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

Phi

You know what’s harder than scaling a balcony?

Fighting the urge not to be a fucking creep and watch Jude while he’s in the shower.

The moment my feet hit his bedroom floor, the sound of running water reached my ears, tempting me with its soothing rhythm. I told myself I’d wait on the balcony, that I’d be a respectful, decent, normal fucking human being.

But…

One peek would hurt, right?

Just one glance and I’ll leave.

No harm, no foul.

That mantra spirals in my mind as I close the distance to the cracked bathroom door. Steam spills out like a soft, inviting veil, wrapping around me, thickening the air with the intoxicating scent of him.

Stupid, stupid curiosity.

It’s going to kill me one of these days, maybe today, because the moment Jude steps into my line of sight, it knocks the fucking wind out of me.

Water cascades down his body, glistening on his skin like liquid glass. Each droplet trails down the contours of his muscles, pooling at his waist, and I realize, consequences be damned—I’m not moving from this spot.

Droplets slide down his closed eyes, his jaw tensing as the hot water pounds against his back. Each harsh line of his body is illuminated by the soft glow of the bathroom light, and he looks so utterly breathtaking that it almost hurts to look at him for too long.

Jude Sinclair isn’t just attractive. He’s magnetic. A force that pulls you in—not because he seeks the spotlight but because you’re utterly powerless to resist.

He’s like the moon.

Silent, distant, yet impossible to ignore. You don’t just see him—you feel him, like the pull of the tide. There’s a gravity to him, an undeniable allure that draws me in without permission, a quiet strength that makes it hard to look away.

He’s completely lost in his own world, and I’m mesmerized by each of his movements as he runs a hand through his damp hair, water streaming down, accentuating the shades of faded gold in the strands.

That’s what Jude is.

A precious metal left to weather alone, hidden beneath layers of history that aren’t even his. He’s coveted, faded gold, and I want him. To discover everything Ponderosa Springs buried in him.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I watch his muscles flex as he reaches for the soap, tattoos moving across his skin with every gentle movement. I track the lightning tattoo that spreads across his rib cage, dipping low into that V-shaped groove.

When he turns to face the showerhead, placing a palm against the cool marble, my breath catches. I expect a canvas of more ink, but there’s only one—a stretch of bold words sprawling from shoulder blade to shoulder blade: Noli Timere.

My chest aches at the vicious scar they are inked on top of. A brutal stripe across his upper back, partially concealed by the artistry, yet the pale, raised skin is still visible.

The unbearable urge to touch it hums through my body, fingers twitching as I quietly push the door open a little further. My bare feet glide across the warm floors until I’m just outside the glass door.

Jude’s seen all of me. Every part I’ve hidden from the light and my never-ending curiosity wants to see him.

Jude’s helping me carry a weight I didn’t realize I needed help with.

I want that for him. I want this to be a universe he can exist freely in too, and I know there are things he’s hiding. He happily blends into the shadows, content to suffer alone, used to keeping everything inside.

He gets to witness the sun when it’s cold and distant.

I want to explore the dark side of the moon.

I feel like a voyeur, like Jude is a living piece of art trapped in a glass box that I can only admire from a distance.

DO. NOT. TOUCH.

It’s written in a big, bold, nasty font just outside his glass case.

Except I’ve never been very good at following the rules.

Clothes and all, I pull the shower door open, allowing billows of steam to escape before I shut it. I’m not sure if he’s just choosing to ignore me or if I’m much better at being quiet than I thought, but he doesn’t turn until my fingers trace the raised skin on his scar.

I feel it for a split second before Jude has me in his grasp, spinning my body until I’m pinned to the wall just beneath the stream of water. It drenches my clothes, the warm water cascading down me as he leans in close to my face.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

His tone in tandem with the harsh storm brewing in his dark blue eyes has a violent cold chill racking my body as he looks down at me.

“I just, I wanted—” I bite the inside of my cheek, not feeling as bold as I normally do. “What happened to you, Jude?”

The muscle in his jaw jumps as he cocks his head, “Which time?”

My brow furrows, hands twitching at my sides before committing to the idea of touching him. I reach out, placing my palms flat against his chest before smoothing upward.

“All of them.”

“Dad liked to get high. Liked to lose himself in the past, and I became his villain. Every ounce of his hurt, he put on me.” His jaw works, nostrils flaring. “The first time he ever called me your father’s name was just before he shattered a Ketel One bottle across my back.”

I flinch like he slapped me.

I didn’t know Easton Sinclair.

Not really.

I think I’d seen him maybe four times in my entire life—if that—randomly around town while I was out with friends or family. Each time, he was a shadow flitting at the edge of my vision, a figure blurred by distance and whispers.

A man etched in the whispers of Ponderosa Springs yet somehow a stranger to me.

I didn’t know him.

But I hated him.

“You know what I thought the entire time the doctor stapled my back shut?” he grunts, water dripping from his mouth as he speaks. “Who was Rook, and what did he do to my father that made him hate me so fucking much?”

“Jude, I⁠—”

“Then I come here,” he cuts me off, anger and pain radiating off him in waves, “and I see that it was never a Van Doren problem. I was made to hate a family because Easton Sinclair was a miserable, sad man, and I didn’t have it in me to hate him. So I hated you instead.”

My heart aches, thudding heavily in my chest, feeling the weight of him pressing against me. I ache for the boy who lived through the wreckage of addiction, the one who wears his father’s pain like a second skin.

The flicker of vulnerability in his eyes reveals ghosts of a past that hover just beneath the surface, shadows of a life he can’t escape. I have no fucking idea what it’s like to grow up with a father whose demons were more powerful than any love he could offer.

I just know that I want to carry it with him.

No matter how heavy his pain is, I want to carry it with him.

My hands continue up the path of his body, palms cupping his cheeks as I tilt my head back to gaze up at him.

“Loner,” I breathe, “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that.”

“Don’t pity me, Geeks. I don’t fucking want it.”

My jaw tightens. “Don’t do that. Don’t sweep your pain under the rug, Jude. Not here, not with me.”

I drag my thumb across his bottom lip, staring up at this beautiful, beautiful, broken boy.

“You see me, right?”

He nods slowly, his dark gaze unwavering, and it feels like a promise. “Always.”

“Then let me see you,” I murmur. “Scars and all. It doesn’t matter. Your pain doesn’t make you weak. Your anger doesn’t make you your father. You’re just Loner here. Just Jude.”

Shock pulls at his eyebrows for a split second before recognition ignites a spark in his stormy eyes, the darkness giving way to a softness that brightens the space between us, clearing the clouds from the sky.

And then his mouth crashes against mine.

A jolt of warmth surges through me, flooding every inch of my body as desire takes control, drowning out the tiny voice screaming for caution. What if someone walked in? What if I was too loud?

But that whisper is nothing compared to the overwhelming hunger that rises within me.

My heart slams against my rib cage, this wild, frantic thing, as he presses into me, the solid weight of his body igniting every nerve ending in my skin. The rational part of my brain is shoved far, far away, silenced when he nips at my bottom lip with a teasing bite, sending shock waves through me.

All that matters is Jude’s touch—the way his hands cradle my face, the heat of him pressing against me, as if he’s pulling me into his very essence. I want to take all the shattered pieces of this boy the world has broken and hide them deep within my chest, where he can finally feel safe.

Jude deserves, at the very least, to feel safe. To be protected.

“You climbed the wall,” he breathes against my mouth, chest heaving as his tongue traces the seam of my lips.

“Yeah, Loner. I climbed the wall.”

Jude’s hands slide down my body, fingers trailing fire in their wake as he grips my waist, pulling me closer until our bodies meld together.

I can feel the heat radiating from him, the tension in his muscles, his cock pressed tightly against my stomach. It makes me ache, a desperate need to bridge the gap between our worlds, to become a part of his.

“You gonna be able to be quiet while my cock is drilling that tight hole, sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice dipped in smoke. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you when anyone could walk in?”

I nod my head once, twice, three times before his lips collide with mine again. Hungry and insistent, he demands me to open up for him. My skin ignites beneath the spray of water, his tongue sliding against mine.

My hands weave through his damp hair, pulling him closer, wanting more. Wanting all of him.

“Jude.”

Kiss.

“My clothes.”

Kiss.

“Off.”

We can barely keep our mouths apart long enough to shed my clothes, tossing them carelessly onto the tiled floor of the shower. The moment they hit the ground, I’m forced to physically climb this man like he’s a tree.

I wish I could say I was joking.

With every inch, I stretch up onto my tippy-toes, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer, but frustration bubbles within me when I realize I can’t reach him the way I want to.

“Aww, baby.” His chuckle vibrates against my lips, the sound teasing my skin as it sends shivers down my spine. “You want up here? Does that needy little cunt want to be stretched and filled while I bounce you on my cock like a little fuck toy?”

A soft whimper escapes my throat, my thighs instinctively pressing together in a desperate attempt to quell the relentless ache throbbing between my legs.

“Loner, don’t make me hurt you,” I bite, my palm sliding down his chest to his cock, giving it a teasing squeeze. “I could do some serious damage down here.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he grins, head shaking as he bends his knees and scoops me up.

I let out a heavy gasp as he presses me against the wall, my legs curling around his trim waist as he shoves his cock against my pussy.

“Vicious little thing,” he whispers, dipping his head into the crook of my neck, letting me feel the smirk on his lips as he peppers kisses along my throat. “So demanding. So fucking hot.”

A whimper rocks through me as he thrusts his hips against mine, his shaft rubbing my clit as he uses his grip on my body to stroke me up and down his cock.

Everything about Jude makes me feel small, and not in a bad way. I’ve always felt like this scary, hardened thing. Too sharp, too demanding. But Jude makes me feel soft, gentle, like I’ve been misunderstood my entire life, and he’s just been there waiting to crack me open.

“Jude,” I moan when the tip of his cock nudges at my entrance, eyes flicking down at where our lower halves connect. “Please tell me it’s just this angle and you’re not actually gonna rip me half.”

The bridge of his nose trails up my neck, mouth returning to mine for another punishing kiss, just enough to leave me breathless before he pulls back.

“My cock is gonna shred this bratty pussy in half, baby, but you’re gonna love it. You’re gonna beg for more. ’Cause you were made to take what I give you.”

With that, he thrusts into me in one fluid motion, and the sensation is nothing short of electric. My body stretches around him, the initial discomfort quickly morphing into a deep, pulsing pleasure that sends waves of warmth radiating through my cunt.

A shocked gasp slips from my mouth, and it is quickly muffled by the weight of his palm. I dig my nails into his shoulders, head falling back against the wall behind me, trying to ground myself as he fills me completely.

I’ve never felt so fucking full. Every inch of space my body allows, Jude takes.

“God, you always feel so fucking good. So fucking tight.” He grunts lowly, his tone filled with awe as he watches his cock stroke in and out of my wet core. “You gotta be quiet for me, baby. So, so quiet for me, yeah? We can’t let anyone know how hungry this pretty cunt is for my dick, can we, sweetheart?”

I moan into his hand, arching my body into his touch as his mouth descends on my nipple. His teeth tug at the piercing, tongue playing with my sensitive tits.

Jude’s not just another guy I’m attracted to.

God, if only that’s all he was.

If it were just his sharp jawline or the way he looks behind the wheel of his car, this would be easy. I’d let the loyalty to my last name crush the pull I feel toward him. It’d be a temporary thing, a fleeting spark I could smother.

But he’s not just a Sinclair.

He’s also Jude.

The loner.

The poet.

The guy who sees the world in shades of gray and scribbles those shades into that worn notebook like he’s writing his way through some personal hell.

Jude’s the one who proved that life can still exist within me.

Before he touched me, I was nothing but withering earth. Orgasms were fleeting, a spark that died before I could even feel its warmth, a hollow relief that left me emptier than before. I was a wasteland, all cracked soil and desolation, where nothing could take root.

But with him, it’s…different.

I’m different.

When he touches me, it’s like a storm breaking loose inside my veins. A lightning strike that splits me wide open, burns through every dark corner of my soul until there’s no space left for hatred or the self-loathing that eats at me.

For the first time since Oakley, someone touched me and…and…

Something bloomed.

In the barren ruin of my chest, beneath ribs that have always felt like a cage, he planted something wild, untamable, something so vibrant it almost hurt.

A secret flower.

Thorny, forbidden, but undeniably alive.

The pleasure builds inside me, coiling tighter with every thrust. He sets a relentless pace, each stroke sending shock waves through my body, and I can’t help but writhe against him, eager for more.

Echoes of our skin slapping against each other fill the air, mixing with the rhythm of the shower, the water cascading down our bodies, amplifying every stroke.

I can feel my nails biting into his skin, holding on to his body for dear fucking life as he uses the brutal grip on my ass to shove himself impossibly deeper. He jerks my body down in time with his heavy thrusts while he presses his hand into my mouth to keep me quiet.

“Look at what a good girl you’re being, Phi,” he growls, pressing his mouth against his hand covering mine. “So quiet, taking me. This wet pussy is my favorite fucking thing. You’re my favorite little whore, baby.”

I preen beneath the praise.

His favorite.

I clench around him, and he responds with a grunt, the sound vibrating against my chest. It spurs him on, driving him deeper, harder. Every thrust sends me spiraling further into ecstasy.

My body bows against the wall, the rough surface grounding me as he takes me higher, pushing me to the brink. The heat builds like a wildfire, consuming me whole, leaving nothing but pure, unadulterated pleasure in its wake.

“You’re close, aren’t you, baby? You gonna come for me? Go on, sweetheart. Break for me. Show me what a good fucking girl you are and come for me.”

Each thrust drives him deeper, hitting that sweet spot within me that makes my vision blur and my thoughts scatter. I can hardly hold on to anything—my fingers grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, anchoring myself as he pushes me toward the edge.

The tension snaps, and I come undone. A cry erupts from my lips, muted by the palm pressed against my mouth, as the world blurs and collapses into pure ecstasy.

I shudder, waves of pleasure crashing over me, drowning me in sensation. My body quakes around him, every pulse radiating with a heat so intense it feels like I’m burning from the inside out.

“Fuck, yes, baby. Fuck yes. Just like that. Your pussy grips me so good. So goddamn tight,” Jude grunts, the sound of his voice pulling me back to him, grounding me even as I float in the afterglow of my orgasm.

His hand moves from my mouth, leaving me to keep quiet on my own as he palms my ass with both hands, squeezing possessively. He works me up and down his dick like a madman, and I can feel the weight of him, stretching me, filling me completely. The sensation is dizzying, the pleasure mixing with the remnants of my climax, driving me higher and higher.

“Jude,” I whimper, my voice barely above a breath as the heat within me begins to coil again. “I want you to⁠—”

“I know, baby. I know.” He leans into me, capturing my mouth once more, our lips moving together as his hips snap against mine, driving us deeper into this whirlwind of pleasure. “I’m gonna give my favorite bratty cunt just what she wants. I’m gonna pump her so full of my cum you’ll feel me for weeks.”

The possessiveness in his words sends a shiver down my spine. I can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s building toward his own release, and it only makes me crave him more.

“Yes, please. Please, Jude, fill me up,” I breathe against his lips, the desperate need spilling out of me like a prayer.

He drives into me harder, the sound of our bodies slapping together echoing in the steamy air, a symphony of lust that drowns out the world beyond the shower.

“I’m so close, baby,” he grunts, his voice a low growl as he pulls back to look into my eyes, the intensity of his gaze igniting something wild within me. “I want you to come again, just like that. Squeeze me tight. Come on, Geeks. Give it to me.”

I slam my hand over my mouth to muffle my scream as another tidal wave of pleasure crashes over my body, lights exploding behind my eyes as I give my body over to him.

With one final thrust, he spills into me, his release flooding me in hot waves that send me spiraling into a blissful haze. I can feel him pulse within me, filling me completely, and it’s overwhelming, consuming me in a way I’ve never felt before.

“Fuck, yes, Phi. Good girl. That’s my favorite good girl.” He moans, burying his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he wraps his arms around me, holding me close as we both ride out the waves of pleasure.

We linger there, wrapped in each other, the warm water cascading around us like a cocoon, sealing us away from the world. In this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s just us, tangled together, a beautiful mess of bodies.

In here, we can be whoever we want.

Just Jude and Phi.

I don’t think it was an accident I’m the one who found his poem on the wall of Whispering Pines Motel.

Among all the people in West Trinity Falls and Ponderosa Springs, it doesn’t feel like mere chance that I found those words.

It feels like fate.

That maybe, just maybe, something made sure I’d be the one to discover it long before we ever realized what was happening between us.