Which falsely gives me some kinda hope that maybe…maybe one day, the universe Jude and I have created doesn’t have to be a secret forever.

“Wasn’t expecting to be backed up, but hey, I’ll take it,” Jude scoffs, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk as he leans back against the headboard of my bed.

“Welcome to the Heathens Club,” I murmur, as the familiar comfort of my room envelops us.

“When the fuck did I start paying for that membership?”

“Your acceptance was solidified the moment my dad and uncles helped us dispose of a dead body with your DNA on it. Today’s little brawl was just part of the benefit package.”

I can’t help but grin as he buries his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply as if he’s memorizing my scent. He peppers kisses along my collarbone, trailing up my throat and across my cheeks, his lips intoxicating in a way that can only be Jude.

Finally, he captures my mouth, a slow, lingering kiss that feels like a secret. It’s electric, every nerve in my body lighting up, and for that fleeting moment, the chaos of the outside world fades away, leaving only the two of us.

“Don’t do that again, Phi,” he murmurs against my mouth, playfully nipping at my bottom lip. “I would’ve been fine. I’ve fought off worse.”

I cradle his face in my hands, tracing the sharp contours of his jaw. “You deserved to be protected, Jude. I didn’t want anyone to blame you.”

He leans into my touch, pressing a soft kiss to my palm. “So sweet for me.”

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll deny it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I sit up gently, crawling up the length of his body and settling into his lap. My fingers rake through his soft hair.

“Let’s go to Stanford together.”

His eyebrow arches. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, me and you. We survive this year, we keep this a secret. Then, before we leave, we drop the bomb and dip to California.” I grin, giving a little shrug. “Seems like the perfect plan to me.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, Seraphina Van Doren.”

With practiced confidence, his fingers slip behind my neck, gripping the skin there before tilting my face to meet his.

“But what a way to fucking go,” he whispers before his mouth finds mine.

The kiss starts off soft and curious, as if we’re both savoring this moment. The coolness of his metal ring presses against my skin at the nape of my neck as we taste one another, our breaths mingling. His strong fingers tangle in my hair, pulling gently, urging me to surrender.

We move like we already know what the other needs. As if we’ve done this a hundred times over.

It’s not hide-and-seek. More like lost and found. A long-awaited hello for lips who’d before said goodbye.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he pants into my mouth, hands palming my ass, helping me rock against him.

My throat tightens, ribs squeezing my lungs. A fire ignites within me, an overwhelming desire that pulses through my veins. All rational thought dissipates, replaced by a raw need to stay in this moment with him.

“Everything,” I mutter with a shake of my head, never looking away from his dark eyes. “I want everything.”

I roll my hips across the unmistakable outline in his jeans, feeling the rough material drag across the seam of my leggings.

“Everything,” Jude breathes just before our lips collide again.

It’s not just desire—it’s desperation, a feverish need to be as close as possible. Jude’s grip tightens on my hips, guiding me as I grind against him with more urgency.

The friction is electric, sending shivers down my spine as his hands slip beneath the hem of my hoodie, fingers splaying across the small of my back. I arch into his touch, my body instinctively seeking more of his warmth.

His body fits against mine like a puzzle piece, every hard contour melding perfectly with my softness. Heat radiates from him, sending sparks skimming along my skin, igniting a fire that spreads from my core to my limbs.

I crave him, every inch of him, like a drug I never want to quit.

Jude’s lips trail down my neck, leaving a burning path in their wake. His hands grasp my hips, fingers digging into my flesh as he grinds against me. I slide my hands under his shirt, raking over the hard planes of his abdomen before gliding up to caress his chest. Breaking our kiss, I lean in to nip at his earlobe.

“Take this off,” I whisper.

With a smirk, Jude complies, sitting up, reaching behind his neck, and tugging it over his head. I drink in the sight of his bare chest, sculpted muscle under smooth, pale skin. Reaching out, I trail my fingers over the black ink decorating his body, each tattoo a map of his past.

This man is the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Charon’s obol,” I mutter, picking up the gold medallion necklace on his chest. “It’s the way to pay the ferryman across the Styx so you⁠—”

“So I can find my way home if I ever get lost,” he finishes, bumping his nose against mine.

“To me,” I correct, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, “You buy your way back to me, Loner.”

“To you, Geeks.”

A deep growl rumbles in Jude’s throat as my hands slide down to the waistband of his jeans. I deftly undo the button and zipper, feeling the thrill of anticipation spike through me.

“Let’s see if you can be quiet,” I mutter, working my way down his body until I’m kneeling between his strong thighs.

The smirk on my face grows as I jerk at the material clinging to his hips, watching his teeth sink into his lower lip. When we get them down far enough for his cock to be exposed, the aching length smacks against his toned stomach.

Jude’s eyes darken as his gaze flickers. “You’re such a fucking brat⁠—”

His words are cut off by a quiet groan as my tongue flicks the head of his cock, savoring the taste of him. I arch my brow, curling my hand around the base of him, watching his hips buck into my touch.

“You were saying?” I tease, a mischievous grin spreading across my lips.

Jude lets out a soft huff of air, shaking his head at me, his gaze intense as I wrap my lips around the tip of his cock, slowly taking more of him into my mouth.

I keep my eyes locked on his, watching his jaw tighten and the veins in his neck pop, cording up like roots on a tree. One large hand finds its way to the back of my head, fingers tightening in my hair as I work my way down his length.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, pleasure etched across his features as I draw him deeper into my mouth.

I want to pull every ounce of pleasure from his body. I want him struggling to stay quiet, fighting to maintain control. I want him weak for me because I feel undeniably soft for him.

I stretch my jaw wide, taking him deeper, letting him stretch my mouth open with his size. I already know there’s no way to fit all of him in my throat, so I grip the base with my hand, stroking what I can’t reach.

My head begins to bob, my tongue swirling around the sensitive tip every time I come up, bouncing my mouth over him again and again. I drink down the precum that leaks from him, savoring the taste.

“What a good fucking girl, choking on my cock. Spread that red lipstick all over me. Yeah, just like that, sweetheart.” He groans huskily, hips thrusting involuntarily as he struggles to hold back from fucking my throat.

Slowly, I trail my tongue down the length of him before taking him in again, this time deeper. Jude’s fingers dig into the sheets, his body tensed with pent-up desire.

I pull back, keeping my hand stroking his impossibly hard length, feeling him pulse beneath my grip as I leave open-mouthed kisses on his hips. The red lipstick kisses decorate his pale skin, marking his body as I tighten my grip around him.

Licking my way back up his length, I take him into my mouth once more. This time, I bob my head faster, harder, my hand pumping the base as spit drips from my lips, making it easier to fuck him with my hand. I take him as deep as I can, gagging quietly, watching Jude fist the comforter, the only thing holding him back from thrusting himself deeper into my waiting mouth.

“Fuck this,” he grunts, snatching my hair to pull me off his cock, the lust in his eyes burning brighter than ever.

I release him with a pop, letting him pull me up his body. His strong arms wrap around me as his lips crash against mine. The kiss is demanding, hungry, fueled by the arousal coursing through our veins.

His hands grip my hips, fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to leave bruises. With a grunt, he flips us over, pinning me against the mattress, his hard body pressing down on me.

“All of this needs to come off. Right now.”

I laugh as I tug my hoodie over my head, and we fumble with my leggings, the fabric clinging stubbornly to my legs. Before I can fully unclip my bra, his large hands spread across my ribs, head dipping down to capture a nipple between his lips. I arch into him with a gasp, pleasure shooting through me as his tongue swirls around the sensitive nub.

My hands grasp at his back, nails digging in, urging him on. He kisses his way across my chest, giving the other breast equal attention. I whimper and squirm beneath him, his warm breath leaving goose bumps in its wake.

Heat floods between my thighs as his fingers shove my panties to the side, letting me feel his slick cock, wet with my saliva, pressing against my soaked core. He rocks his body against mine, teasing my entrance but holding back, just out of reach.

“Jude, please,” I whine, struggling to keep my voice down, knowing that at any moment, someone could burst in here.

Usually we fuck in his car or mine, somewhere that doesn’t have the possibility of ruining our secret, but I want him so fucking badly that I couldn’t care less at this point. Every single inch of my body aches for him.

“Be quiet for me, baby. Spread your legs and let me use this tight, forbidden little pussy,” he grunts into my skin, his cock pushing through my slick folds, sinking into my tight walls.

Every time, there’s an initial pain, a delicious stretch echoing through me as he works his full length into me.

“You’re always so tight. So fucking good. God, I love this cunt.”

With a groan, Jude buries his cock deep inside me, his hips driving into mine with a possessive thrust. Each movement sends shivers of pleasure coursing through my bones, and I clench around him, feeling him touch places only he has ever reached. His hands grip my thighs, pinning me in place as he angles his hips to hit that sweet spot inside me.

“That’s it,” I hiss, biting my lip to suppress my moans. “Harder.”

Jude obliges, picking up the pace until our bodies collide in a symphony of skin-on-skin contact.

The sounds of our quiet grunts and gasps mingle with the rustling of the sheets, creating an intimate melody that envelops us, drowning out the world outside.

A moan escapes my lips, a little too loud for comfort.

“Shhh, careful, baby. We can’t let anyone know how much you love taking my dick,” Jude whispers, his voice low and gravelly. “You wanna come, don’t you? You want me to make you shatter on my cock? You gotta be quiet for me, then. Just let me fuck you, baby.”

I nod frantically, biting down harder on my lip. Jude knows exactly how to push me to the edge, and I’m teetering on the brink. His fingers dig into my thighs while his other hand rests firmly on my stomach, holding me in place as he drives into me relentlessly.

My hand reaches back, grasping one of the bars on my headboard, desperate to keep it from slamming into the wall as I buck my hips up against his, urging him to fuck me harder.

“Jude, Jude, I…” I pant, the pleasure building in my core like a tidal wave ready to crash.

“Shit,” he mutters through gritted teeth, and then suddenly, his hand shoots up to cover my mouth.

The feel of his hand over my lips only heightens the sensations coursing through my body, and I can feel my orgasm creeping closer, ready to explode at any moment. Jude’s hips continue to thrust into mine, his breathing ragged against my ear. Heat pools between my thighs, my body trembling with anticipation.

“That’s it,” he grunts, his voice strained. “You’re so fucking close, aren’t you? You want me to make you come?”

His other hand slides down between our bodies, searching for my clit. His calloused fingers flick expertly over the sensitive bud as he drives in and out of me, bringing me closer to the edge with each stroke.

I can’t take it anymore. I bite down on Jude’s hand, muffling my scream as I come undone. My walls clench around him, milking his length as my orgasm consumes me, racking through my body.

The pleasure is blinding, coursing through every nerve ending, igniting a fire that spreads from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes. My hips buck instinctively, desperate for more friction, more of him. I feel like I’m soaring, weightless, as if the world has fallen away, leaving only Jude and the overwhelming ecstasy that binds us together.

His hand remains over my mouth, stifling my cries, and I can feel the heat radiating from him as he watches me unravel beneath him, his dark eyes filled with a mix of awe and primal hunger. He groans softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and sending another pulse of pleasure through me, intensifying the aftershocks of my release.

“That’s it, squeeze my cock, sweetheart. Fuck, fuck, Phi,” he pants, his breath hot against my neck as he uses my body to find his release.

I feel his hips stutter as his orgasm washes over him, and he holds himself deep inside me, throbbing against my sensitive walls. Slowly, his grip on my thighs and my mouth loosens, allowing me to gasp for air, our chests heaving in unison.

When it’s just us, like this, either lost in pleasure or settled with one another, I feel like nothing can touch this. We exist in a world of our own making—a secret garden of intimacy and raw emotion that no one else can access.

It’s all ours, and no one can take it from us.

I think I’ve been waiting my entire life for Jude Sinclair.

Even when we hated each other, there was always this invisible force between us, a pull I couldn’t shake, no matter how hard I tried. Not a chain, not a shackle—more like a delicate thread spun between us, impossibly thin but somehow unbreakable.

We’ve known each other our entire lives, grown up in the same small town since we were babies. We sat in the same classrooms in middle school, and I even had a crush on his best friend once.

But it wasn’t until after his father’s death, when the weight on my own shoulders felt unbearable, that we collided one random night at a water tower.

This doesn’t feel like a mere human experience or some fleeting emotion.

It feels cosmic. Fated.

Like Jude and I were woven into the very fabric of the universe itself. As if, long before we were born, we were already written into each other’s stories. Every decision, every path, every wrong turn—it all led us here, to this moment.

It’s as if the atoms making up every inch of his soul once belonged to the same distant star that birthed me. Like particles that drifted apart billions of years ago have found a way to reunite in the form of two people.

Nothing anyone could’ve done would have been able to keep us from each other.

Not even us.