I wanted to share Incendiary's prologue with you. Text is subject to change as this is UNCORRECTED copy. Sloane is 16 years old in this scene. I hope it helps you to understand our badass rocker a little better.
Kat
Prologue
Sloane
Waves roll onto the sand, the rush of the water
energizing me and soothing away my disappointment over Dad’s sudden decision to
have only Steffie and I spend the day on the yacht with him. Maitland and Adam
understand, and Quint is surly anyway, so I’m not taking his annoyance
personal.
“Fuck, man, I got up for nothing!”
“Yeah, well, dude. Life happens. Deal with it or suck
my dick.”
He decided to deal with it.
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On the bright side, I won’t have to bother with Kiln
and his death glares or Jaeger and his superiority. It’ll just be me, Dad, and
Steffie. I can live with that. Steffie is anxious to hear the song I wrote. Me
and the guys have been in the studio at home, for days, working on the exact
melody for it.
We’ve been putting the room Dad converted into the
studio—at Mom’s urging—to good use. We spend most of our spare time in there. I
say most because we have school and we have dicks that need attention from more
than just self-stimulation.
Last weekend, we invited a few girls over to listen to
one of our sessions. Somehow, it turned into…an orgy. My face heats up every
time I think of it. It was the best fucking thing ever, but I’d never fucked in
front of another dude nor had I ever fucked more than one girl in the span of
several hours.
I want a repeat. Instead, we’re at our beach house for
this weekend.
“Sloane!”
I halt at the sound of my sister’s voice. Turning, I
grin when I see her at a dead run, her hair flying. She has a skirt thing
around her one-piece bathing suit. I think she calls it a sarong, but I’m not
into girls’ fashions, so I’m not sure.
Reaching me, she looks me up and down and makes a
face.
I know her problem, so I just fold my arms and smirk.
“Speedos, Slo? Like, really? Who wants to see the
imprint of your junk?”
“You’d be surprised,” I retort.
“Uh, disgusting. You’re sixteen. Not some badass
rocker—“
“Yet,” I interrupt. If I have my way, I’ll soon be a
very badass rocker. Me and the guys already have the name for our band. It’s a
fucking spaz-ass name. Phoenix Rising.
Fire and flames are already in my head, shooting high
into the air, as I ascend from a stage and girls are screaming my name. I jerk
off to those thoughts and come all over the place when I imagine how much girls
will love and adore me.
“I can still be your manager, right?”
“Who else would we have?” I ask in all seriousness.
Steffie is the one who gifted me with my first guitar.
I still have it, even though I’ve moved on to lead and rhythm. I’ll always love
it, and her, for helping me to find my talent.
“Can you imagine?” she whispers. “My baby brother and
his band rising up like the Phoenix. In spite of Daddy.”
“Why’d you have to go and ruin my fucking day, Stef?”
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My father, the great Rand Mason, wants his sons on the
same team. He doesn’t doubt my talent but since Kiln is an asshead and Jaeger
is an asslicker, he wants us all to work together. As in they play some type of
role in my band, behind the scenes.
Why the fuck would I allow that? We may be related
because of his blood, but we fucking despise each other. They’d sabotage me,
before they’d do anything else.
Dad has sworn to not lift one finger to help us. He
has contacts coming out the ass. Entertainment, politics, business. You name
it, he has it.
At one time, my father could do no wrong. Ever since
he decided to connect with his children from his first marriage, he’s changed.
As a result, I’ve changed, too.
A growl grabs my attention. The sound goes off again.
I realize it’s Steffie’s stomach. I hoot with laughter.
“I’m hungry,” Steffie mumbles, her face reddening.
“Yeah, well, I’m not.” More like hung over, but she
doesn’t have to know that. She’d disapprove and cluck in disappointment.
I dislike disappointing my sister almost as much as I
hate doing it to my mother.
Yawning, I scratch my chest.
She scrunches her nose.
“What?”
“You need to…I don’t know…you look older,” she
complains. “My friends like you.”
Some of them really like me and are giving me quite
the education on the art of fucking. This is a far cry from the night, last
year, that I lost my virginity. A fucking disaster from start to finish.
I lift my arm and flex my biceps, earning an eye roll.
“God, can you get a little more modest?” she says with
sarcasm.
“Probably not,” I retort. “I can flex my dick, too.
Wanna see?”
“You’re such a fucking perve, Slo!” she yells. “A
gross one at that.” Her blush spreads down her neck and along the modest line
of the scooped top of her bathing suit.
I’d bet my fucking inheritance that Steffie’s a
virgin.
“F.I.O.M. alert,” she chirps, biting down on her lip.
Father in our midst.
Dad is striding towards us, dressed in swimming
trunks, his chest bare. He still has a decent body, and doesn’t mind showing it
off.
“You two ready to spend your day with me?” he asks in
greeting, looking between the two of us.
Steffie sidles closer to me. She can handle Kiln and
Jaeger, but she’s scared shitless of Dad. I’ve always wondered why.
“Sloane, your mother needs to talk to you for a few
minutes. Meet Stefanie and me at the dock. We’ll be waiting on the yacht for
you, so there’s no need to rush.”
“Mom needs to talk to me?” I ask skeptically.
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Mom is the one who woke me up this morning, knowing
I’d dismissed my alarm clock, as usual. It stands to reason if she’d had
anything to say, she would’ve told me then.
“Yes, son. She needs to talk to you. Don’t keep her
waiting.”
Of course not. My father is over-the-top everything
where my mother is concerned. If she’s not happy, no one is. I’ve heard Adam’s
dad joke that if all’s right with the wife, then all’s right with life. But,
fuck, there’s them and then there’s Rand and Bryn Mason.
If Mom wants a fucking cloud from the sky, Dad will
find a way to lasso that motherfucker and give it to her. It’s some serious
shit. Like, fucking scary serious.
As in if you hurt my wife, I’ll take your life.
Of course, as Mom’s one and only child, I’m special,
too. But Dad’s still Dad. The concessions he makes for Mom, he’ll do for no one
else. Which means I’m either going to have to claw my way to the top of the
music world or give in to Dad’s demands with Kiln and Jaeger.
Working my ass off, it is.
I fucking hate those jealous, overbearing, sadistic
motherfuckers. Kiln’s an overgrown ape. If I hadn’t started to bulk up, he
probably would’ve killed me by now.
“Sloane!”
Irritation shoots through me at Dad’s peeved tone.
Steffie is rigid, her eyes pleading for my rescue. “Okay, Dad. I’m going.
C’mon, Stef,” I say casually. “Walk there with me. While I’m talking to Mom,
run up to my room and grab my phone.”
I really did forget it. Now, I’m happy about that. It
gives me the excuse I need to bring my sister with me.
Her brow smoothens and she beams a smile my way.
Steffie knows how to make me feel as if I’m a hero. It’s a good feeling.
There’s a sense of satisfaction, as if I’ve earned something, instead of having
everything handed to me.
That’s one reason I don’t give a fuck that Dad won’t
help me and the guys with our band. When I get to the top, it’ll be because of
the music I love to create. That we all love. We won’t become superstars
because we’re entitled, rich boys with connections out the ass.
And we will become world-famous. We’re fucking awesome
and we have a pact to succeed.
I’m shoved to the ground without warning. Landing on
my ass, I stare at my father, stunned. He’s never once put his hands on me. He
can be a complete dick, but he’s never been physically abusive.
Steffie flinches and steps back, her face going pale.
I’m trying to process her reaction, process my
father’s actions, when he grabs me by my hair and drags me to my knees.
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“Your mother wants to talk to you,” he repeats on a
snarl. “Get the fuck to her. It’s still early and I have to get this over with.
Steffie stays with me.”
The only reason my father is manhandling me is because
he’s stunned the fuck out of me. I’m already over six feet, taller than he is.
I can stomp him into the fucking ground if I choose.
But I don’t choose. Because I don’t know what the fuck
is going on. Has Dad hit the blunts we have stashed in my room?
I get to my feet. “Fine, Dad.” Anger hardens my voice.
I’m not the most level-headed person. I’m so fucking furious right now, I want
to pound on my chest like a gorilla about to charge. “I won’t be long,
Stefanie.”
“W-wait, Sloane.”
Enraged, I ignore Steffie’s plea. Black and red paints
my vision. Red for my father’s fucking blood, and black for the carrion that
will pick apart his fucking carcass. He hit me? He fucking hit me!
It isn’t until I near the house, and my temper is
calming that I think of Steffie’s attitude. Her mom’s bitterness. Kiln’s
viciousness.
Did my dad abuse them?
No way. Fucking impossible. Dad…he wouldn’t do that.
No, not my father. My father has always revered my
mother and me. He’s respected and connected.
A chill sweeps through me as I reach our veranda. It’s
a balmy, breezy day, certainly not fucking cold enough for these goose bumps to
be rising on me.
Scowling, I open the door to the house. It’s quiet,
with no sign of anyone waiting to see me. The guys are upstairs, dead to the
world since Dad changed his mind about them coming. Kiln is probably just
rising from the toilet that I swear he sleeps in. Motherfucker just cavorts in
shit. Abby, my eighteen-year-old aunt, is still out, on the other side of the
island, fucking the waiter she’s having an affair with.
My granddad was a dirty old fuck, but Abby’s mother
was a money-grubbing cunt.
“Mom!” I call.
As expected, I receive no answer.
I turn to head out the door, but hesitate. If I go to
Mom, I can look Dad in the eye and tell him I checked in with her. If I don’t
go, I’ll have to lie, and there’s a risk he’ll discover that.
Then, we’ll get into a full-on brawl. No fucking way
will I allow another man to put his hands on me, father included.
Stalking to my parents’ bedroom, I knock on the door.
“Come in,” Mom calls.
When I walk into the room, she frowns at me. She’s
wearing a sundress, her hair in a ponytail. Typical mom, prepared for the day,
bright and early.
“Something wrong?” she asks.
“Dad said you needed to talk to me,” I say tightly.
Sweeping her gaze over me, she shakes her head. Fuck,
I’m wearing Speedos. I usually keep my cock less prevalent around Mom.
Heat sweeps through me and my blush must match hers.
“Cindy called. She was looking for you,” she says,
walking to her desk and sitting at it, her back to me. “I did want to talk to
you about that, but it wasn’t so urgent that Rand had to interrupt your day on
the water.”
“Cindy?” I echo. All I fucking need is a date with the
first girl I fucked. “What did she want?” I ask carefully.
“A visit here for dinner with us later tonight.”
“Of course,” I mumble under my breath.
“I thanked her for her desire to catch up, but told
her you had other plans.”
I fold my arms, without commenting, but I’m so fucking
thankful for my mother’s fortitude, I’m sucking my own dick in celebration.
Clearing her throat, she faces me, but only looks at
my face. I can’t remember the last time Mom saw me in less than shorts. She’s
shy and easily flustered.
“I hope that’s okay, son.”
“What? Mom, you’re a lifesaver!” I tell her with
enthusiasm.
Cindy is the daughter of a family friend. Mom wouldn’t
be too happy to hear I stuck my dick in her.
Fuck. Mom would be as unhappy to discover I’m having
sex as I am imagining her finding out.
“Anything else, ma’am?” I say with as much little-boy
charm as I can muster.
Her eyes twinkle at me. She’s on to my bullshit. “Get
to the dock,” she orders.
With a mock salute, I turn on my heel and get the fuck
away from Mom. Note to self: ditch the Speedos after today. I don’t want to so
blatantly offend her sensibilities. The moment I found out it would only be
Dad, Steffie, and me on the boat, I pulled them out. Who knows what hot girl
we’d run into if Dad decided to sail somewhere else for the day. But the
Speedos are supposed to only come out when Mom isn’t with us.
Thoroughly frustrated with both my parents, I make my
way down the beach, heading towards Dad’s boat slip. I growl under my breath
when I get to the curve in the beach that takes me to a little cove. Dad has
pulled out of port already. The asshole has left me! Well, fuck him. The
yacht’s idling in the water and it isn’t that far from shore. I’m a strong
fucking swimmer.
What the fuck do I have to do all day, but recover
from a long-distance swim?
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My unconcerned thoughts float away when I hear Steffie
scream. It takes me a moment, but I realize she’s in the water, bobbing up and
down, struggling to stay afloat.
Jesus. What’s going on? Is she caught in a riptide?
“Steffie!” I yell, wondering if she can hear me.
She’s panicking. She’s fucking panicking, and that’s
going to get her killed.
Just before I dive into the water, I see my Dad. He
gazes at me, at Steffie, and then jumps in.
Let him save her. He’s right there. He’ll get her
out…or get caught in whatever she’s caught in.
Fuck. I have to get to them.
Don’t let anything happen to Dad and Steffie. Don’t.
Don’t. Don’t.
I come up to the surface for air, and doggy paddle,
circling three hundred sixty degrees. Both Dad and Steffie are gone.
Fear and adrenaline surges through me, and I propel
myself through the water. It’s taking me forever to get to them. I’m going to
lose them, and I can’t. Along with my three friends, my father, mother, and
sister, are everything to me.
I have to save them, find them, help them.
Or…Jesus…recover them.
My eyes are stinging and after a few more yards, my
lungs are beginning to tingle. Air. I need air, so I come up again. I’ve been
timed at staying under water one hundred fifty seconds. So I’ve been swimming
for a total of five minutes now and…
Dad. I see him. He’s there, not far from me. I think
he’s trying to drag Steffie up…I think…Holy God, he’s…he’s not helping her up,
he’s holding her under.
Deep down, I know Steffie’s already gone. I know it,
but I don’t want to believe it. I know it, though. I saw the back of the upper
half of her body and it was still, and Dad had his hand on the back of her
head, holding it in place.
Dad killed Steffie.
I barrel into him, and he releases her. She’s sinking.
My sister is going to be lost if I don’t get her…
Steffie, please, don’t leave me. Come back. You have
to.
I grab hold of her body and wrap my arms around her.
She’s still. She’s gone.
Dad grabs hold of me, and I start to panic. He’s going
to drown me, too. But he’s strong and I’m devastated. When he tightens his
grip, I stop caring. Let him do it. I want this water to overcome me and take
me away from this nightmare. If I survive, I’ll have to live without my sister
and live with the knowledge that my Dad, the man I once worshiped, her father
too, is her murderer.
What is going to happen to Mom?
Somehow, he gets me and her back onto the yacht. I’m
standing, then I’m not. I’m sobbing against her body.
Fuck, no, Sloane. Do CPR. You can get her back.
Yes. Right. My Steffie can come back to me. I put to
use the knowledge of the CPR classes Mom insisted I take two years ago. For
five minutes, I work on Steffie, but she refuses to cooperate. She refuses to
breathe again.
I shake her and roar in helplessness.
Without warning, I’m shoved backwards. Dad again. No,
not Dad. The man who was my dad. Now, he’s Steffie’s killer.
“Motherfucker,” I snarl, shooting to my feet and
tackling him. I’m going to fucking kill him, then and only then will I put
myself out of this misery. He doesn’t fucking deserve to live.
Somehow, Dad gets the upper hand and he’s whaling on
my chest and stomach. He’s on his feet and grabs something from the corner of
the deck. It’s a gun, and he aims it at my head.
“Do it,” I order. Hatred is most powerful when it has
been formed from love. I. Despise. Him.
“I should,” he says hoarsely. “For killing your
sister. Jealousy leads to ugly souls.”
No. No. “No,” I utter, knowing what he’s about to do
to me. He’s about to ruin my entire life, pin my sister’s murder on me. “No!”
I stagger to my feet and start for him, but Dad cocks
the gun.
“You do this my way. Or you die. Or go to jail.”
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This is a nightmare. Yes, that’s the problem. I’m
asleep after drinking too much shit, and smoking that blunt, and I’m going to
wake up. When I open my eyes, I’ll still be in my bed. Late in getting to the dock.
Maybe, left behind.
Breathing hard, I squeeze my eyes shut, ignoring the
tears leaking from them. God, please, please. This is a dream. Please. I pop my
eyes open again.
It’s still the same. My sister is still dead at my
feet. My father still has a gun on me.
And I’m still broken, never piecing myself back
together.
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P.S. FROM KAT: I haven't forgotten about Misconduct. Stay tuned for a Digger update.
All My Tomorrows
